in the valley; her spirit was strong in its anticipations of heaven; she longed to be with Jesus, often saying, "There'll be no more sorrow there!" A little before five o'clock on the morning of the 13th, she desired to see her leader, and the writer of this memoir. We were accordingly sent for. The expression of her countenance on our entering the house I can never forget. It seemed to say, 66 Come, see how a Christian can die." She frequently exclaimed, "Come, Jesus!" We asked her of her faith; if it was firm? if her hope was bright? She answered, "Yes." At this moment a glow of holy ecstasy beamed in her features, and, while we gazed, it seemed as if she had already entered in through the gates of heaven, and we were permitted to linger without to watch her as she receded from our view, and became lost in glory. She lingered till about seven o'clock, A.M., when her happy spirit left the tenement of clay to be for ever with the Lord, August 13th, 1860, aged 26 years. THOMAS IBBERSON. SARAH THOMPSON. SARAH THOMPSON was the wife of Mr. Frederick Thompson, of Lower Broughton, near Manchester, and daughter of the late Mr. William Makinson. She was blessed with pious parents, and from childhood was a regular attendant at our chapel at Peter-street, and afterwards at Salem. Her character as a neighbour and friend was above the common order. Her equanimity of temper rendered her a valuable companion, both in the public and private walks of life. For several years she was a teacher in the Sunday-school connected with Salem Chapel, and laboured diligently to promote the social, moral, and religious elevation of those committed to her charge. Whoever might be absent or careless, you would see her in her place at the appointed time, unless through sickness or unavoidable circumstances. She loved the work, and that love prompted punctuality and devotedness. Nor was she content when the labours of the school were over, but might have been seen wending her way through the back streets, delivering the tracts allotted to her by the Sunday-school Tract Society. Her affection for our ministers was strong and unyielding. With many of them she was personally acquainted, and in their society she spent many happy hours. As an evidence of the esteem in which she was held, her bereaved husband has received many letters of condolence. The venerable and Rev. Thomas Allin writes: " Though unacquainted with the circumstances of Mrs. Thompson's death, yet I know enough of her character and life to justify the assurance, that she is sharing with beloved parents and esteemed friends the brighter glories, the nobler exercises, and the sweeter pleasures of the inheritance which is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away; and with such an assurance concerning our dear departed ones, we do not, cannot, sorrow as those without hope." The Rev. C. J. Donald writes: "I have always felt deeply interested in your dear wife, through first knowing her by my appointment to the Manchester circuit. Her lively and cheerful manner, and the deep interest she took in all that related to the prosperity of Salem, naturally endeared her to our hearts, and, had she been spared, doubtless she would still have manifested a deep interest in the welfare of the Church." The Rev. T. W. Ridley, one of her old and valued friends, writes: "The information I received of the loss you had sustained, in the death of your beloved wife, completely stunned me; I mourn her departure, and even now it seems more like a dream than a reality. You have lost a beloved, kind, faithful, accomplished, and affectionate wife, and I a friend, one whom I highly esteemed; and even now she is present to my imagination with her cheerful smiles, her lively look, her sparkling wit, and her pleasant tones. How sudden the event! how mysterious and how painful to our feelings! I am glad to learn, however, that she had hope in her death; and this is the sweetest consolation you can experience under this severe affliction, that ultimately you will rejoice in a re-union with her amongst the redeemed in heaven." The affliction which terminated her earthly career was designated "Pyamia." In spite of all that medical skill and a large circle of friends could do, she rapidly declined, and it was evident to all who visited her that her race was nearly run. Yet in the prospect of death she rejoiced in God her Saviour. The Sabbath-the day before her departure-she spent in Pa company with her husband and one of her sisters. During the evening she requested them to sing that cheering and delightful hymn, the chorus of which ends "A day's march nearer home." Ah! little did she think that ere another sun should set she would have reached that home. Sometimes, when the spirit is trembling on the threshold of a better world, it seems as though it caught a faint whisper of the angels' song, and a glimpse of the glories of the better land, and in the prospect of such glory it revels in anticipation of "the far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." tience and resignation were remarkable features in her character, and, though conscious that her end was approaching, she freely gave up all with perfect composure, knowing that she would be richer in the enjoyment of heavenly felicities than in the society of the most loved ones of earth. The messenger of death came, and the dear departed one fell asleep in Jesus on the 21st of January, in the 36th year of her age. Her end was peace. It was a mild and gentle transition-no struggle, no sigh, and doubtless her sanctified spirit was wafted upwards "to the city beyond the clouds," and is