I have already alluded to a fourth pew in this sanctuary, whose occupants I had some twenty years before so often seen in this place of worship. Col. T---- held a proud place among the distinguished and influential men in Western New-York. He possessed all which wealth and high standing and extensive influence can impart to secure to himself and family the most unalloyed earthly enjoyment. And I trust that he had something better than this, even that hope, which sheds light over the gloom and darkness of the grave. He and his family were regular attendants upon the service of the sanctuary. He had two sons whom he expected would inherit a portion of his property and perpetuate his name in the world. But the youngest to whom we have before alluded, did not long linger upon the shores of time, after he saw the object of his young affections torn from him and swallowed up in the grave. His only surviving brother, in the very midst of life, shortly followed him. And soon his father and his mother were laid by his side. This is a picture--a miniature picture of life! Thus doth "the fashion of this world pass away!" What solemn testimony was before me, that "all flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of the field." How emphatic then did the words of the prophet seem--"The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass." Not only had the flock changed--but the pastor was also gone! He who had instructed my youth--who had led me to the Saviour--who had first broken to me the sacramental bread, and given some of the first impulses to my preparation for the ministry--no longer stood before that altar--his voice was no longer heard in that sanctuary! A simple marble slab placed in the recess behind the pulpit, told the melancholy tale that he too had gone to the spirit land.