chair! Dear Old Parsonage, with its apple-puddings, brown bread, and pumpkin pie memories! And the good old meeting-house, where grandfather preached forty years! Time enough to give a score of ministers in these days. The square pews and uncushioned seats-the good old men, with solemn faces, and the good old women, women, with queer bonnets; but precious jewels they were, in those days, and precious stones have been gathered, for nearly two centuries, for the temple above. In eternity we may, perhaps, find out whether the thought which dropped into the heart of the English nobleman (Manchester,) who bore the name of this little town, to send them, as a legacy, whole sets of Baxter's works, had any thing to do in the matter. It is certainly a question, how it happened that so much faith and prayer should be concentrated in one little spot so many years, if Baxter had nothing to do with it? When a little child, they took me to the house of one of the Enochs who had recently ascended, and they pointed to a spot on the well-worn floor, where he rose from his bed every night, for prayer, for thirty years! It was my happiness to look once more upon these peaceful hills, before the iron horse began his tread upon the hallowed soil. The Baxter spirit yet lives. There is old Mrs. B., once in affluent circumstances, her husband the wealthiest man in town. She has lived to bury him -to see fourteen children laid in the grave, and one only, a cripple, remains, and she is supported by the town. With a face serenely beautiful, she spoke only of the goodness of God - His faithful, tender care. "She is all love," the people say, 66 nothing but lovė.” Could the good Lord M. have known what plants of righteousness would grow in that favored soil, nourished and enriched by his benevolence, how would his heart have ex panded with joy! One by one they are transplanted to the heavenly garden; and who shall say, how long the Baxter spirit shall hover over and bless that little town? CHAPTER XXVI. THE BROTHERS' LEAGUE. THAT upper room was the place of prayer, Every week they met those six or eight brethren, and prayed, and sang, and conversed together. They were men of prayer, and such are strong men intellectually; communing with great thoughts clears the mental eye, as much as it improves the heart. Bible men they were, and bible students are strong men, usually. Resorts of pleasure there are in crowded cities, assemblies for the dance and the viol, social parties and merry feastings; and lower still, haunts where the vices do congregate, where loud and vulgar riot holds revelry at the gambling board, and the bar, inviting con genial spirits to its swelling ranks, polluting and withering the fair features of society. But little streams of life-giving power, glide onward through the moving masses, spreading verdure and beauty. Blessings on the philanthropy that enters the haunts where the police only made visits of inquiry, and the watchman sprang his rattle. Blessings on him who descends to the lowest den of vice and misery, not merely to find scenes to depict in yellow-covered pamphlets, not to sentimentalize over a temporary relief; but to uncover the darkness, throw in light, purify and save. Blessings on five-penny savings banks, newsboys' lodging-rooms, clean, sweet homes for thieving little vagabonds, incipient blacklegs. Blessings for a church where old Brewery stood, and for hymns of praise and prayer to God from the Five Points! Blessings on model farm-schools and private retreats for morality, for candidates of all ages and sexes! One hundred millions could be spared from |