Its

India is one of the brightest jewels of the British crown. It contains a population of more than one hundred and fifty millions, chiefly Hindoos and Mahommedans. extent of country covers as much space on the globe as the whole of Europe, Russia excepted. In extreme length it measures between eighteen hundred and nineteen hundred miles; in its extreme width about fifteen hundred miles. From it we acquire large stores of wealth, and in it many thousands of our countrymen find the means of attaining occupation and wealth.

It seems almost beyond even the marvellous, that this vast region, situate by the ordinary route at a distance exceeding half the globe's circumference, has to its uttermost borders been subjected to the uncontrolled dominion of British sway. We may well and wisely trace this gift of power to Divine Providence; and we can scarcely doubt that, in the purpose of God, India is ours in order

that the Gospel may be theirs. Already the work of evangelization in India has been greatly blessed. There are at least 200,000 native Christians; and what is more encouraging as a promise of future progress, there are manifest tokens that the Hindoos generally are losing confidence in their own superstitious and false faiths; thus preparing the way for the more direct influence of Christian truth.

We hope in our next volume to give some illustrated papers on India. Our present illustration gives a view of one of the chief cities-Madras-from the beach. The site of this city was the first ground secured by the British in India. They obtained permission in 1639 to erect a fort here. No worse position could have been chosen, as it is situate on a flat, sandy shore, where the surf runs with extreme violence; and is surrounded by salt water creeks or rivers, which prevent the introduction of a stream of fresh water into the town. The climate is very hot. The population is estimated at between 700,000 and 800,000. It has some good streets and bazaars, but the houses are very irregular. There is a Bishop of Madras, and it is the seat of all the chief government offices for the presidency, of which it is the capital. THE EDITOR.

OR another thing, Baxter was one of the most patient martyrs for conscience' sake that England has ever seen.

Of course I do not mean that he was called upon to seal his faith with his blood, as our Protestant Reformers were. But there is a "dying daily," which, to some natures, is worse even than dying at the stake. If anything tries faith and patience, I believe it to be the constant dropping of such wearing

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the last twenty-nine years of his life. He had robbed no one. He had murdered no He had injured no one. He held no heresy. He believed all the articles of the Christian faith. And yet no thief nor felon in the present day was ever so shamefully treated as this good man. To tell you how often he was summoned, fined, silenced, imprisoned, driven from one place to another, would be an endless task. To describe all the hideous perversions of justice to which he was subjected would be both painful and unprofitable.

MADRAS, FROM THE BEACH.

and that shall be his trial before Chief Justice Jeffreys.

Baxter was tried before Jeffreys in 1685, at Westminster Hall, on a charge of having published seditious matter in a paraphrase on the New Testament which he had recently brought out. A more unfounded charge could not have been made. The book is still extant, and any one will see at a glance that the alleged seditious passages do not prove the case.

A long and graphic account of the trial was drawn up by a bystander, and it gives so vivid a picture of the administration of justice in Baxter's days, that it may be useful to give a few short extracts from it.

From the very opening of the trial it was clear which way the verdict was intended to go. The Lord Chief Justice of England behaved as if he were counsel for the prosecution and not judge. He condescended to use abusive language towards the defendant, such as was more suited to Billingsgate than a court of law. One after another the counsel for the defence were browbeaten, silenced, and put down, or else interrupted by violent invectives against Baxter.

At one time the Lord Chief Justice exclaimed: "This is an old rogue, who hath poisoned the world with his Kidderminster doctrine. He encouraged all the women and maids to bring their bodkins and thimbles to carry on war against the king, of ever blessed memory. An old schismatical knave! A hypocritical villain!"

By-and-by he called Baxter "an old blockhead, an unthankful villain, a conceited, stubborn, fanatical dog. Hang him!" he said; "this one old fellow hath cast more reproaches on the constitution and discipline of our Church than will be wiped off for this hundred years. But I'll handle him for it, for he deserves to be whipped through the city."

