Bousehold Choughts.

DO I LOVE MY WIFE?

AT my marriage I appealed to God for the sincerity of my affection, and in his presence vowed to live with my wife as a kind and good husband in the Lord.

The word of the Lord is: "Husbands, love your wives even as Christ also loved the Church, and gave Himself for it." "So ought husbands to love their wives as their own bodies." "Husbands, dwell with your wives as heirs together of the grace of life." Has my love come up to this standard? Do I seek the spiritual good of my wife, as earnestly as my own bodily comfort? Do I act as if I believed we were one in the Lord? Do I watch over her spiritual state, to quicken her in duty and guard her against sin, and whisper tender encouragement under despondency and temptation? Do I lead the way in cultivating every Christian grace, and cheer her on to make her calling and election sure?

Alas! I have long enjoyed the affections of an amiable and professedly Christian wife, but have done almost nothing that proves a true regard for her best interests. I have cared for her temporal wants; but, for all that I have done directly to supply her spiritual wants, her soul might have starved. I have not even kept myself acquainted with her spiritual joys, and fears, and trials, and triumphs. Had she been suddenly taken from me, I could not have told from her own lips, whether she was waiting for the coming of the Lord, or not. I have been professedly running the Christian race in company with the wife of my youth, and yet showed little sympathy with her and sought little from her in working out our salvation. I fear, I have hindered, instead of helping her. Is this love? Do I really desire the eternal well-being of the dear partner of my early lot? May God grant me grace to be indeed a Christian husband!-Lynox.

INFANCY AND DEATH OF AARON BURR.

THE oldest son of President Edwards, while congratulating a friend on having a family of sons, said to him, with much earnestness: "Remember, there is but one mode of family government. I have brought up and educated fourteen boys; two I suffered to grow up without the rod. One of these was my youngest brother, and the other was AARON BURR, my sister's only son-both having lost their parents in their childhood; and from both observation

and experience, I tell you, sir, a maple sugar treatment will never answer. Beware how you let the first act of disobedience go unnoticed, and unless evidence of repentance be manifest, unpunished."

The "New York Observer" has the following thrilling and authentic account of Aaron Burr's death:

"In reply to the inquiry made in our columns a few weeks ago for more definite information respecting the religious views and experience of Aaron Burr in the last hours of life, a lady of great intelligence and worth, a relative of the family and of Ogden E. Edwards, who was Burr's last friend, writes to us a letter, from which we make a few extracts. The facts here stated are thrilling in their own interest, and they are sufficient to stamp, as it deserves, the great crime against society committed by the recent biography of that bad man. Our correspondent writes:

"My -, Ogden E. Edwards, who died in 1848, felt a grateful interest in Col. Burr, from the fact of his having, in his prosperous days, aided my grandfather, Timothy Edwards, in pecuniary difficulties. He admired also the mind God had given him, which, in all his degradation, shone forth in the most brilliant and fascinating narrations. He spent a week at my father's after he was 70, and my impression of him and of all he said and did, is very vivid. He was a hater of all mankind, a trifler with all womankind, and violated all the rites of hospitality in the license of his behaviour. Parton's book is a tissue of lies, as far as family matters are related, and oh! how evil in its influence upon young men ! My father used to say that Burr's killing Hamilton was the least of his crimes.

"Mr. Edwards found that Burr was continually annoyed when he lived in Nassau Street by a set of miserable beings, who pretended to have claims upon his charity. One morning there were eighteen or twenty, each telling the story of his or her wrongs. The larger part were women. He snatched a shilling from under his pillow and threw it among them, saying with one of his withering looks, There, ye harpies, take the last cent I have.' Mr. E. then removed him to Richmond, Staten Island, employed a faithful Irish nurse to attend him, and went down every day to see him. One day as he approached the hotel, the nurse met him near the door, saying, 'Indade, sir, he's very bad; he wants the priest.' Mr. E. sent her for the Dutch clergyman, and immediately entered Col. Burr's room.

"He found him struggling with death, and all he could understand was, 'Call the priest, call the priest.' The nurse soon returned with a Catholic priest, but he did not enter the room. My added with a shudder, it was a fearful scene, and I never wish to speak of it again. My mother told me, three months before her death, that Ogden Edwards mentioned precisely the same circumstance to her.