now where no parted friends "O'er mournful recollections have to weep, Nor bed of death enduring love attends, To watch the coming of a pulseless sleep." Manchester, April, 1861. MUSINGS ON SPRING. R. H. MISSIONARY SERVICES, LONDON SECOND. ON Sunday, March 17th, the sermons in behalf of our missions were preached in Britannia Fields Chapel, by the Revs. W. Cooke and W. Baggaly; and in John Street Chapel by the Rev. W. Baggaly in the morning, and the Rev. G. Grundy in the evening. On the Monday evening the public meeting, preceded by a well-attended tea-meeting, was held in Britannia Fields; J. Nodes, Esq., in the chair. Effective speeches were delivered by the Rev. T. Carlisle, and the deputation-the Rev. W. Baggaly. The meeting was also favoured with the presence of George Thompson, Esq., late M.P. for the Tower Hamlets, whose speech of near an hour's length, as comprehensive in its range of thought as brilliant in its eloquence, elicited repeated demonstrations of delight from his audience. On Tuesday, at John-street, a sale, for which the ladies had been quietly preparing during the year, took place, the result for the mission fund being the noble sum of £20. At the meeting afterwards held, the Rev. W. Cooke in the chair, addresses were delivered by the deputation, with Messrs. Shaw, Mills, &c. The statements of Mr. Baggaly were listened to with great interest, and a true missionary spirit pervaded both the meetings. Poetry. G. G. That dance all day, and die in sunset's gleam. Unsightly things that crept Into their cells and slept, Reviving now from out those wintry tombs, To nobler life upspring, And spread their gaudy wing, And sip sweet nectar from the golden blooms. Thus Nature all revives; Sure emblem of our own glad resurrection; When this poor frame of mine, Raised by the word Divine, Shall spring from out her grave in full perfection. Thanks! Oh, thou God of heaven, Who to my soul hast given, By pledges manifold, this consolation: That, Death's dark winter past, Glad Spring shall come at last, And wake my dust to glorious restoration. J. C. THE METHODIST NEW CONNEXION MAGAZINE. JUNE, 1861. Biography. MR. WILLIAM WHITTLE BARTON, OF ROCHDALE. MR. WILLIAM WHITTLE BARTON was born at Liverpool on the 2nd January, 1793. His parents, though working people, were in circumstances which enabled them, by industry, to live comfortably and respectably. On the banks of the Mersey, which has brought affluence and luxury to so many thousands, Mr. Barton's parents passed away their lives honestly and frugally, and for many years amid comparative abundance. At this time the science of education was in its infancy in England, and its provisions and appliances, even in the most favoured districts, were but scantily supplied. Education then was considered not the most desirable article for the labouring classes. Indeed, it was regarded by many of the upper classes as rather dangerous-something as we now regard the habit of the child, dressed in cotton, playing with fire, or the boy who has not reached his teens wielding the loaded rifle. A good education, in those days, for a working man, seldom went beyond the ability to read and write, while the bulk of the people stopped far short of this. On the shores of the Mersey, however, there was a school, probably more than one, and within the precincts of this establishment the subject of this paper was early introduced. We have often heard him graphically relate his early schoolday experiences. According to the almost universally established rule, the youthful little William Barton was consigned to the care of an old dame with spectacles, who carried on her operations in her own small house, which answered the threefold purposes of school-room, diningroom, and bed-room. Weary with her toil and her unremitting efforts to bring forth the "young idea," she contracted the very natural habit of retiring at noon every day, in order to restore her wasted energies between the blankets. To this retreat little Barton, who was under her care through the day, was carried, and there he remained quietly by her side, watching her smoke her pipe until she quietly fell asleep, when he carefully crept from her side, and began to commit all sorts of childish mischief. Viewed in relation to the present, young Barton's education was but narrow, but in those days it was something extra U ordinary; for, when a very little boy, it was a common practice with all the old women of the neighbourhood to obtain his services at their homes, where he was in the habit of reading to them all the little books on which he could lay his hands. And such was his industry and perseverance, that he early possessed himself of as much elementary knowledge as was necessary to the successful prosecution of business. Through life he continued to increase his store of information, and his mind at length became amply furnished with useful knowledge gathered from almost every source. In all seaport towns, nothing is more common than for boys to acquire the art of swimming. In this art young Barton was an early adept; and, prompted by his generous nature and natural courage, was more than once, by plunging into the water after the drowning, instrumental in saving life. On one occasion during his school days, while bathing in deep water, he was seized' with cramp, and narrowly escaped death. During his struggles under the water he floated under a boat, and was rescued while sinking. In speaking of death by drowning, he always expressed an opinion that it must be a very painless mode of passing into eternity; for he stated that he was the subject of very pleasing