Mr. Annesley, a Dissenting minister in the village of Woodford, on passing this hamlet one summer evening, had his attention arrested by an interesting looking young man, about the age of four and twenty, who appeared to be in the last stage of a decline. He presented to him a few religious tracts, which the young man received with an air of indifference; but when informed that they were intended to prepare him for that world into which he was likely soon to enter, he seemed pleased, and said, "That is what I want, Sir." This young man, who was the son of a respectable farmer, lived about two months after the first interview Mr. Annesley had with him; and died avowing his entire dependence on the death of Jesus Christ for eternal life: blessing God in the most simple and ardent terms, for his goodness in sending to him at the eleventh hour a knowledge of the way of salvation. [Illustration: JAMES GODWIN W. L. THOMAS. BRINGING IN THE LAST LOAD OF CORN. THE REAPERS' HYMN OF PRAISE. Vol. ii. page 285.] After his death, the old farmer, his father, when lamenting that they enjoyed no religious advantages in that remote part of the parish, very readily consented to have his large kitchen licensed for preaching; and Mr. Annesley engaged to give them a sermon on Tuesdays every week. When he commenced his labours he had to pass through the ordeal of mockery and contempt. Sometimes he was insulted by the poor rustics, when attempting to explain to them the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven; but by visiting them in their own cottages, and displaying a kind and affectionate disposition, he gained their confidence and esteem, and they pressed to hear him with devout and earnest attention. Having resolved to make an excursion to Woodford, and pay a visit to this rural place of worship, of which I had often heard, I took my seat in the coach, one afternoon in the month of September, as far as the village of Woodford, from which it was a walk of three miles to the farm-house. The weather was unusually hot for the season of the year; but towards the evening, the cool breezes which sprung up made me enjoy my journey exceedingly. After getting down from the coach, I quitted the village by a cross road, and then turned aside into a fine shady lane. On passing by a farm-yard, I observed an extraordinary rush of men, women, and children, and being anxious to know the cause of it, I advanced into the yard, where I saw a group marching before the last load of com, which they were bringing from the field, and singing the following, as a harvest hymn of praise:-- "But now his hand hath crown'd our toil, We joy like those that share the spoil, The harvest home to bear: With shouts the laughing pastures ring; With grateful hearts we reapers sing The praise of heaven's eternal King, Through whose paternal care we bring The produce of the year."