Sunday--Sacred worship--The sanctuary recalling youthful scenes--Early plighted vows at the table of the Lord--Retrospect--Mournful reflections--Change in the congregation--Mr. and Mrs. N---- The C----family--Col. T---- Village burial ground--C----The buried pastor--My mother--Palmyra--Early ministerial labours--Lyons. _Fairfield, Aug. 15th._ In these GLEANINGS BY THE WAY, I have very little plan or method, but send you just what happens to interest me most at the time. Perhaps there are no two places that we visit, after long years of absence, with so much interest as _the sanctuary_ where we first plighted our vows of allegiance at the sacramental table to Jehovah, and the old, shaded _burial place_ where repose the ashes of many whom we knew and loved in early life. In my late excursion through Western New York, I was permitted to enjoy this pleasing, yet melancholy satisfaction. Upon the first Sunday of the present month, I was permitted to worship in the sanctuary where twenty-two years before I first knelt at the communion table to receive the consecrated symbols of my Saviour's dying love. As I stood within the rail of the altar and looked around that sanctuary, a tide of thought rushed upon me, awakening in my mind varied and conflicting emotions. The sacred place with its history called up some pleasing reflections. I could not but rejoice that "_the truth as it is in Jesus_," continued to be proclaimed there, and that the cross of Christ was perpetually held up as the sinner's only hope. I could not but rejoice to see the increase and prosperity of Christ's spiritual flock; the number of communicants having swelled from _fifty_ to nearly _two hundred_. I could not but be thankful to remember how mercifully and kindly the Lord had led me through the wilderness for more than twenty years, and how unerringly he had fulfilled all his covenant promises! But there were also painful reflections called up by what I saw before me. Remembering as I did that here, in this spot my covenant vows were pledged before high heaven, I could not but recollect how far I had fallen short of that entire consecration to God--that separation from the world, and supreme love for Christ, implied in those vows--I could not but recollect what poor returns I had rendered to that Saviour who had laid down his life for my redemption, to that merciful God * * * * * * that sought me Wretched wanderer, far astray; Found me lost, and kindly brought me From the paths of death away.