and a stranger, if not aware of it, would scarcely notice that his orbs of vision were quenched in darkness.

He retained his freshness and vigour of mind unto the last. He was fond of the company of old friends. "One thing," he said, "I have never been able to learn, and that is, not to love."

The memoir from which we have selected these brief facts respecting this remarkable man is silent on the subject of his religious views and feelings. We would fain hope that both he and his devoted wife were joint partakers of the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord.

The sunbeams creep through the rustling leaves,
That fall on the moss-grown seat,

And tall grass waves where in other years

It was trodden by children's feet.

And the bees hum lazily in the shade,

Through the long bright summer's day, And the soft wind murmurs with lonely sound, Where the children used to play.

They all are gone from their childhood's home, And have wandered far away;

Of all the band of that dear old time,

There is not one left to-day.

They are parted now by many a mile,

And the waves and mountains high; And one has gone to the home beyond, Through the golden gates of the sky.

And many a weary year has gone
And many a summer's sun

Has passed adown the golden west,

When the long bright day was done;
And many an autumn wind has blown,
And many a winter cast,

O'er hill and vale, its shroud of snow,
Since the children met there last.

And the weary years will still move on
With their sunshine and their pain;
But there in the shade of the old elm tree,
They will never all meet again.

But there is a haven of quiet rest,

And its portals are open wide;

May we one by one, at the Saviour's call,
All meet on the other side!

CHILDREN'S MISSIONARY SHIP.

THE London Missionary Society, which is supported THE chiefly by that esteemed body of christians called Independents, has for many years been engaged in the great and good work of introducing the Gospel into the numerous islands of the South Seas. Several years ago one of the missionaries sent word how much they wanted a small ship in which they might visit other islands, and what a good and noble thing it would be if the children in English families and sabbath-schools would find the money to build and send one. This was done; the vessel was built and fitted up and paid for by the children, and for some years performed her voyages of mercy successfully from island to island. But in the year 1864 she was unfortunately wrecked on Danger Island.

When the news of this disaster reached England, the children were again invited to build a new one. They immediately set to work, and in a few months subscribed and collected nearly £12,000 for this purpose.

The new vessel was built at Aberdeen, in Scotland, and launched in October, 1865. The day was a high day and a holiday; multitudes of people, young and old, were present. Ten thousand children and their teachers, many of whom had come from other places by rails, formed a long procession to the place where the vessel was launched. When all was ready, a young lady from

London, as the beautiful ship glided down into the water, performed the ceremony of naming her the JOHN WILLIAMS, amid the cheers of many thousands of spectators.

The ship which was lost was called by the same name, and it was given to both it and the new one in remembrance of a very active and devoted missionary, who when visiting one of the islands in a small boat to take the Gospel, was cruelly murdered by the savage people.

After the launch about five hundred gentlemen and ministers sat down to partake of refreshment, provided by the builders of the vessel. The Earl of Kintore, LordLieutenant of the county, the Lord Provost of the city of Aberdeen, and many more eminent men were present; and it was stated that Her Majesty the Queen took much interest in the proceedings. All present expressed their good wishes for "success to the JOHN WILLIAMS and the children who paid for her." One of the speakers, a minister from London, said, that he had gone over the new ship with the captain, whose name also was Williams, "and he believed that, from stem to stern, from keel to topmast, she was as beautiful a specimen of what a ship should be as could be produced. Nothing inferior, nothing defective, but everything sound and beautiful; so that the man who puts his foot on her deck may know that he has a noble thing of life under his feet, that, with God's blessing, will waft him in safety across

the deep. There are frequent occasions of ship-launch, and for different ends: one is launched to go out as a pirate, to rob and murder; another as a man-of-war, to shed blood; but this noble ship goes out to proclaim 'glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, goodwill to men.' She will never fire a gun, except it may be one in distress; and we heartily wish she may never have occasion to do that. Ships have gone out in pursuit of commerce, to search after the wonders of the deep; some to seek after the gold of California, some the cotton of America, others the wool of Australia: this one goes out in the spirit of our Master, not to destroy men's lives, but to save them. The little bark of Columbus and his companions was rigged out for the purpose of discovering a world; this goes out for the purpose of regenerating a world. 'Success to the children who have paid for her!' A beautiful thing it is that she goes out free of debt. Our ship is paid for-not by a compulsory rate-not by appealing to the national treasury. Though thankful of Her Majesty's patronage, we do not wish Her Majesty's Government to back up our mission and relieve us of our work. It has all been done by the freewill offerings of our people, and the most interesting part of our people— the dear children-who subscribed and collected nearly £12,000 to pay for the JOHN WILLIAMS. May they, who will form the men and women of a future generation when we have departed, be kept and guided to act a