the deeds of its fellow. The sick and the poor, at home and abroad, the industrious and the struggling, the aged and the young—each and all shared his bounty and loving help, for he was one who _gave_, and did not _fling_ his charities down from the proud heights of opulence, so that poverty might blush to pick them up. But the record of his life was inscribed upon the page of history in characters indelible by the tears that watered his pathway to the tomb. We have made a faint effort to paint the last solemn scene that marked the close of the lamented Bishop Stanley’s career, and were almost tempted to place side by side with it the shade of grief that hung over the city when the great “_Friend_” was suddenly called home from his labours of usefulness and love upon earth. Few will ever be able to forget the scene of mourning and sorrow that followed the unlooked-for event, or the almost unparalleled silence of woe that was written upon every heart and countenance among the thronging thousands that attended to pay the last tributes of respect at the grave of the beloved and honoured philanthropist; when Magistrates and Artizans, Clergymen and Dissenting Ministers, Churchmen, Independents, Baptists, Methodists, and Friends, representatives of every grade of society and shade of religious opinion that the Old City could send forth, gathered around that lowly spot of earth to drop a tear, and seek inspiration from the spirit of love that seemed to breathe around the silent tomb. And who will forget the thrilling prayer offered up from the lips of the widowed mourner, who fulfilled, in the midst of that heart-stricken multitude, her measure of obedience to the will of Heaven and the duty of self-government, by public prayer and thanksgiving. Who does not rank among the noblest of the many noble sermons of the good Bishop Stanley, the far-sounding appeal that was sent forth from the pulpit of his cathedral, “Watchman, what of the night?”—the commemorating words that have been inseparably linked with the name and memory of Joseph John Gurney from that hour. Years have passed since these events occurred, but the remembrance of them is vivid; the rich legacy bequeathed to the Old City by the holy life, walk, and conversation of such a man is not soon expended; but treasured in the sanctuary of many loving hearts, it is nurtured, and brings forth fruit, fifty, seventy, and a hundred-fold, to the honour and glory of God, and to immortalize the memory of a faithful servant in the vineyard of souls. * * * * * THE END. * * * * * J. BILLING, PRINTER, WOKING, SURREY. Footnotes {0} These corrections have been applied in this Project Gutenberg eText.—DP. {5} Erasmus Earle, a celebrated lawyer. {223} A place of judgment.