"We would gladly that the grave should hide all the dark catalogue. But the life of Col. Burr is a study of no mean interest and importance; and is it not of fearful import that the shoal upon which so gifted a being was wrecked should be discovered?

"Such is the testimony that has now been developed, and although it merely lifts the curtain for a moment upon the last hours of Burr, that moment is sufficient to show us the dying sinner struggling with the great enemy, and calling help from the religion he had all his lifetime trampled under foot."

Bistorical and Biographical.

THE EXPEDITION OF THE EAGLE-WING.

[The following account of the attempt of the Presbyterians to settle in America, in 1636, is taken from the autobiography of the celebrated JOHN LIVINGSTON, whose famous sermon at the Kirk of Shotts has made his name, as a preacher, immortal.— Ed.]

THE ATTEMPTED EMIGRATION IN 1636.

FROM Edinburgh we went over to Ireland, and remained in my wife's mother's house, being at the iron-furnace of Milton, some twelve myles from Killinshie, because there was so little appearance I might continue in my ministrie there; for in November, 1635, I was again deposed by Mr. Henry Leslie, called Bishop of Doun, and some while thereafter was excommunicated by his order by one Mr. John Melvine, minister at Doun, and for anything I know, that sentence stands of theirs, in such force as it can have, to this day. But I bless the Lord the curse causeless hath not light on me; but I have found since the Lord's blessing on soul and body, on family name and goods. Yea, when after the rebellion I was sent to Ireland in the year 1642, that Mr. John Melvill was among the first that welcomed me a shoare, and professed his grief that he had an hand in such a wicked act. Notwithstanding of the censure of the Bishops, I continued still preaching every Sabbath in my mother's house, whether severall resorted, where Mr. Blair preached, for he and his wife came and remained also at my mother's house.

This winter, perceiving no appearance of liberty either to preachers or professors from the bondage of the prelats, ane number of the north of Ireland, and some few out of Scotland, resolved to transport ourselves to New England; others of our friends thereafter minded to follow us. We had got letters from the governour and councill full of kind invitation and large promises of good accommodation. We built an ship at Belfast, called THE EAGLE-WING, of about 150 tunn burden, and were minded to have set out in the spring 1636; but through the difficulties that use to arise in such undertakings in preparing the ship and our other accommodations, it was the September following before we sett sail. We were in all to goe passengers at that time, the matter of 140 persons, of whom

the chief were Mr. Blair,* John Stewart, proveist of Aire, Mr. Robert Hamilton, after minister at Ballantrie, Mr. John McClellan, after minister at Kirkcudbright, Charles Campbell, John Sommerveill, Hugh Brown, and severall other single persons and families, among whom was one Andrew Brown of the paroch of Lern, born deaf and dumb, who had been an very vitious, loose man; but when it pleased the Lord to work an change on severall in that paroch, an very sensible change was observed in him, not only in forsaking his former loose courses and company, but joyning himself to religious people, and all the exercises of God's worship in publick and private; and ordinarily, morn and even, used to goe alone to prayer, and would weep at sermons, and by such signs as those that were acquainted with him understood, would express many things of the work of God upon his heart; so that, upon his earnest desire, by the consent of all the ministers who used to meet at Antrum, he was at last admitted to the ordinance of the Lord's Supper.

I was abundantly clear in minde that the Lord approved our intention and endeavour, and was as ready in making all sorts of preparation as any of the rest; yea, dureing all that time, Mr. Blair, and we that were in my mother's house, spent one day every week in fasting and prayer for an blessing to our undertaking. Yet I often told my wife, long before our outsetting, that it gave me in my mind that we would never goe to New England. But I laid not so great hold on that as thereafter I found I had reason to doe.

Finding it would be the end of summer before we could be ready to goe, I went in March, 1636, to Scotland, to take leave of my father and other dear friends there, and went to most of all the places where I had haunted before, and found in the midst of much mutual grief my heart often well refreshed, both in publick and private. I came back in the end of Aprile. In August, all the rest of the honest ministers were deposed, Mr. Cunninghame, Mr. Ridge, Mr. Bryce, Mr. Hamilton, and Mr. Colwort. June 30, my eldest son John was born, and was the next day, after sermon, baptized by Mr. Blair in our own house.

