ticulation was animated and strong. His clear blue eye glowed with vivacity; and his words worked their way into the minds and hearts of his audience. Bishop Doane showed an adaptation to the masses, which many speakers in the sacred desk so much lack. He was a whole-souled, commanding orator, when great occasions summoned forth his powers. The two best specimens of his delivery, within my own observation, were at Mrs. Bradford's funeral, and at the celebration of the last birthday of Washington. Nothing could be more appropriate and more effective, for the ends of oratory, than was his manner on those occasions. At times, I am told, that he did not do himself justice; but he had it in him, and it generally came out. Who of the citizens of Burlington, that heard him on the 22d of last February, did not recognize the voice, the manner, and the presence, of a great popular orator?

suit most men.

"As a WRITER, Bishop Doane's style was peculiar. It was ornate, pithy, Saxon. It was a style of his own. It would not Few ought to presume to imitate it. But it suited himself. Many admire it. It had the great merit of clearness. No one ever misunderstood him, although his punctuation was as remarkable as his style. He was a ready writer; accomplishing with ease all that he undertook, and commonly justifying, in the productions of his pen, the highest expectations. If his higher occupations had not called him away from the pursuits of literature, he would have ranked among the finest poets of the age.

"In the various points of view in which his characteristics have been now considered, Bishop Doane was a remarkable man. And his death was an harmonious termination of a long and useful life. Let us meditate, now, upon some of the circumstances of his departure.

"He died in the midst of his work. His preaching, during his last semi-annual Visitation, was unusually acceptable. Several of my own brethren in the Presbyterian ministry have spoken, in glowing terms, of one of his sermons in West Jersey. His Episcopal appointments in Monmouth county, (the last one at Freehold,) were fulfilled in the midst of rain and high

winds, and sometimes in an open wagon. His services, as was his custom, were arranged two or three for each day. Work was his delight; and at his work he met the premonitions of death. With his Episcopal staff in his hand, he received the wound of the last enemy,-not from behind, but face to face.

"Another kind token of Providence towards the Bishop was, that he died at home. Riverside opened its massive doors to him for the last time; and entering its hall, he found a restingplace in its genial study. After partaking of a slight repast, he retired to bed, never to rise from it. The magnificent mansion, where he had projected his enlarged schemes, written his numerous sermons, and entertained with his profuse hospitality his hosts of friends, was the fit place for Bishop Doane to die. And Riverside had the privilege of his death and funeral.

"God also permitted the Bishop to arrange what was wanting to the completion of his Episcopal work. During his sickness he conversed, for some hours, about the affairs of his Diocese; and gave directions, and left memoranda, respecting its approaching exigency. On one of these occasions, he had a long interview with the Hon. Abraham Browning, of Camden; shortly after which, a paroxysm of delirium occurred. God spared him, however, to complete all the necessary arrangements in the affairs of his church.

"The time of Bishop Doane's death was well ordered in Providence. Had it occurred a few years before, a cloud of gloom would have rested over his grave; and the inheritance of his good name might have been unredeemed from the tax-list of evil report. But the aspect had been changed. His honours had returned to him; and, as if in anticipation of his last end, his fellow-citizens had invited him to appear before them once more in an address. On the birthday of Washington, old memories were revived; and he, who had so often, in former years, addressed the people of Burlington, in its Lyceum, again made its Hall vocal with his eloquence, and again received the applause of his friends and neighbours. His diocese, also, was in a prosperous condition, and he was taken away from evil to come. In

the judgment of his best friends, it was a good time for him to die. And God knew it, above men.

"God was good to the Bishop in surrounding him, during sickness, with the kindest comforts and care. His sons were present with all the activities of filial devotion; one of them from the beginning to the end, by day and by night. The other, who had become a Romanist, received forgiveness for all the personal pain the father and the Bishop had received. This was one of the incidents that must have given to the deathchamber a sublimity. His faithful physician did all that skill could do; and the noble and venerable physician of Bristol, and the most distinguished from Philadelphia, freely gave the contributions of the medical profession. The tenderest female hearts were around about the sufferer,-without which, indeed, no death-bed can be what man expects and wants. It was well ordered that she, who had the first claims to be present, was absent; for could feeble health well bear those scenes of sorrow?† God was merciful in all these incidents.

