obtrusive, he was, nevertheless, very active, steady, and persevering. He was careful to make the best use of his time. In mere neighbourly conversation he took no particular pleasure, but appeared as though he felt he had a business to mind, and had time for nothing else; manifesting at the same time a warm-hearted affection for his friends, genuine sympathy with all who were suffering; and, in a word, entire freedom from either a self-sufficient complacency, or a haughty repulsive moroseness. While thus engaged in diligent attention to the two great divisions of active duty, in reference to things temporal and spiritual, he still preserved his strong love for devotional retirement. His father says, "When at labour in the land, I believe the trees of a neighbouring wood have witnessed many a fervent prayer to God, as well as the walls of a barn which I occupy." Since his death, in removing some hay from the place last-mentioned, a couple of books were found, which he had left there just at his sickness; a circumstance which very powerfully affected the minds of his bereaved parents, who observed on it, that "their feelings were such as they could not describe, when they recollected that the feet which bore them there had ceased to move, and the hands which had turned over these pages were now cold in the grave." For some time the house adjoining his father's was unoccupied the opportunity of a more complete retirement (as he supposed) he eagerly embraced, and spent many evenings in a chamber in the back part of it. Such, however, was the earnestness of his spirit, that his occupation was generally known when he little suspected it.

In the earlier months of 1830, his mind was strongly exercised on the subject of preaching. His father saw that something appeared to be almost preying on his spirits, and endeavoured to ascertain the cause; asking him, first, if he were unwell; and next, what was the state of the Sunday-school prayer-meetings; to which inquiries he gave satisfactory answers. It was then intimated to him that he was not to be surprised if the enemy of his soul should "thrust sore at him;" but to this he replied, with much simplicity, "I think, father, that my mind is so given up to God and good things, that Satan has very little chance with me." A year or two before, it had been observed that the work of grace on his own soul was evidently extending and deepening; and young as he was in years, God had mercifully established him in grace. The exercises of which I have just spoken, appeared subsequently to have arisen from his own sense of the greatness of the work, to which he nevertheless felt that his whole soul was drawn. He at once longed after it, and shrunk back from it, deeply feeling his own insufficiency; the natural modesty of his temper, heightened by his true Christian humility, prevented him from making known his impressions to the Superintendent of the Circuit, from whom he would have received the most affectionate and useful counsel. That in this he erred, it is now easy to perceive; but this error was on the safer side, and is in all cases to be preferred to the opposite extreme of forwardness, border

rance, and very small humility. Soon after the appointment of Mr. Hannah to the Circuit in 1830, he overcame his reluctance, and communicating his feelings to him, (with whom I am glad thus to associate myself, by calling him my old and esteemed friend,) he received such advice and encouragement as he needed, obtained from him a note of permission to preach, and was afterwards admitted on the plan, raising in the minds of the excellent Local Preachers with whom he thus became connected, very pleasing expectations of his future usefulness in the church and world. It was mysteriously, but we are sure wisely and mercifully, appointed otherwise. On the 10th of October, 1831, after having attended to his appointments on the preceding Sabbath, he was taken very unwell, and so continued for a fortnight, when some favourable change in the symptoms excited anew the hope that he would yet be spared to his family and friends. On the 16th of November, however, the disorder (principally seated in the head) returned with increased violence, and hope began to yield to fear. From the nature of his complaint, he was not able to read without great pain, and was indisposed for much conversation. His father, adverting to the 327th hymn of our large Hymn-Book, William took up the book, opened at the hymn, read the first two verses, but was, through the strength of his feelings, unable to proceed. He closed the book, tears gushing from his eyes. The same evening, to a young friend who visited him, and was conversing on the necessity of being fully prepared for death, he observed, that "he blessed God, who had for Christ's sake pardoned his sins, and cleansed him from all unrighteousness;" adding, "that he felt quite willing to depart, should it please God to call him." So the next day, to a class-mate, who had expressed his fears that the sickness was unto death, he stated himself as being "quite resigned to the will of God, whatever it might be." On the 19th, a sort of apoplectic seizure considerably impaired his power of speech. His mother was unable to conceal her grief from him, on observing which he wept, and begged her not to be unhappy on his account. It was now evident that the disorder was making rapid progress: he suffered much, but not a murmuring expression fell from his lips. It was discovered on the Wednesday, that he had lost the use of his right side; but, on being asked the state of his mind, he replied, very emphatically, "Happy;" and his sufferings being alluded to, he interrupted the speaker, and with much fervour said, "I shall row through." Thus he continued through that and the succeeding day, suffering much, able to articulate very little, and occasionally manifesting a slight wandering. On the Thursday evening, he said, very distinctly, "Mother, without holiness no man shall see the Lord;" and soon after, "Come, Lord Jesus!" He made a few attempts to speak after this, but nothing could be understood. The disease had now reached such a height, that he was unable to move any part but his left arm: this, however, he frequently elevated. On Friday, opening his eyes, he looked earnestly at his mother, with a smile of peculiar sweetness overspreading his countenance, which observing, she went to him and said, "William, I think thou