Shortly afterwards, when Baxter began to say a few words on his own behalf, Jeffreys stopped him, crying out, "Richard, Richard, dost thou think we'll hear thee poison the court? Richard, thou art an old fellow, an old knave; thou hast written books enough to load a cart, every one as full of sedition, I might say treason, as an egg is full of meat.

trade forty years ago, it had been happy. Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the Gospel of peace, and thou hast one foot in the grave; it is time for thee to think what kind of an account thou intendest to give. But leave thee to thyself, and I see thou wilt go on as thou hast begun; but, by the grace of God, I will look after thee. I know thou hast a mighty party, and I see a great many of the brotherhood in corners, waiting to see what will become of this mighty dove; but, by the grace of God Almighty, I'll crush you all! Come, what do you say for yourself, you old knave? Come, speak up!"

All this, and much more of the same kind, and even worse, went on at Baxter's trial. The extracts I have given form but a small portion of the whole account.

It is needless to say that in such a court as this Baxter was at once found guilty. He was fined five hundred marks, which it was known he could not pay; condemned to lie in prison till he paid it, and bound over to good behaviour for seven years. And the issue of the matter was, that this poor, old, diseased, childless widower, of threescore years and ten, lay for two years in Southwark gaol!

It is needless, I hope, to remark in the nineteenth century that such a trial as this was a disgrace to the judicial bench of England, and a still greater disgrace to those persons with whom the information originated, understood commonly to have been Sherlock and L'Estrange. Thank God! I trust England, at any rate, has bidden a long farewell to such trials as these, whatever may be done in other lands! Wretched, indeed, is that country where low, sneaking informers are encouraged; where the terrors of the law are directed more against holiness and Scriptural religion and freedom of thought than against vice and immorality; and where the seat of justice is used for the advancement of political purposes, or the gratification of petty ecclesiastical spite!

But it is right that we should know that under all this foul injustice and persecution Baxter's grace and patience never failed him. "These things," he said, in Westminster Hall, "will surely be understood one day." When he was reviled, he reviled not again. He

for ill-usage. Few martyrs have ever glorified God so much in their one day's fire as Richard Baxter did for twenty years under the ill-usage he received.

And now I hope I have proved my case. I trust it will be allowed that there are men who lived in times long gone by whose character it is useful to review, and that Baxter is undeniably one of them: a real man-a true spiritual hero.

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I do not ask men to regard him as a perfect and faultless being, any more than Cranmer, or Calvin, or Knox, or Wesley. But it is seldom that so many gifts are to be found united in one man as they are in Baxter. Eminent personal holiness,-amazing power as a preacher, unrivalled pastoral skill,-indefatigable diligence as a writer,-meekness and patience under undeserved persecution,-all meet together in the character of this one man. Let us place him high in our list of great and good men. Let us give him the honour he deserves. It is no small thing to be the fellow-countryman of Richard Baxter.

Baxter's last days were almost as remarkable as any in his life. He went down to his grave as calmly and peacefully as the setting sun in summer. His deathbed was a glorious death-bed indeed.

I like to know how great men die. I am not satisfied with knowing that men are great Christians in the plenitude of riches and honour. I want to know whether they were great in view of the tomb. I do not want merely to know how men meet kings and bishops and parliaments; I want to know how they meet the king of terrors, and how they feel in the prospect of standing before the King of kings. I suspect that greatness which forsakes a man at last. I like to know how great men die, and I must be allowed to dwell for a few moments upon Baxter's death.

Few deathbeds, perhaps, were ever more truly instructive than that of this good old man. His friend Dr. Bates has given a full description of it, and I think a few facts drawn from it may prove a suitable conclusion to this biography.

Baxter's last illness found him quietly living in Charterhouse Square, close to the

Here for the four years preceding his death he was allowed to enjoy great quietness. The liberty of preaching the things concerning the Lord Jesus Christ, no man forbidding him, was at length fully conceded. "Here," says Dr. Calamy, "he used to preach with great freedom about another world, like one that had been there, and was come as a sort of express to make a report of it." The storm of persecution was at length over. The winds and waves that had so long burst over him were at last lulled. The saintly old man was mercifully allowed to go down to the banks of Jordan in a great calm.

