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able birth in a stable among the beasts; for His meritorious life; for His watching and fasting, His praying and preaching; for His every action, every thought, every word. For us He agonized in the garden of Gethsemane; for us His blessed head was crowned with piercing thorns-His sacred back was ploughed with scourges; for us He was spit upon, buffeted, abused, blasphemed. The flaming sword of Justice was quenched in His heart and blood; and Mercy opened the gates of Paradise to us His redeemed. May He see in us the travail of His soul !"

"Nature," says Lord Bacon, in one of his Essays, "is often hidden, sometimes overcome, but never extinguished." James Montgomery, in the "FineBread Baker's" at Mirfield, and in the "General Store" at Wath, seems in as fair a way for having his poet-nature extinguished as one is able well to conceive. But man is led by a way which he knows not; and often it is not till after many uncouth experiments that his destiny is at length reached. Our poet's next trial of life's buffetings is in London. His friend the bookseller of Swinton, having forwarded to a bibliopole of the "Row” a manuscript volume of his poetry, the youthful author in a few days follows-literally, like the pilgrim-father of Mesopotamia, "not knowing whither he goes."

Washington Irving, describing Goldsmith's first essay in the same direction, speaks of him as launched on the great metropolis, or rather as drifting about its streets, at night, in the gloomy month of Feb

ruary, with but a few halfpence in his pocket-the deserts of Arabia not more dreary and inhospitable than the streets of London at such a time, and to a stranger in such a plight. The young Moravian has a heavenly compass in his hand, which poor Oliver never knew; but scarcely less friendless does he feel in that vast wilderness. The magnate of the Row gives him a humble situation in his shop-Goldsmith's first refuge was among "the beggars of Axe Lane;" but, like Oliver and his rejected "tragedy," Montgomery finds no patron for his prized volume of verse. Recommended to turn his hand to prose, he hies him, one morning, with a production entitled "Simple Sammy," to a publisher whose special vocation is "Books, bound and gilt, at one half penny." It is his first prose-work, and is to be a sixpenny volume; but Marshall put him off, saying as he leaves-"You can write better than this, you are more fit to write for men than for children." A few more essays, scarcely more successful-and the disappointed youth is on his way back to Wath again, but feeling within him an inextinguishable presentiment that one day he shall

"Strike the lyre

To nobler themes."


"From the soul itself there must be sent

A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element."

The missionary's grave-The slave-Son of a missionary"-Solitary hours-" A clerk"-Sheffield-First fibre-Patriotism-The "Iris”— Castle of York-His "den"-The Muses-Discipline-Pensive lyre -"A farewell blessing"-Sympathies-The little dog.

In a grove of tamarinds, in the island of Barbadoes, a humble tablet meets you-it is a missionary's grave; and, in a secluded spot in the neighboring island of Tobago, there lie the remains of another good confessor, who, sixteen months before, had been summoned to her heavenly home. They are the earthly resting-places of John and Mary Montgomery, the parents of our youthful wanderer.

Arriving in the West Indies in 1784, they had entered buoyantly, amidst a population of slave-owners, and slave-drivers, and slaves, upon the blessed office of making known the glad tidings of the liberty which maketh free. The negroes they had found so sunk and degraded, that the message of life was but coldly welcomed. "O that I knew but one soul in Tobago truly concerned for his salvation," the


missionary had written, after being some time in the island "how should I rejoice!"

"By Satan more than man enthralled,"

the negro would not listen.


At length Mary Montgomery is seized with fever. On the fifth day, the physician expresses some anxiety. "Are you going to leave me alone on this island?" says the missionary. "Indeed I should wish to remain longer with you," replies his dying wife, “knowing how much you want my assistance; but the Lord's will be done." "But if it should please Him to call you home," he says tenderly, can you go with full confidence into His presence as a ransomed sinner?" "O yes," is the immediate rejoinder; "He indeed knows my weakness and unworthiness, but He knows also that my whole reliance is upon His death and merits, by which I, a poor sinful creature, have been redeemed; and I am assuredly convinced that I shall be with Him alway." Two days afterwards, she calmly falls asleep in Jesus, a minister of the Church of England who is present exclaiming, "God is truly present here!"

"From lip to lip, from heart to heart,

Passed the few parting words-'We part!'
But echoed back, though unexpressed,

'We meet again !'-rose in each breast."

The meeting is not long postponed. A year later, John Montgomery also is called away. "They

finished well," said the poet one day, long afterwards, the tear of filial tenderness rolling down his manly face. "I am the son of a missionary," was his reinark on another occasion, as he appeared on a missionary platform. And, indicating how truly he had caught that missionary spirit which elevates a man above the littleness of sects and of isms into the purer and loftier region of God's own light, he added: "I know but of one mission-the mission of the Son of God-the propagation of our common Christianity throughout the world by Christian missionaries of every denomination."

The tidings reach him during his second sojourn at Wath; and deeply do they move his affectionate heart. Again in the service of his old employer, and his chief occupation the delivery of goods and the collecting of accounts in the surrounding country -he luxuriates in the solitude of the grassy lanes, indulging his poetic fancies, and enjoying a graver and a holier fellowship than mortal heart can furnish. But another field is now to open.


In one of his rounds, he takes up for a moment a Sheffield newspaper, when his eye falls on an advertisement from a house in want of a "clerk." is a Printer, Bookseller, and Auctioneer;" and, after sundry preliminaries, Montgomery is engaged. Entering Sheffield in April, 1792, and now in his twenty-first year, he finds in the home of his new employer, Mr. Gales, the first fibre fixed by which he is to be firmly rooted during his remaining sixty years.

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