sensations, only slightly ruffled by three thoughts which rushed suddenly into his mind-that he should never again see his mother, that he should never again look on the beautiful green fields, and that he should never more hear the sound of the old church bells. To the end of his life, he always regarded his rescue as a direct and special interference of Divine Providence. On another occasion, and this was previous to his having completely acquired the art of swimming, one of his schoolfellows, while bathing in a pit, had ventured beyond his depth, and was drowning. A crowd of boys stood by, none of whom could swim, but they ordered young Barton to plunge after their companion. When he hesitated, they threatened to throw him into the pit if he did not instantly comply. On this he threw off his clothes; the youth had sunk for the third time; but young Barton dashed into deep water, and, after considerable struggling, brought his unfortunate companion on dry land. On completing his noble work, he shouted out, at the top of his voice, "I have saved him! I have saved him! I have saved him!" Young Barton was apprenticed to a Mr. Parkinson, of Liverpool-a cabinet-maker-on the 17th of April, 1806, being then little more than thirteen years of age. About this time, or soon after, he lost his greatest friend-his mother. From his constitutional tendencies, one can easily imagine how far this affected young Barton, for he was by nature tender and loving. Always a misfortune unutterable, it is doubly so at so early an age, and its effects were soon marked and determinate in the Barton family. When the mother goes, half the life and enjoyment of her children go with her. The great stay and security seem to be snatched suddenly away, and you wonder whether you can successfully fight the world. Her touch, which no angel could imitate-her sweet voice, which no earthly sound resembles -the unfathomable love of those eyes, which seem to feast quietly upon you as they gaze into yours, are the very life and happiness of a rightly-disposed child. He served his term of apprenticeship, however, with credit, and won the respect both of his master and his shopmates. This was at a period when England was in the midst of the greatest and most terrible war in which she has ever engaged. Commerce was crippled, taxes were crushing and grinding the working population, and provisions were high. The country swarmed with volunteers, and Napoleon, during the previous year, was making the most formidable preparations to descend on the coast of England. Nelson, nine months before (October, 1805), had, indeed, annihilated his fleet at the battle of Trafalgar, but fell in the midst of victory; and, oppressed by the weight of public duties, and the anxieties of the times, the great Pitt, and the not less great and more humane Fox, sank to the grave. On the Continent, by his great victories of Austerlitz and Jena, Napoleon had crushed Austria and Prussia, and all men looked on in consternation when, by his "Berlin," and soon after by his "Milan Decrees," he declared his intention of destroying the commerce of England. These were the times when ancient dynasties melted before this genius of war, like snow in the hot sunbeams, and when even the King of Spain, without a struggle, gave up his throne to King Joseph Bonaparte. 39 While sovereigns and peoples were thus in the throes and convulsions of war and revolutions, most of our seaports were the centres of much enthusiasm and excitement. Our late friend retained a vivid recollection of many a stirring scene in his native town, and often have we listened for hours to his interesting narratives of the departure from the Mersey of privateers, who went out with one or two small guns, and faced almost incredible dangers. The greetings with which these men were received on their return with their rich prizes, by the crowds who lined the banks of the river, were well and graphically told by Mr. Barton. For young men fond of home and the social circle, it was dangerous to go abroad after sunset, as the "Press Gang were always prowling the streets in search of able-bodied youths and stout young men. Young Barton had more than one narrow escape, and often followed the crowds who ran to witness the carrying away of some lad on whom the "Press Gang" had laid their unholy hands. He has often told us tales of weeping mothers and heartstricken wives, whose sons and husbands, at a moment's notice, had been dragged off to some man-of-war lying out in the river, and thence taken to chastise the French, and perhaps to die in battle, probably on some distant sea. These sudden seizures constantly produced alarming riots, and Mr. Barton, on one occasion, stood by and saw the head-quarters of the "Press Gang" stripped of every particle of furniture, set on fire, and the whole building completely gutted. One of his companions was ruthlessly carried away, and lodged on board a vessel of war. Young Barton did not relish the loss of his young friend; but, being safely aboard a man-of-war, the loss was irretrievable. He had always a more than common amount of natural goodness, as is seen from his letters since 1814 up to the time of his death; and with this was associated an equal amount of natural courage. His friend, however, was snatched away for the wars, and young Barton must pay him a visit before his departure. He soon found himself on board with his companion, and probably thinking, that if it were right to steal men away from their homes against their will, it could not be very wrong to steal them back, he took with him a strange suit of clothes, in which he dressed his |