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oner of Jesus Christ" arrives, on another of his kindly errands. The choice is announced; and, as the record again runs, "he, accepting thereof, gives himself up to serve Christ and His Church in this charge, and receives from the elders the right hand of fellowship, after having preached fifteen years." Commended to the Lord and to the word of His grace, the pastor, as he rises, says-"My dear children, the milk and honey are beyond this wilderness. God be merciful to you, and grant that you be not slothful to go in and possess the land." He returns to the "den," but "with much content, through grace." Yes, thou brave confessor, thou art not forsaken or out of mind.

"Justice hath her balances;

Another world can compensate for all;

The daily martyrdom of patience shall not be wanting of reward."


"Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbribed,
Were copied close in him, and well transcribed."

"Speaks, with plainness art could never mend,
What simplest minds can soonest comprehend."

Scene in the Channel-The bankrupt merchant-The landing-Court of St. James's-The audience-"Six poor Quakers"-Owen and the tinker-The petition-Liberation-The "motto"-The meeting-Scene in London-The appeal-Fellowship-The Shibboleth.

OFF Brighton, then a fishing village, a boat is seen one night, making for the coast of France. On board is a mysterious stranger, very restless and very wretched, whom the sailors believe to be a bankrupt merchant, in hot haste to escape the bailiffs. One eye

has recognized him; and the bankrupt trembles from head to foot, until a side-whisper from the mate assures him that he is safe in his hands. After a rough passage, they reach the opposite coast off Fecamp: faithful to his word, the mate rows his passenger ashore; and, in shoal water, he carries him on his shoulders to the land.

Twenty years elapse, and the mate finds himself at St. James's, in the audience-chamber of Charles II. He has just returned from the West Indies, after a

long absence; and, hearing that multitudes of his brethren of the "Society of Friends" are in prison for conscience' sake he has agreed to intercede for them with the king, whom he has never seen since they parted that morning on the shore.

"Ah!" exclaims his majesty, instantly recognizing his deliverer," why have not you come to claim your reward?"

"I have been rewarded enough, Sire, with the satisfaction of having saved life."

"Is there any favor I can grant you!"

"Sire, I ask nothing for myself, but for my poor friends, that you should set them at liberty, as I did your majesty!"

"I will release any six you name."

"What!" says the sailor, bluntly, "six poor Quakers for a king's ransom!"

"Come back another day," says the king, kindly, "and we shall see what can be done."

The liberations begin; and another voice is lifted at Court in behalf of another prisoner.

"How," said Charles, a year or two after this, one day, to Dr. John Owen, " can a learned man like you sit down to hear a tinker prate?"

"May it please your majesty," answered Owen, "could I have the tinker's abilities for preaching, most gladly should I relinquish all my learning."

Whilst the tinker is yet in prison, Owen has read some of his wonderful treatises, and has heard of his godly ways. A hint reaches Bedford, that a new

petition to the king may not now be fruitless. A week or two pass; and, sitting in council, his majesty has before him a certificate from the Sheriff in Bedfordshire, that Bunyan's only crime is "nonconformity." It is the day to issue the royal deed of pardon, opening the prisons to four hundred and seventyone Quakers, and to about a score of Baptists and Independents. And to the bede-roll is added the name of John Bunyan. It is on May 17, 1672.

The "den" is exchanged for a humble cottage; and, to supply the wants of his family, he combines for a time with his pastoral work the trade of a brazier. "Love not the world," is his remark one day to a friend; "for it is a moth in a Christian's life." His own simple habits are a daily commentary upon that weighty counsel.

The tinker's words are eagerly sought after by hungering and thirsting souls. Whilst his friends are erecting a large place of worship, the earnest man is to be seen, like the Master, going everywhere, from house to house, "teaching and preaching." And, at its opening, it is "so thronged that, though it is very spacious, many are constrained to stay without, every one striving to partake of his instructions."

It is a cold winter morning in London; and we hasten along in the dim dawn, the oil-lamps still casting their feeble glimmer on a stream of workingmen, unusually soon astir and plainly bent on some engrossing errand. We fall into the stream, and are

carried with it into a capacious chapel, which, though it is not yet seven o'clock, is already filled to overflowing, with an audience rarely seen on a workingday in such a place. A few minutes pass; and a broad-shouldered, cliff-browed countryman is strug gling, amidst a buzz of whispers, up the pulpit-stair. He rises; and as he utters, in his sturdy vernacular, his burning appeals, it is " to astonishment, as if an angel or an apostle had touched the people's souls with a coal of holy fire from the altar."*

Another time, it is the Sabbath; and only a single day's notice has been given of his visit to town. We repair to the spot-it is the "Town's end Meetinghouse," holding between one and two thousand persons. The doors are scarcely opened, when the anxious multitude pour in, "half being fain to go back again for want of room." The preacher "himself is fain, at a back-door, to be pulled almost over people to get up-stairs to his pulpit." And oh, how he pleads with these souls! "I have been vile myself," he says, "but have obtained mercy; and I would have my companions in sin to partake of mercy too. A great sinner, when converted, seems a booty to Jesus Christ. He gets by saving such an one: why, then, should both Jesus lose his glory and the sinner lose his soul, at once, and that for want of an invitation? Come, pardon and a part in heaven and in glory cannot be hurtful to you! Manasseh was a bad man, and Magdalene was a bad woman; *The authority is the Rev. Charles Doe, who was present.

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