particularly well, and he frequently told us that he never felt his ministerial duties less burdensome. One of his remarks, which made an impression on my mind at the time, has since struck me the more from the coincidence of the following text being written in one of the blank leaves of the Bible that he was accustomed to use, until within the last two or three years of his life: “When I am old and grey-headed, O God, forsake me not.” Psalm lxxi. 18. The remark which he made in conversation was this: “He has been my God from my youth up, but I never felt that he was so near to me as now in my old age.” These are not, I think, quite the expressions he made use of, for I quote from memory, and although I attempted to write them down the same day, I could not even then recall the _words_ that he used. Often similar attempts that I made failed also, and I then relinquished the idea that I had entertained, of preserving in writing some of my endeared father’s religious observations. During one of our drives to the station at the German Mills, speaking of the ministering of angels, a subject of which he was very fond, he remarked, that the dispensation of _faith_ under which we are placed made it necessary that an unseen agency should be employed for our protection and deliverance, as otherwise faith would be lost in sight; and also that, had these ministering spirits been made visible to us, we should have been very prone to place our reliance upon _them_, instead of putting our trust simply in God. He pursued the conversation as we ascended a very steep hill, and said, “I think we are little aware how constantly angels are employed on our behalf; perhaps now, an angel is leading that horse by the bridle, and encouraging it onwards.” One of the horses, a fine animal, was then exerting itself to the utmost; for the roads were very bad at the time, and the hill was therefore very difficult of ascent. I think the following anecdote will be interesting to you, as it is one which made a strong impression on my dear father’s mind, and, as it is short, I am tempted to copy it for you: “As one said to Philip J. Jenks just before he expired, ‘How hard it is to die,’ he replied, ‘Oh, no, easy dying, blessed dying, glorious dying.’ Looking up at the clock, he said, ‘I have experienced more happiness in dying this day, than in my whole life. It is worth living for, it is worth a whole life, to have such an end as this. I have long desired that I might glorify God in my death; but oh! I never thought that such a poor worm as I could have come to such a glorious death.’” I believe this account of “happiness experienced in death,” contributed very much to weaken his apprehension of the pains of death, which he afterwards entirely lost. It had, however, long been his own practice, and one which he recommended to others from the pulpit, to make death a daily subject of prayer, particularly as regarded its _time_ and _manner_; and I believe one of