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The Moon enters on her last quarter on the 4th, about half-past eight in the morning ; and rises on the 6th at a quarter after one in the morning: she changes on the 11th, at five minutes past seven in the morning; and sets on the 14th at a quarter before seven in the evening. The Moon enters on her first quarter on the 19th, at half past five in the morning; and passes the meridian on the 21st at seven minutes before eight at night: she is full on the 26th, at half an hour past nine at night; and rises on the 28th at ten minutes before six in the evening.
Mercury is visible on the mornings at the end of the month: he rises on the 24th at ten minutes past six, and on the 30th at sixteen minutes after six.
Venus appears near the horizon, in the south-east, at the break of day: she is in conjunction with Mercury on the 22d.
MARS is to be seen before sun-rise, when the air is very clear: he is in the neighbourhood of Mercury and Venus at the end of the month.
The beautiful planet JUPITER is due south on the 4th at a quarter before nine, and on the 17th at eight minutes before eight, at night.
SATURN passes the meridian on the 5th at forty-one minutes past seven, and on the 19th at fifty minutes after six, in the evening.
On Thursday, the 26th, the Moon is totally eclipsed: the eclipse begins at forty-three minutes past seven; total darkness begins at forty-three minutes past eight; total darkness ends at twentyone minutes after ten; and the eclipse terminates at twenty-one minutes past eleven at night. Greenwich.
JUVENILE OBITUARY. 1. DIED, May 14th, 1832, at Rathmullin, on the Lecale Mission, Ireland, Ann Carson, in the nineteenth year of her age. She was naturally of a quiet and mild disposition, and when spoken to at any time on the subject of religion seemed thoughtful and serious, but remained silent. During the autumn of 1831 she evinced symptoms of consumption ; and medical advice being sought, it was considered that her case was uncertain. Her health appeared to be on the decline during the winter; and having exposed herself too frequently to the open air, she caught cold, which contributed to debilitate her frame, and weaken a constitution already undermined by disease. In the spring of 1832 she sunk under the pressure of her affliction, and had to submit to confinement in her bed-room. On being repeatedly and affectionately addressed on the subject of a preparation for heaven, she at first evidenced no heart-felt concern: at length, after conversing for some time on the uncertainty and insignificancy of the objects which generally attract the gay and
which it prepares the immortal soul, she exclaimed, with deep anxiety and disquietude, which could not be concealed, “O this heart of mine ! it is extremely hard.” The writer of this notice seized the opportunity of pressing on her attention some of the great things of God's law, particularly her natural degeneracy, redemption through the blood of Jesus, and the indispensable necessity of faith in his sacrificial death. To encourage her, it was observed, that the Gospel was exactly adapted to her circumstances, as a perishing sinner; and that an immediate application to Jesus could not fail to be successful. After this period her concern increased, which led her to mention her distress to experienced and pious persons, by whom she was visited ; and by thus unfolding her state of mind she afforded evidence of spiritual sensibility, and humiliation of soul. She remained thus for several days, alternately conversing, praying, and meditating; and while engaged in repeating the hymn commencing,
“Behold the Saviour of mankind,
she was enabled to believe that Jesus loved her, and gave himself for her, in particular; and instantly her anxiety vanished, her fears were scattered, and her happy soul exulted in the favour of God.
A few days subsequent to this I went to visit her; and on entering her apartment I could easily discover that a change of no common nature had taken place. Her countenance was cheerful, and her speech animated. The first words she used were, “The Lord has blotted out my offences. I have the forgiveness of my sins." She then requested that I would administer to her the Lord's supper; and, being joined by others, we, in union with this new-born soul, partook of the memorials of dying love, and testified our gratitude by showing forth the Lord's death. The presence of the Lord was specially felt, and impressions of a lasting kind were produced. She now considered it her duty to tell of the lovingkindness of the Lord, and spend her remaining time and strength in recommending the sinner's Friend. To the young persons that visited her, she would often say, See that you pray in earnest; prepare for death, and for dwelling with God in heaven. The world in which you now live has nothing to make you happy.” Often she added, “I have heard sermons, and engaged in prayer, but not with that seriousness necessary to please God, and obtain a blessing. If God were to raise me up from this bed of affliction, through divine grace I would lead a new life, and study to ornament my profession; but I would rather depart, and be with Christ. I have now a hope of heaven which I would not exchange for ten thousand worlds." On seeing her mother weep, she inquired if these were tears of joy; and observed, that she ought to rejoice in having a daughter about to take possession of everlasting glory. To her relations, acquaintance, and the servants that attended her, she spoke on spiritual subjects with a facility, clearness, and pathos, that delighted every visiter and beholder.
signed, and happy; for the agitated mind was now tranquillized, by the introduction of heaven-born peace. Her conversation was truly in heaven. She spoke of death with the most perfect composure, its sting being now extracted. She talked of an eternal weight of glory, of mansions of light, and crowns of life, with a familiarity and anticipation which afforded delight to all who heard her. of those occasions that I visited her, she said, “ I have no wish to continue any longer in this world; it is a vain and uncertain world ; I would now much rather die, and go to heaven. For me to die would be gain.” At the same time she said, “ Having now obtained peace, and an interest in Jesus, how shall I retain these biessings, so as to die in the favour of God?” On being informed that these blessings were retained by faith, and resting the soul entirely on the atonement of the Saviour, she appeared quite satisfied, and entertained no doubt that her end would be peace.