obtrusive, he was, nevertheless, very active, steady, and persevering. He was careful to make the best use of his time. In mere neighbourly conversation he took no particular pleasure, but appeared as though he felt he had a business to mind, and had time for nothing else; manifesting at the same time a warm-hearted affection for his friends, genuine sympathy with all who were suffering; and, in a word, entire freedom from either a self-sufficient complacency, or a haughty repulsive moroseness. While thus engaged in diligent attention to the two great divisions of active duty, in reference to things temporal and spiritual, he still preserved his strong love for devotional retirement. His father says, "When at labour in the land, I believe the trees of a neighbouring wood have witnessed many a fervent prayer to God, as well as the walls of a barn which I occupy." Since his death, in removing some hay from the place last-mentioned, a couple of books were found, which he had left there just at his sickness; a circumstance which very powerfully affected the minds of his bereaved parents, who observed on it, that "their feelings were such as they could not describe, when they recollected that the feet which bore them there had ceased to move, and the hands which had turned over these pages were now cold in the grave." For some time the house adjoining his father's was unoccupied the opportunity of a more complete retirement (as he supposed) he eagerly embraced, and spent many evenings in a chamber in the back part of it. Such, however, was the earnestness of his spirit, that his occupation was generally known when he little suspected it.

In the earlier months of 1830, his mind was strongly exercised on the subject of preaching. His father saw that something appeared to be almost preying on his spirits, and endeavoured to ascertain the cause; asking him, first, if he were unwell; and next, what was the state of the Sunday-school prayer-meetings; to which inquiries he gave satisfactory answers. It was then intimated to him that he was not to be surprised if the enemy of his soul should "thrust sore at him;" but to this he replied, with much simplicity, "I think, father, that my mind is so given up to God and good things, that Satan has very little chance with me." A year or two before, it had been observed that the work of grace on his own soul was evidently extending and deepening; and young as he was in years, God had mercifully established him in grace. The exercises of which I have just spoken, appeared subsequently to have arisen from his own sense of the greatness of the work, to which he nevertheless felt that his whole soul was drawn. He at once longed after it, and shrunk back from it, deeply feeling his own insufficiency; the natural modesty of his temper, heightened by his true Christian humility, prevented him from making known his impressions to the Superintendent of the Circuit, from whom he would have received the most affectionate and useful counsel. That in this he erred, it is now easy to perceive; but this error was on the safer side, and is in all cases to be preferred to the opposite extreme of forwardness, border

