would play captain to these captains, and, sitting in his pulpit, nod defiance or approval, or, if his dislike rose still higher, would tell the congregation in plain terms not to mind the words they had heard. Some of these interruptions are more amusing to read than they were to hear, especially by those who were their victims. Thus as a venerable and especially beloved friend, who relieved the vacant hours of a superannuated ministry with the cultivation of grapes, announced as his text, "I am the true vine," and began by saying, "There are some vines that will not bear good grapes,' ""That's so !" breaks in father Taylor: "you sold me one of that sort."

A young minister, Rev. M. M. Parkhurst, relates, that, preaching for him on the text, "He that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned," in order to catch the most sceptical fish, who run out the longest lines, he granted the fact that a man's belief was all that was necessary to his salvation. The old man, surmising that the boy was going to leave out the essence of truth, and make any belief salvable, shook his head, fist, and cane at the preacher; and, as he went on developing this thought, he wriggled, frowned, and at last shouted forth, "Sit down! sit down!"-"No," said the self-composed youth, "I'm skipper of this craft now." He then changed his tactics, and showed, that under this very law, only a right belief produced a right character, and that faith in Christ is an absolute necessity to true spiritual life. The quick eye behind him saw that he was off the breakers, and "Out to sea the streamers flew;"

and he shouted, "Open sea! Up sail and on!"

To the last he allowed no one, of his school at least, to utter any but the most orthodox truths to his congregation. One of his last sermons is thus described by Rev. Mr. McDonald. "It was from the text, 'Where is your faith? He touched every chord of the human heart now he denounces sin in the most awful manner, and then weeping over the sinner as though his heart would break. At one time he pictures the world of woe in colours so dark that, one almost felt the blackness of darkness gathering around. And then the gates of heaven are thrown wide open, with angels and spirits of just men made perfect; with golden streets, trees of life, crystal waters, harps aud harpers, crowns, robes, and palms, in full view, until every heart was ready to sing,

When shall I reach that happy place ?'

but every thing broke down when he, with face bathed in tears, exclaimed, 'O God! what will become of my children!' meaning sailors. 'My life has been spent with and for them. I have stood, in my boyhood, with them at the guns, amidst blood and carnage. My manhood has been devoted to their interests and welfare. And now I am old, and must soon depart. O God! preserve my children.' There was a general giving up to tears.

"Here he changed his tone of voice, countenance, and exclaimed, 'I am not turning to me, he said, 'You have heard

but I am not, nor do I expect to die soon.

and expression of
dead yet.' Then
that I was dead
d;
Just now I begin

to feel young again. Glory to God! I am able to fight a little longer.'"

He was

But this fighting was not much more than shouldering his crutch, and showing how his old fields were won. contented with saying, “I can do it," as Jupiter, in Lessing's fable, made himself the superior marksman of Apollo by simply saying, "I could beat that if I had a mind to." The mind did not come to the Greek or Boston Jupiter, who had, in the latter case, been Apollo also. He descended from his deck, and accepted fate. He confessed that

He turned his vessel's prow towards the harbour of earth and time. He formally resigned the leadership in 1868, and retired from the front. Still he felt this resignation was not final nor complete; and, whenever and wherever he pleased, he broke in upon the regular government with criticism and censure, and even orders, that showed he wrestled hard with himself in accepting, after so many years of sovereignty, the place of a subordinate. His memory broke up by degrees. Calling on him with Bishop Janes and Dr. Harris, about three years before his death, he greeted them, as was his wont, with a kiss of affection, as if he knew them perfectly. Saying to him, "We have brought the bishop to see you," "The bishop!" says he, "where's the bishop?" And yet no one knew him better or loved him more than this reverend father in God. Being re-introduced, he of course went all through his salutation again, his kiss of love included.

His wife's death, almost two years before his own, found him in the realm of second childhood. He wandered up and down the house a half ghost himself, whether in the body or out of the body he could not often tell. He seemed hardly aware of the painful event, and more like a child than a man he passed through his sad experience.

At her funeral he was full of smiles and tears, bowing, weeping, rejoicing, altogether. On the ride to the grave he kept up that politeness of manner which never deserted him, and bowed gracefully from his mourning coach to some poor Irishwomen on the curb-stone, not knowing them, and showing that he retained his courtesy after his consciousness had largely gone.

The days of life grew shorter, darker, and stormier. He became almost as helpless as a babe, yet with an obstinacy, shrewdness, and wit that belonged to the ripest of men. Three of his daughters, Mrs. Brigham, Mrs. Russell, and Mrs Barnes, were kind and attentive to all his wants; but the chief charge devolved upon his wife's niece, Miss Sarah Millett, and his old sailor friend, Captain Bridgett. This gentleman was his constant companion for over a year and a half, caring for him by day and by night. It was very proper that one of his "boys" should lead him down into the deep waters, until he was received by the Master Boatman on the other shore. His niece accepted his reverse compliments with calmness, and helped him quietly and kindly down the steep places of life, which he was stumbling over in his tottering steps. A great debt of gratitude is due to her assiduous care. It was to her, and of her, that he shot forth that unjust stroke of wit. He would never

But this fighting was not much more than shouldering his crutch, and showing how his old fields were won. He was contented with saying, "I can do it," as Jupiter, in Lessing's fable, made himself the superior marksman of Apollo by simply saying, "I could beat that if I had a mind to." The mind did not come to the Greek or Boston Jupiter, who had, in the latter case, been Apollo also. He descended from his deck, and accepted fate. He confessed that

He turned his vessel's prow towards the harbour of earth and time. He formally resigned the leadership in 1868, and retired from the front. Still he felt this resignation was not final nor complete; and, whenever and wherever he pleased, he broke in upon the regular government with criticism and censure, and even orders, that showed he wrestled hard with himself in accepting, after so many years of sovereignty, the place of a subordinate. His memory broke up by degrees. Calling on him with Bishop Janes and Dr. Harris, about three years before his death, he greeted them, as was his wont, with a kiss of affection, as if he knew them perfectly. Saying to him, "We have brought the bishop to see you," "The bishop!" says he, "where's the bishop?" And yet no one knew him better or loved him more than this reverend father in God. Being re-introduced, he of course went all through his salutation again, his kiss of love included.