From this time until she terminated her earthly career, her body became more weak, but her soul continued very happy. While her weak state and partial silence warned of the near approach of death, her occasional expressions, and earnest breathings of soul, indicated the nearness of her sanctified spirit to the palace of angels and God. Shortly after, her cough, which was very painful, subsided; her respiration became less frequent; and she sunk in the arms of death, without a distressing struggle. Her conversion and death bave been instrumental in quickening the society of which she was a member ; and recently several have been awakened, whose present conduct promises future stability.
ROBERT H. LINDSAY.
2. Died, at Little-Kelk, in the Bridlington Circuit, May 25th, Jeremiah Lamplough, aged fifteen years, Though young, he possessed many excellencies which are often sought for in vain, even in those of riper years. Like Timothy, from a child he was acquainted with the Scriptures of truth; and by those he endeavoured to regulate his life and conversation. In his childhood he was remarkably sedate, and seldom appeared to relish the sports and follies of children in general; bis chief delight being in reading, and singing hymns and spiritual songs : for the latter exercise he was well qualified, having an excellent voice, and a fine taste for vocal music. His obedience to his parents was cheerful and constant. His mother says, she does not remember that he ever intentionally disobeyed. In a character so truly amiable, the young reader may imagine he beholds a “heaven-born saint;" but, alas, had he rested here, he would have come far short of that inward peace and love which shone so conspicuous in his last illness.
In November, 1831, he became a pupil in the Sunday-school at Harpham; and continued to attend until prevented by sickness. Soci: after his admission into the school, he was awakened to a sense of his lost state by nature, under a sermon preached in the schoolroom; and from that time he never rested until he found the pearl of great price, the forgiveness of his transgressions. He now rejoiced in God his Saviour: the love of God was sweetly shed abroad
in his heart; and he might be truly said to be born for a better world. Soon after his conversion he was visited by Mr. Jewitt, one of the Itinerant Preachers, and closely questioned as to the time and manner of his release from spiritual bondage; and his answers were so clear and satisfactory as not to leave a doubt on the mind of his being converted to God.
In a journal, which he commenced writing soon after his conversion, he writes, “ I bless God that I was born of praying parents, who endeavoured to bring me up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. By their pious instruction, and by being regularly taken by them to the house of God, I was restrained from committing many heinous sing. I cannot remember the time when the Spirit of God first strove with me; but I was very young. I was a strong, healthy child, and bade fair for manhood; but in a few years health was taken away, and pain and sorrow came upon me. In the year 1829 it pleased the Lord to afflict me with an abscess on my breast, which brought me very low.” Here ends his journal. It is highly probable that the affiction of which he speaks laid the foundation of the pulmonary complaint of which he died. For some time before his death he seemed to enjoy a constant and
It was truly good to be with him ; especially when surrounded by his young friends. At these times it would have staggered infidelity itself to hear him talk as calmly and composedly of death as if it were a pleasant journey. It appeared that patience in him had her perfect work; and that he was completely dead to the world. At one time he exultingly said, “I know that my Redeemer liveth ; and that he shail stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and not another.” To his mother, on saying something to him about dying, he said, "If God gives me grace to live with, he will give me grace to die with.” He frequently prayed for his only sister, that she might follow him as he followed Christ; and that he, and his sister, and parents, might all meet in glory. Then, he used to say,
“We'll range the sweet plains on the banks of the river,
To some friends who visited him, he said, “ When I am most afflicted, and nearest the gates of death, I am the happiest.” He one night awoke his mother, and said, “ I never felt so near death as I do now; and if the thoughtless, who are contriving to ornament their bodies, only felt what I feel, they would not do so." When his father went home from his labour in the evenings, he was in an ecstasy of joy: he used to say, “No one knows, but myself, how much good I derive from seeing my father;" and added, “ I have need of all prayer for humility.” To a cousin he said, “O repent, and turn to the Lord, while in youth, or I shall stand a witness
to his bed, he said, “ I cannot reward you; but may the Lord reward you an hundred-fold ;” and added, “Bless the Lord, he always provides before I want.” A few hours before his death, his aunt observed, “ Death is approaching; but it is no terror to thee!" He smiled, and said, “O no.” His mother said, “ Hast thou anything more to say to me? He earnestly replied, “ Live to the Lord, mother.” He often prayed that he might die like one falling asleep; and the Lord was pleased to grant his request ; for after kissing his father, and grasping his hand, he sweetly fell asleep in Jesus.
THE HORSE TO HIS RIDER. On the frequent wanton Abuses of the Powers of that noble Animal.
O, MASTER, cease! a little mercy lend,
Nor thus my reeking sides incessant play;
Nor thus my efforts cruelly repay.
And day's meridian scarcely now is o'er;
That lowly stable's hospitable door.
Ye soon beneath your cruel load must sink ;
My life fast verges to destruction's brink.
And ever ran thy soothing hand to greet ;
To show thee early that my powers were fleet.
My velvet ear to' endure the iron's heat,