IN my last I mentioned to you the illness and expected removal of my youngest brother, James. He has since been called to his rest, and I am truly thankful to be enabled to state that his death was attended with circumstances highly satisfactory, especially when it is remembered that he was not in any way a communicative lad, but, on the contrary, very silent and reserved. Well! he is gone—gone, I trust, to eternal glory. The Lord, in his rich mercy, prepare us all to follow him! He was the youngest among us, and the least likely to be first called. I hope that we have most of us been induced by the circumstance to watch and to be sober; “so to number our days as to apply our hearts unto wisdom.” As far as regards myself, I think I may say that the lesson has been very salutary. I have been led to consider myself as the next which shall be called, and, of course, eternal and invisible things have appeared exceedingly near. I thank God that death has no sting to me. Its sting is sin, and that my gracious Redeemer has mercifully removed. The anticipation, therefore, far from being a means of uneasiness, is matter of entire and sober satisfaction; not that I have any cause for disquietude here below—not that I have any restlessness of desire arising from a querulous or pettish feeling of discontent. No, my dear friend, God has been, and still continues to be, abundant in mercy and truth. But still these things are not my God—this world is not my home. I seem to myself like a school-boy very agreeably placed at school—fond of his master, pleased with his companions, and interested by his studies, he has every sober ground for satisfaction, and, as such, does not pettishly wish to be gone—does not for a moment think of leaving till his vacation shall arrive: but still the thoughts of home delight him, and when the summer which calls him there arrives, he most cheerfully complies—his kind master, his pleasing companions—his engaging studies—all are most gladly left; for these are not his home. Ah, my dear friend, how lightly should we all sit to the things beneath, to those which are nearest and dearest, did we but consider heaven more as our _own_ place—as our heavenly Father’s house!