from me. When reference was made to some of his work, he said: "I think my work on earth is finished; but I have not shunned to declare the whole counsel of God, so far and so fully as He has made it known to me. I have no wish to detract one statement I have made in the declaration of the truth as it is in Christ Jesus."

The only anxiety expressed by the doctor was that we should get him downstairs, and, as soon as possible, remove him away for change of air. But in his weakened state he was sadly susceptible of cold, and another attack prostrated him so much that on Saturday, January 19th, I engaged a sick-nurse, telling her however that her services might only be required for a few days, as we hoped shortly to take him to Malvern.

A letter which I received from my

sister the following week, telling us of a lady who had been a member of my dear husband's Bible class, at St. James', Clapham, thirty-seven years ago, and who said he had then been the instrument of her conversion, afforded him the happiness which such seals to his ministry -and very frequently similar testimonies reached us—always gave him. Throughout his ministry no amount of popularity, nor a crowded London church, as at St. Peter's, Regent Square, with its 2000 hearers, ever satisfied him, without distinct evidence that the Holy Spirit was owning the word spoken.

He was now consciously nearing the better land, though I knew it not. On each visit the doctor spoke of a good pulse and other favourable symptoms, but often in his generally broken nights, and sometimes after prostrating attacks of

"You

sickness, he would say to me, surely must see this cannot last?" or address some similar warning, which my fond hopes would not receive. On the night of Wednesday, Jan. 23rd, he called the nurse and asked if they were quite alone, and being assured that no one else was present, he said, "Nurse, I know that I am dying, and I shall pass away very quietly." Somewhat startled, she asked if he felt happy, and "perfect peace" was his calm reply. But she did not venture to tell me this till near the last.

At times his mind wandered slightly, though ever on bright or kindly fancies. To another who was watching beside his bed, he said suddenly, "O J., there is such a bright crown awaiting me!" We needed no new revelation to tell us this. Having been "faithful unto death,"

his Master's word stood pledged to give him "a crown of life"; and having been instrumental in turning "many to righteousness," faith in the promise that he should "shine as the stars for ever and ever," assured us that his would indeed be a

STAR-LIT CROWN.

Sunday, Jan. 26th, ushered in the week which we fondly hoped would enable us to take him for the prescribed change, and Thursday was the day halfplayfully fixed upon. He never encouraged these hopes, but was as grateful for every attention shown, and as uncomplaining as ever. Indeed the spontaneous testimony repeatedly borne by the nurse was, that throughout her long experience in nursing, she had never known excruciating pain borne with such unvarying patience, or such holy calm.

But this was nothing new to those around him. The sweetness of his natural disposition,-intensified as it was by grace, and made proof against the wear and tear of time, and circumstances,though often strained to the uttermost, was never more strikingly manifested than in seasons of sickness, disappointment, or trial.

"More air" had of late been his frequent request, and at times even the opened window and door seemed unable to afford relief. Fanning was constantly resorted to, and on Monday morning he said, "Oh! if I could but be taken to the top of Whitfield Hill, so that I could. breathe!" Little aware of the nature of the symptom thus shown, I caught eagerly at what I believed to be an evidence of returning health, and sent at once for a carriage. With great difficulty