rance, and very small humility. Soon after the appointment of Mr. Hannah to the Circuit in 1830, he overcame his reluctance, and communicating his feelings to him, (with whom I am glad thus to associate myself, by calling him my old and esteemed friend,) he received such advice and encouragement as he needed, obtained from him a note of permission to preach, and was afterwards admitted on the plan, raising in the minds of the excellent Local Preachers with whom he thus became connected, very pleasing expectations of his future usefulness in the church and world. It was mysteriously, but we are sure wisely and mercifully, appointed otherwise. On the 10th of October, 1831, after having attended to his appointments on the preceding Sabbath, he was taken very unwell, and so continued for a fortnight, when some favourable change in the symptoms excited anew the hope that he would yet be spared to his family and friends. On the 16th of November, however, the disorder (principally seated in the head) returned with increased violence, and hope began to yield to fear. From the nature of his complaint, he was not able to read without great pain, and was indisposed for much conversation. His father, adverting to the 327th hymn of our large Hymn-Book, William took up the book, opened at the hymn, read the first two verses, but was, through the strength of his feelings, unable to proceed. He closed the book, tears gushing from his eyes. The same evening, to a young friend who visited him, and was conversing on the necessity of being fully prepared for death, he observed, that "he blessed God, who had for Christ's sake pardoned his sins, and cleansed him from all unrighteousness;" adding,• "that he felt quite willing to depart, should it please God to call him." So the next day, to a class-mate, who had expressed his fears that the sickness was unto death, he stated himself as being "quite resigned to the will of God, whatever it might be." On the 19th, a sort of apoplectic seizure considerably impaired his power of speech. His mother was unable to conceal her grief from him, on observing which he wept, and begged her not to be unhappy on his account. It was now evident that the disorder was making rapid progress: he suffered much, but not a murmuring expression fell from his lips. It was discovered on the Wednesday, that he had lost the use of his right side; but, on being asked the state of his mind, he replied, very emphatically, "Happy;" and his sufferings being alluded to, he interrupted the speaker, and with much fervour said, "I shall row through." Thus he continued through that and the succeeding day, suffering much, able to articulate very little, and occasionally manifesting a slight wandering. On the Thursday evening, he said, very distinctly, "Mother, without holiness no man shall see the Lord;" and soon after, "Come, Lord Jesus!" He made a few attempts to speak after this, but nothing could be understood. The disease had now reached such a height, that he was unable to move any part but his left arm: this, however, he frequently elevated. On Friday, opening his eyes, he looked earnestly at his mother, with a smile of peculiar sweetness overspreading his countenance, which observing, she went to him and said, "William, I think thou

art going to die: if thou art happy, canst thou hold up thy hand?" He understood her, and immediately raised it. This was his last effort. He continued in a state of great weakness and seeming insensibility, till near the noon of Saturday, when his spirit became "absent from the body, and present with the Lord."

At the time of his death he was twenty years and about five months old. It was a somewhat singular coincidence that the Huddersfield society lost, nearly at the same time, one of its oldest members; one who, between thirty and forty years ago, stood faithful to the interests of Methodism, when the society was reduced to eight or nine members, and the very chapel in which they had worshipped was taken from them. She lived to see the dispersion of the cloud, and the little handful of seed multiplied more than sixty fold. To large congregations, in one of the largest chapels in the Connexion, were funeral sermons preached: that on Sunday evening, December 4, 1831, addressed more particularly to the young, by Mr. William M. Bunting, improving the opportunity presented by the death of the subject of the present memoir; and on the following Sabbath evening, by Mr. Hannah, on account of the death of the aged saint, Mrs. Hannah Webb, known by all who knew Huddersfield Methodism, and who had died shortly after William Aram, in great pain, but in greater peace. The young and the old die, but the Lord liveth and reigneth king for ever; even thy God, O Zion, to all generations.

I am happy in having the opportunity of presenting the readers of the Youth's Instructer with the foregoing memoir of one who, though at the time of his death he had passed the limits usually assigned to youth, and was, at the least, bordering on action and responsible manhood; yet still furnishes some special exemplifications of youthful piety. Of romantic incident, of stirring achievement, the life of a young man, who died before he had attained the age of legal majority, whose own hands ministered to his necessities, and who was more than contented with his lot,-who was happy in it, living in the calm seclusion and enjoyment of domestic happiness, under the shelter of domestic watchfulness and affection, may well be supposed to be destitute. To celestial observation his life would appear full of the most important incidents; incidents to which the discovery of the long-hidden source, or long-sought mouth, of some famed river, or the long-questioned passage from one hemisphere to another, would be as nothing. But the works that are wrought for eternity,-the real, not fictitious eternity,— not the eternity of unperceived form, but that along which life and consciousness have their uninterrupted extension, these works, though stamped with an importance which nothing but their reference to eternity could give them, often seem as though they passed away, and were lost among the other invisible realities of eternity. But they only pass away from the view of man. The dwellers in eternity perceive them, and the life which is full of them is full of important incident. To their view, whose judgment is according to