"The Bishop, too, had his reason at the last. It is sad to die with a beclouded mind. Various intervals of delirium had occurred, especially about the middle of the attack. In these, the Bishop's mind was on the affairs of his diocese, or his classroom, or personal concerns. Disease struck its pains in every nerve, and blood vessel, and muscle of the body, dethroning the intellect, for a time, from its high dominion. But it recovered its place before death, and he conversed with relatives and friends, took a last loving farewell of all, and prepared for the conflict, faint though pursuing.'

"The Bishop was strengthened to die in peace. Partaking of the communion, early in the morning of his last day on earth, he was refreshed by the service, and at its close, pronounced with a clear voice the blessing. He then composed himself for the final struggle. The last words, as taken down by the family physician, were, 'I die in the faith of the Son of God, and the

+"Since the delivery of this discourse, I have received a letter from a relative in Rome, from which the following is an extract: 'In coming out of church to day, we met Mrs. Doane, who, I thought, looked remarkably well. She almost immediately began to speak of the Bishop, and expressed her intention to return home."" C. V. R.

confidence of His One Catholic Church. I have no merits-no man has, but my trust is in the mercy of Jesus.'

"Thus departed, at noonday, April 27th, this distinguished Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America. 'Let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for his mercies are great; but let me not fall into the hand of man.' Bishop Doane has passed away from human judgments, to the judgment-seat of God!

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May all allusion be omitted of that remarkable funeral? "The burial of Bishop Doane was one befitting his position. A Bishop must be buried as becometh a Bishop. The funeral procession was one of sublime solemnity, No one, who saw it, can ever forget it. The day and the season were opportune with the brightness and sadness of the last of April. The coffin borne aloft on the shoulders of fellow-mortals; the royal purple of the pall, fringed with white, and fluttering out to the wind like the motions of a stricken eagle; the crosier overlaying the body with the emblem of Episcopal authority; the bereaved family lamenting with Christian lamentation the father of the household; the three-score of surpliced clergy following their silent Chief with uncovered heads; the Governor, Chief Justice, and other dignitaries of the State; the students of the College with badges of grief, and the weeping young ladies of the Hall arrayed in full mourning, true-hearted representatives of their sister-graduates all over the land; the long line of distinguished strangers and of sympathizing fellow-citizens; the tolling of all the church bells, and of the city bell; the immense gathering of spectators around St. Mary's Church and the grave;-everything was as impressive as life and death could make it.

"The high task I have attempted, has been imperfectly performed. I am ready to meet its responsibilities before God and man. My offering of May-flowers, fragrant with the freshness of their gathering, has been laid upon the new-made grave;flowers plucked by a Puritan's hand, and placed in memoriam over the dust of a great Episcopal Bishop."

THE PROGRESS OF ST. BARNABAS' FREE MISSION. "On the Feast of St. Barnabas, A. D. 1858, the Bishop laid the corner stone of the new School Chapel of St. Barnabas' Free Mission. It was an act of faith and hope, and God has realized it to us. The building was dedicated to the worship of Almighty God by the Bishop, on Saturday, November 27, the last day of Church's year. It is not fully paid for yet, but we trust, in all this year, to clear it of the debt. The east and west windows are gifts; the pelican window, the gift of the Bishop himself. The altar furniture was also given, and the font is the gift of the Parish School children. The plans and superintendence of the building were given by the architect, Mr. C. H. Condit, of Newark. It is an early English building, of brick, seating four hundred persons, with a wooden recessed chancel. Since its completion, the services have increased in numbers and solemnity, and the requirement of the Prayer Book is strictly confirmed to, for the weekly, Octave, and Holy Day, Eucharists; and daily service. The congregation grows in size, in regular and frequent attendance, in devout and decent worship; and it is hoped also, in spirituality and holiness. A Mission work, a work of consolation,' is asserting its power for good; going where it is sorely needed, with the loving help of faithful women. The Mission schools are very flourishing, more room having been given them, by the addition of the old chapel. There are two more teachers, and more scholars. The teachers are of the sort that work for the love of Christ, and of His lambs. Mr. Charles H. Bryan, a candidate for Holy Orders, assists Mr. Geo. Seymour Lewis in the care of the music, which is successful and promising. This constant service is still given, without salary, for love's sake. Much work too has been given by the people, in cleaning the chapel, washing the surplices, etc., without charge; and works of mercy to the sick poor, given generally and thankfully, by the people, are tokens of spiritual life. The plan of daily religious training, and weekly public catechising, asserts still more and more, its superiority over the one hour's promiscuous teaching, in a Sunday School, of weary children, by untrained and inexperienced teachers. Through all