He continued to preach so long, notwithstanding his wasted body, that the last time he almost died in the pulpit. When disease compelled him to give over his beloved work, and take to his dying bed, it found him the same man that he had been for fifty years. His last hours were spent in preparing others and himself to meet God. He said to the friends who visited him, "You come hither to learn to die. I am not the only person that must go this way. Have a care of this vain deceitful world and the lust of the flesh. Be sure you choose God for your portion, heaven for your home, God's glory for your end, God's Word for your rule; and then you need never fear but we shall meet again with comfort."

Never was penitent sinner more humble, and never was sincere believer more calm and comfortable. He said, "God may justly condemn me for the best duty I ever did: and all my hopes are from the free mercy of God in Christ." He had often said before, "I can more readily believe that God will forgive me than I can forgive myself."

After a slumber, he waked, saying, “I shall rest from my labours." A minister present said, "And your works will follow you." He replied, "No works; I will leave out works, if God will grant me the other." When a friend comforted him with the remembrance of the good many had received from his writings, he replied, "I was but a pen in God's hand; and what praise is due to a pen ?"

When extremity of pain made him long for death, he would check himself, and say, " It is

what Thou wilt-how Thou wilt!" Being in great anguish, he said, "How unsearchable are His ways!" and then he said to his friends, "Do not think the worse of religion for what you see me suffer."

Being often asked by his friend how it was with his inward man, he replied, "I have a well-grounded assurance of my eternal happiness, and great peace and comfort within; but it is my trouble that I cannot triumphantly express it, by reason of extreme pain." He added, “ Flesh must perish, and we must feel the perishing; and though my judgment submit, sense will make me groan."

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Being asked by a nobleman whether he had great joy from his believing apprehension of the invisible state, he replied, “What else, think you, Christianity serves for ?" And then he added, "that the consideration of the Deity, in His glory and greatness, was too high for our thoughts; but the consideration of the Son of God in our nature, and of the saints in heaven whom we knew and loved, did much sweeten and familiarize heaven to him." The description of heaven in the 12th chapter of Hebrews, beginning with the "innumerable company of angels," and ending with "Jesus the Mediator, and the blood of sprinkling," was very comfortable to him. "That Scripture," he said, “deserves a thousand thousand thoughts!" And then he added, "Oh, how comfortable is that promise, 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him'!"

At another time he said, that "he found great comfort and sweetness in repeating the words of the Lord's Prayer, and was sorry that some good men were prejudiced against the use of it; for there were all necessary petitions for soul and body contained in it."

He gave excellent counsel to young ministers who visited him on his deathbed. He used to pray earnestly "that God would bless their labours, and make them very successful in converting many souls to Christ." He expressed great joy in the hope that God would do a great deal of good by them, and that they would be of moderate peaceful spirits.

He did not forget the world he was leaving. He frequently prayed "that God would be merciful to this miserable, distracted world; and that He would preserve His Church and interest in it."

He advised his friends "to beware of selfconceitedness, as a sin likely to ruin this nation." Being asked at the same time whether he had altered his mind in controversial points, he replied, “Those that please may know my mind in my writings. What I have done was not for my own reputation, but the glory of God."

The day before he died, Dr. Bates visited him; and on his saying some words of comfort, he replied, "I have pain: there is no arguing against sense; but I have peace: I have peace!" Bates told him he was going to his long-desired home. He answered, "I believe: I believe!" He expressed great willingness to die. During his sickness, when the question was asked how he did, his reply was, "Almost well!" or else, "Better than I deserve to be, but not so well as I hope to be."

His last words were addressed to Dr. Sylvester, "The Lord teach you how to die!"

On Tuesday, the 8th of December, 1691, Baxter's warfare was accomplished; and at length he entered what he had so beautifully described," the saint's Everlasting Rest."

He was buried at Christ Church, amidst the tears of many who knew his worth, if the world did not. The funeral was that kind of funeral which is above all in real honour: "devout men carried him to his grave, and made great lamentation over him."

He left no family, but he left behind him hundreds of spiritual sons and daughters. He left works that are still owned by God in every part of the world to the awakening and edification of immortal souls. Thousands, I doubt not, will stand up in the morning of the Resurrection, and thank God for the grace and gifts bestowed on him. He left a name which must always be dear to every lover of holiness and every friend of religious liberty. No Englishman, perhaps, ever exemplified the one, or promoted the other, more truly and really than did Richard Baxter.