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THE subject of this memoir was born at Middlewich, in Cheshire, January 31st, 1839. At an early age he entered the Wesleyan Association Sunday School there, and was a constant attendant till his parents removed to Manchester, when he entered and continued a scholar in the Tonman Street school, till early in 1850, when a room was opened in Bangor Street, Hulme, for divine service and a Sunday school. This being nearer his residence, David and other members of the family became regular attendants both at the school and the religious services. His attachment to the school increased, and nothing seemed to give him greater pleasure than to see an increase of scholars. On account of his zeal in this respect, he was in the beginning of the present year appointed an absentee visiter and assistant secretary; and he cheerfully discharged the duties up to the time of his illness, which commenced on the 10th of September, 1853. He was naturally of a mild disposition; and was much endeared to his schoolfellows and other acquaintances. He delighted to associate with children who loved and feared God, and shunned evil company; he was also a total abstainer from intoxicating drinks, and honoured the cause of temperance until his death. He also evinced a

strong desire for the prosperity of religion, and seldom missed attending either Sabbath or week-night services. He seemed to pay great attention to the word delivered, and was often heard to repeat, "Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, uttered or unexpressed," &c.

The disease which proved to him the harbinger of death, was typhus fever. During the first week he suffered very much; but in all his affliction not a murmur escaped his lips. Once during a paroxysm of agony, he saw his mother weeping, and said, "Mother, do not weep for such an unworthy wretch as me." A few days before his death he sung for the last time that beautiful verse, frequently sung in the school,

"'Tis sweet to sit and sing below,

Of grace to mortals given;
But sweeter far for us to go
By families to heaven."

On Tuesday morning, September the 27th, he was suddenly seized with violent pain in the bowels. His parents were much alarmed, and could not refrain from tears. Observing them, he said, "Mother, don't fret; father, don't fret; if I die, I shall go to a better land.” His father asked him, "Are you happy?" He answered, “Yes.” He was then asked, whether he thought he should go to heaven if he died? He promptly replied, "Yes." Reviving a little, he said, “What a poor unworthy thing I am! you think I was going?" On his father saying, "Yes," he asked, "Should you fret at my going to a better land?" After a pause, his father said, "No, if it be your Heavenly Father's will to take you."


Upon a pious female, who often visited him during his illness, saying, "Jesus is precious," he mildly replied, "He is precious ;" and while she spoke to him about the love of Jesus, he seemed to enjoy a foretaste of future happiness. On Friday, the 30th, a friend asked him whether he believed in Jesus, and that Christ would take him to heaven if he died? His answer to each question was, "Yes." All present knelt, and engaged in prayer; and it was a memorable time; the Lord was present, and

David rejoiced in his Saviour. When talking with his father about, heavenly things, he said he had received much good while the people were at prayer in Bangor Street room. The same evening he said to his father, with an unusual smile, "I am happy." About eleven o'clock, he said, "Father, I have salvation through Jesus Christ." About one o'clock on Saturday morning his father observed a great change in his countenance, and began to weep. Opening his eyes, and seeing his father's tears, he exclaimed, "Father, what are you crying for? I am happy." The same morning, awaking from a slumber, and seeing his mother and eldest sister, he said, “I have seen Jesus and little Harriet" (his sister's daughter, deceased). His sister asked, whether he was afraid to die? He answered, "No." She then asked him, "Why?" and he answered, "Because I feel I am converted." At intervals he would repeat,

"Take my poor heart and let it be,

For ever closed to all but thee," &c.

Between twelve and one, a religious friend, influenced by a strong impression on his mind, called to see him; and having conversed and prayed with him, expressed himself satisfied and happy to find David so well prepared to die. During the afternoon, David continued to talk about heaven, and seemed desirous of information concerning that happy place. The female friend before referred to failed not to direct his attention to the Saviour. Towards evening, it was evident that his dissolution was drawing near. His sister and sister-in-law being with him, he inquired for his Bible, and, giving it to his sister Ann, he said, "Take it, and read it, and follow me to heaven." He then inquired for his father, who had gone out of the room; and immediately he called out, "Father! father!" His father hearing the call, ran up to the room; and, on his approaching the bedside, David turned his dying eyes towards him, and said, “Father, I am going to leave you-I am going to heaven, and I wish you to divide all my books amongst

my brothers and sisters, keeping what you will for yourself. When the Lord is pleased to call you home, I will come and meet you-Jesus is precious-I have that which is of the greatest value." He was then seized with a violent fit of coughing; after which he quietly and calmly fell asleep in Jesus, aged fourteen years and eight months.

Reader, are you in the bloom of youth, full of vigour, buoyant with hope and expectation of many years of pleasure yet before you? Remember, "It is appointed unto men once to die." That the young are sometimes called away. Are you ready? Without holiness you cannot enter heaven. Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation; hasten then to the Saviour, and never rest, till, “justified by faith you have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." You have opportunities of gaining instruction. The Sabbath school, the house of God, are open-improve your time. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, for there is no work nor device in the grave whither thou goest."


A KIND old man was one day walking through a village, and heard a loud noise of shouting and hallooing at a little distance. He stopped, and leaning on his stick, waited to see what was the matter. He soon saw a poor Italian boy coming towards him, running fast from a number of the village children, who were scampering at his heels, throwing stones, and pelting him with dirt, and mocking and laughing at him.

The old man walked as fast as he could up to the Italian boy, and promising that he would take care of him, called out to the village boys and girls to stop. The poor fellow stood close to the old man, and his little enemies ceased annoying him. "My poor child,” said the old man, “I am very sorry to see you so ill used, because you happen to be a stranger and without friends here.

But these children shall not hurt you any more. Take this sixpence, and proceed on your journey."

"And you," he said to the little mob of children, "stay here, for I wish to talk to you."

The Italian boy thanked the kind old man, over and over again, and putting the sixpence into his pocket, he

walked away.

The children stood round the old man. They were rather afraid of his stick; but the old man did not lay this stick about their shoulders, as they might have expected, and as they deserved. He desired them to follow him to a log of wood that was lying on the ground by the road side; and he looked so good-natured, that the children willingly obeyed.

The old man took his seat on this log, and then he said to the children, “When teasing and pelting this poor boy, you think, I dare say, that he is not so good as yourselves; for if you thought he was good, you would not ill-treat him. You would not pelt a boy born in your own village, who made himself useful to his father and mother, and was a kind playmate-would you ?"

"Oh! no," said all the children.

"Well, then, who this poor boy may be I do not know any more than yourselves; but we ought not to think ill of him till we know that he has done something bad. I will now tell you a story about a little Italian boy that I once knew; and this story may show you that some Italian boys, at least, are good, and ought to be well treated.".

The story which was told by the old man on this occasion was as follows

"Some time ago there was a war between France and Italy, and many poor men in both countries were taken to become soldiers; 'that is, were forced to quit their own homes, to go into foreign lands to kill other men, and to plunder the peaceable inhabitants, by whom they had never been harmed. Among the Italians thus forced away was a poor man, living near Naples, who was carried off, with many others, to serve as a soldier in the

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