I prepared myself to face the worst; I felt that I must die. though I was so young! though I was all the world to him.

Must die,

But just at that time God took me into His own hands, forgave my past waywardness, made the rough places plain, and crooked places straight, guided and sustained me, so that in weakness of body my soul strengthened and grew. I meekly faced the coming evil. I determined to live more earnestly. I placed my life, with all its passionate longings and childish fears, in the Saviour's hands, and besought that He would pilot me through all the storm and cloud. I laid on Him my guilt, my care, the welfare of my father. I began to feel that I could leave him, that God could take care of him even better than I. I saw the error of my life, the burden of care that I had so wilfully borne those long years back. When health and strength failed, I rolled the burden off, placed it on the Burden-bearer, and He, as of old, bore each grief and carried each sorrow. At last my heart had no load, my mind no anxiety: life, death, ease or pain, I could take what He willed, and be at rest.

The sickness was of a deceitful nature, and at times new vigour used to take possession of me; hope whispered in my ear that I might still live. But I felt that it was a flattering whisper, and heeded it not. I tried to be cheerful the long day through, and found it at times even easy. The old man brightened; earthly blessings became more abundant. At last life became positively glad!

So time passed on, and sweet spring came round again, with its zephyr winds, bright blue skies, and beauteous flowers from nature's choicest storehouse, gladdening the heart and pleasing the eye. It was God, my Father, Who scattered with so lavish a hand all the beauty around, and I thanked Him for it, for I had learned to be grateful for the smallest blessing in life. Every day of the glorious spring-time found me weaker; I could no longer walk to school; I gave up all thoughts of ever entering it again.

Some of my little pupils after the holiday rambles brought me their treasures of flowers, ferns and moss. There was always something sweet and cheering in the children's visits that spoke of green meadows, merry, rippling brooks and shady woods, where once I had loved to wander during the pleasant holiday. They seemed to bring in with them a glimpse of the fresh young world without, of the glorious springtime, the last that I might ever hope to see. I strove not to check their merriment, but could not hide my tell-tale face.

I noticed that the rosy cheek of my favourite blanched a little as she slipped her small hand in mine, and raised her chubby face for a kiss. A look of sorrowing sympathy stole into her laughing eyes, and for the first time I had ever known it, her voice lowered into a grave, sweet

tone. Troublesome in school, yet she was of the truest and most joyous nature. I loved her passionately. I wanted to give her a little memento, so I unclasped a locket that hung round my neck, and fastened it on hers. Instead of abundantly thanking me, as was her custom, to my surprise she threw herself into my arms and sobbed violently. I knew that she had guessed the sad secret that I dare not tell, so I let her have her cry. At last she raised her tearful eyes to mine, to read in them the answer to the question that spoke in hers. I could not speak. Neither of us uttered a word. She had learned the truth; and for the first time her free young soul felt the approaching shadow of death. The first words she said startled me:

'Miss Chrissie, is it very hard to die ?'

'No, child,' I said, smoothing back the golden curls and kissing away her tears. No; it's the separation from those we love that pains; it's a glorious, happy thing to die and be with God.'

But she shook her head; for there were joy and health and love in every step of her child life, and the road had been thornless for the little feet, and earth was fair. She questioned me no more, but looked wonderingly at me.

My dear, dear father! Who will look after you when I am gone? Who will draw your chair to the fire, reach your newspaper, warm your slippers, and learn by heart every look that steals over your noble face? Who will pour out your tea, laugh you into forgetfulness of your sorrows, and rejoice with you when you are glad?

I thought all this one dreamy day in June, while the sunbeams streamed in through the half-closed curtains. I thought a great deal more, too, for I was too weak to do anything but rest and think the whole day long One of our old servants has come back to us, for our circumstances warrant it. A real comfort she proves, though her best days are over; but she has a faithful heart, that glows with a love almost motherly, and her ready hand ministers to our every want. My father grows more tender than ever toward me; he stays by my couch for hours together, patiently watching me. We read and talk together, and grow merry when I feel strong enough for merriment. When I am weary, I lay my aching head on his shoulder, and rest peacefully as a child. And as I rest contentedly, blissfully, with the arm of an earthly father around me, so I feel the Divine arm ever encircling me, and in the refuge I find peace and heavenly joy.

'And so she has gone! My little Chriss, my bonnie girl! Who could

think that cold form was she, with its firm-closed eyes and silent lips! She taken and I left! The young heart stilled, and the aged one wellnigh broken in its agony. But hearts don't often break in their sorrow. God only knows the weight of agony they can bear! I will wait patiently "UNTIL THE DAY BREAK, AND THE SHADOWS FLEE AWAY."

0.

THE

REMINISCENCES OF LEVI COFFIN;

OR, UNDERGROUND RAILWAY-WORK.