We had much toyle in our preparations, and many hinderances in our setting out, and both sad and glad hearts in taking leave of our friends. At last, about September 9, 1636, we loosed from Loughfergus, but with contrary wind were detained some time in Lochryan, in Scotland, and grounded the ship to search some lecks in the Koyles of Boot; yet thereafter we set to sea, and for some space had an fair wind until we were between three and four hundred leagues from Ireland, and so nearer the bank of Newfoundland than any part of Europe. But if ever the Lord spake by his winds and other dispensations, it was made evident to us that it was not his will that we should go to New England; for we forgathered with ane mighty horecain out of the northeast, that brake our rudder, which yet we got mended by the skill and courage of Captain Andrew Agnew, a godly passenger, who upon a tow was to his neck in mending of it. It brake much of our gallion-head, our fore-crosstree, and tare our foresail, five or six of our champlaitts made up, ane great beam under the gunner-roome door brake, seas came in over the round-house, and brake ane plank or two in the deck, and wett all them that were between decks. We sprung a leck that gave us 700 stroak of water in two pomps in the half-hour glass; yet we lay at hull a long

* Robert, p. 322.

time to beat out that storm, till the master and company came one morning and told us it was impossible to hold out any longer, and although we bear out that storm, we might be sure in that season of the year we would forgather with one or two more of that sort before we could reach New England. After prayer, when we were consulting what to doe, I proponed an overture, wherewith I was somewhat perplexed thereafter, to witt, that seeing we thought we had the Lord's warrant for our intended voyage, howbeit it be presumption to propone ane sign to him, yet we being in such a strait, and having stood out some dayes already, we might yet for twentyfour houres stand to it, and if in that time He were pleased to calm the storm, and send an fair wind, we might take it for His approbationof our advancing, otherwise that He called us to return. To this they all agreed. But that day, and especially the night thereafter, we had the sorest storm that we had seen; so that the next morning, so soon as we saw day, we turned, and made good way with an main-cross and an little of ane foretopsail, and after some tossing, we came at last, on the 3d of November, to ane anchor in Lochfergus. During all this time, amidst such fears and dangers, the most part of the passengers were very cheerful and confident; yea, some in prayer had expressed such hopes that rather than the Lord would suffer such an companie in such sort to perish if the ship should break, he would put wings to all our shoulders, and carry us safe ashoare. I never in my life found the day so short as all that while, although I sleeped some nights not above two hours, and some not at all, but stood most part in the gallery astarn of the great cabin, where Mr. Blair and I and our families lay. For in the morning, by that time that every one had been some time alone, and then at prayer in their severall societies, and then at publick prayer in the ship, it was time to goe to dinner, and after that visit our friends in the gunnar-room, or those betwixt the decks, or any that were sick, and then public prayer would come, and after that supper and family exercises. Mr. Blair was much of the time weakly, and lay in tyms of storm. I was sometimes sick, and then my brother McClelland only performed duty in the ship. Severall of these, between decks being throng, were sickly. One aged person and one child died, and were buried in the sea. One woman, the wife of Michael Coltheard, of Killinshie paroch, brought forth an child in the ship. I baptized him on the Sabbath following, and called him Seaborn.

My wife went aboard with her son sucking her breast, being about fourteen weeks old, yet she had milk abundance for him, and to help some others. Mr. Blair was much afflicted with our returning, and fell in a sound that day that we turned back; and although we could not imagine what to make of such ane dispensation, yet we were confident that the Lord would let us see something that would abundantly satisfie us, which began to appear the year following in opposition made to the Service Book, and more fully in 1638 in renewing the Covenant. Our outward means was much impaired by this dispensation, for we had put most of our stocks in provisions, and somewhat of merchandise, which we behooved to sell at low rates at our return, and had provided ourselves with some servants for fishing and building of houses, whom we behooved to turn off. That which grieved us most was, that we were like to be ane mockrie to the wicked; but we found the contrair, that the prelates and their adherents were much dismayed and feared at our return. But neither they nor we knew that within an year the Lord would root out the