HE name of LEVI COFFIN is one of the foremost and noblest of that heroic band who withstood the horrible system of slavery at a time when, and in ə. country where, it was a cherished national institution, and when practical opposition to it was a sure road to severe suffering. Levi Coffin belonged to the Society which, to their honour, have done far more than any other body towards the suppression of the gigantic evilthe Society of Friends. He was born about the year 1799, in North Carolina, one of the hotbeds of slavery. Among the earliest and most vivid recollections of his childhood were harrowing scenes of cruelties practised on slaves. He tells us that he dates his conversion to Abolitionism from his seventh year, when one day, as he was on the roadside with his father, who was chopping wood, a gang of slaves passed them, handcuffed and chained together, two and two, followed by a driver on horseback, with a long whip, such as is used for driving cattle. Well, boys,' asked the elder Coffin, 'why do they chain you?' An intelligent, melancholy-looking man replied very mournfully, 'They have taken us away from our wives and children, and they chain us lest we should make our escape, and go back to them!' The boy's sympathy was thoroughly aroused, and he asked his father why the poor men were thus torn away from their families. And as his father explained to him some of the miseries and iniquities of slavery, the thought naturally arose, How terribly we should feel if father were taken from us!' From that hour the little fellow was tionist.

an Aboli

The story of the 'white-slave,' the circumstances of which occurred in the neighbourhood where the Coffins lived, shows one of the cruelist phases of slavery, and one of the instances in which the deepest suffering was inflicted.

'A slaveholder living in Virginia owned a beautiful slave-woman, who was almost white. She became the mother of a little boy, in whose veins ran the blood of her master, and the closest observer could not detect in its appearance any trace of African descent. He grew to be

two or three years of age, a most beautiful child, the idol of his mother's heart, when the master concluded, for family reasons, to send him away. Years passed; the child grew to manhood, and having received a good common-school education, and learned the shoemaker's trade, he married an estimable young white woman, and had a family of five or six children.

'He had not the slightest knowledge of the taint of African blood in his veins. He was a good citizen, a member of the Methodist Church, and was respected by all who knew him. In course of time his father, the Virginian slaveholder, died, and when the executors came to settle

up

the estate, they remembered the little white boy-the son of the slavewoman; and knowing that by law-such law!-he belonged to the estate, and must be by this time a valuable piece of property, they resolved to gain possession of him. After much inquiry and search they learned of his whereabouts, and the heir of the estate went to North Carolina to claim his half-brother as a slave. Without making themselves known to him, they sold him to a negro trader, and gave a bill of sale, preferring to have a sum in ready money, instead of a servant who might prove very valuable, but who would, without doubt, give them a great deal of trouble. He had been free all his life, and they knew he would not readily yield to the yoke of bondage. All this time the victim was entirely unconscious of the cruel fate in store for him.

'His wife had been prostrated by a fever, and he had waited and watched by her bedside until he was worn out by exhaustion and loss of sleep, and one evening he retired to seek the rest he so much needed. That night the slave-dealer came with a gang of ruffians, burst into the house, and seized their victim as he lay asleep, bound him, after heroic struggles on his part, and dragged him away. When he demanded the cause of his seizure, they showed him the bill of sale, and informed him that he was a slave. In this rude, heartless manner, the intelligence that he belonged to the African race was first imparted to him. To get him black enough to sell without question, they washed his face in tan-ooze, and kept him tied in the sun, and to complete his resemblance to a mulatto, they cut his hair short, and seared it with a hot iron to make it curly. He was sold in Georgia or Alabama, to a hard master, by whom he was cruelly treated.

'Several months afterwards he succeeded in escaping, and made his way back to Guilford County, North Carolina. Here he learned that his wife had died a few days after his capture, the shock of the calamity having hastened her death, and that his children were scattered among the neighbours. His master, thinking that he would return to his old home, came in pursuit of him with hounds, and chased him

through the thickets and swamps. He evaded the dogs by wading in a mill-pond and climbing a tree, where he stayed all night. Next day he made his way to the house of a friend, where he remained several days. Dr. George Swain, a man of much influence in the community, had an interview with him, and hearing the particulars of his seizure, said he thought the proceedings were illegal. He held a consultation with several lawyers, and instituted proceedings in his behalf; but the unfortunate victim of man's cruelty did not live to regain his freedom. He had been exposed and worried so much, trailed by dogs, and forced to lie in swamps and thickets, that his health was broken down, and he died before the next term of court.'

Slavery and Quakerism could not flourish together, and many Quaker families, who felt like Lot in Sodom, removed to free States. About two years after his marriage, young Coffin followed their example, and settled in Newport, Wayne County, Indiana. Here he found himself on a line of the Underground Railroad.' Our readers must not think of the Metropolitan Line, with its Daylight Station route. It was the name given to a carefully organized and elaborate system for