cepted an invitation to become co-pastor with the Rev. George Burder, Fetterlane, London. On Mr. Burder's resignation soon afterwards, he succeeded him as the sole pastor, and soon gathered around him one of the most intelligent congregations in the metropolis, and, but for the irregularity of his preaching, owing to the morbid sensitiveness to which allusion has been made, it would have been one of the largest. At any time a few Sundays of continuous preaching rapidly filled the vacant sittings. His church was almost passionately attached to him, although it must be acknowledged that he very sorely tried both its love and its patience, for, after some ten or twelve years, his presence in the pulpit became very infrequent, almost exceptional; a throat affection gave colour to his nervous apprehension, and the prospect of the Sunday service often so appalled him that he would be up by six o'clock on the Sunday morning scouring the metropolis in search of a substitute, who, of course, had to encounter the disappointed looks of his expectant people, and often their rapid disappearance. Like most sensitive people, Mr. Morris yielded to his nervous feelings, and nursed them into strength. He was never married, and his bachelor's life was doubtless greatly conducive to his disorder. At length Mr. Morris resigned his pastorate, and for a short time, and as an experiment, took charge of the new congregation in Ecclestonsquare. He felt himself unable to sustain this long, and relinquished it for some time. He then held religious services in his own house, very greatly prized by many who went a great distance to attend them; gradually these became mere catechetical exercises or desultory conversations, and at length were discontinued, Mr. Morris having fallen into real ill-health, as well as into a nervous condition more and more disqualifying. He then retired to the home of his childhood, in which he resided until his death. Occasionally he was induced to preach or take part in an ordination or other special service, and whenever he did so his great powers as a preacher were manifested so as to excite feelings of equal admiration and regret; oftener, however, when the time of service came, his apprehensions overpowered him, and he was unable to fulfil his engagement. Mr. Morris was a man of very great intellectual power; if not a profound thinker in the degree in which John Foster was one, he was a thinker of the same order,-vigorous, introspective, patient, and subtle. He published very little, nothing, we believe, beyond a few occasional sermons, one of which,—the funeral sermon for the Rev. N. M. Harry, minister of Old Broad-street,-is a very favourable specimen of his powers. Mr. Morris was a faithful and affectionate friend, of great personal goodness, amiability, and generosity; to know him was to love him, and to love him once was to love him always. Peace to his noble heart, and blessings on his fragrant memory!-Abridged from the "Patriot."

THE REV. THOMAS REES, OF CHEPSTOW.

THE Rev. Thomas Rees was born on the 23rd of July, 1788, in the parish of Llansamlet, near Swansea. His earliest recollections of his mother were her taking him into her own room, and with her hand on his head, praying for him by name. At the early age of ten years he, with three other children younger than himself, was called to lose this pious and comparatively young mother. It was Mr. Rees's lot to pass his childhood and youth among the Calvinistic Methodists, and many and exciting were the religious scenes of his boyhood. It was at that time no uncommon thing for a company of 40 or 50 persons to start together early on the Sabbath morning to hear some good minister at some fifteen or twenty miles' distance, and return at long past midnight, making hill and vale resound with songs of praise.

It was the privilege of the parents of Thomas Rees to live not far from their place of worship, and during a visit Mr. Rees paid to Swansea three years ago he had the pleasure of preaching in the very chapel (of course greatly altered and enlarged), into which his mother carried him in her arms to dedicate him to God in baptism. When he was coming down from the pulpit an old man, too feeble almost to walk, came to meet him at the foot of the stairs, and taking hold of his hand he said affectionately, but almost choked with tears, "Thomas Rees, all you are and all you have been you owe to me." Mr. R. said, "How is that, and I not know it?" "Well," he replied, "when you were a little boy you were playing by the side of the canal, and you fell in; I was at some distance off, but I saw it, and just got there in time to catch you by the hair of your head as you were sinking for the third time.' His feelings towards that old man at that moment were such as he could not express, and often did he use that little incident afterwards to illustrate the love of the Saviour in coming to the rescue of fallen man.

Thomas Rees was a lively, frollicking lad, and his vivacity and humour might have led him into many a snare but for his intuitive love of truth. With the youth of his day the common mode of observing the Sabbath was to play in the churchyard the games contained in the "Book of Sports," so paternally commanded by "the Stuarts." It was the custom of the clergyman of the parish to go early into the churchyard to unite with his parishioners in football, or some such game, till it was time to go into church, and when service was over, taking off his coat and again joining heart and soul in sport, some neighbouring public-house plentifully furnishing the libations to be offered on the occasion. But in these Sabbath exercises Thomas Rees never joined. From his childhood he had great reverence for the Word of God. He purchased a Bible for himself as soon as he became possessor of sufficient wealth for the purpose, and did not forget to take it with him when he left his home go to his grandmother's after his mother's death. The book still remains in his library, and was read by him not many days before his death.

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When Thomas Rees was nineteen years of age the mother's prayers were answered in the conversion of her son, under the preaching of the Rev. Ishmael Jones, then a popular preacher among the Calvinistic Methodists. He was led to give his heart to God, and immediately joined the Church among that body, but shortly afterwards became an Independent from conscientious conviction.

In early life he was married to one who was his faithful companion till within six years of his death. Soon after his marriage he was in the providence of God called to reside at Merthyr Tydfil, and joined the Church at Zoar, under the pastoral care of the Rev. Samuel Evans. His piety and devotedness soon attracted notice, and with the kind encouragement of the minister and the excellent Mr. Edwards (son of the great bridge-builder of Wales), he began to exercise his gifts as a preacher. The counties of Glamorgan, Brecon, and Monmouth were the scenes of his labours as a lay-preacher, and during the time of his residence in Merthyr he made a preaching tour of more than three months in parts of South and North Wales. In 1821 he received an invitation to become the Minister of Llanvapley, near Abergavenny, which, after much deliberation and prayer, he accepted, and there he laboured hard and successfully for twelve years. Besides his ministry at home · he established preaching stations in distant parishes wherever he could find an open door, in many of which there are now permanent interests. On his settlement at Llanvapley he became first the pupil and afterwards the coadjutor of the late venerable Rev. Ebenezer Skeel, who then kept an academy

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at Abergavenny, and who proved his esteem to him by making him his executor, and leaving him a legacy and his library.

In 1833 Mr. Rees became the settled pastor of the small Independent church in Chepstow. The scene was certainly not a very inviting one, the numbers were very small, with no chapel, worshipping in an old theatre, fitted up as best it might be for the purpose. However, urged by his brethren in the ministry, and believing it be in obedience to the Divine will, Mr. Rees accepted the call of the few people to come and try whether something could not be done, and the result proved that the call was from God. The place soon became too strait, and a new chapel, the erection of which cost him much labour and anxiety, was opened in September, 1834, by the late Rev. W. Jay, and the late Dr. George Legge, then of Bristol. Some few years afterwards the late Rev. David Jones, of revered memory, perpetual curate of St. Arvans, died, and with him passed away the Gospel from that parish church. In a year or two Mr. Rees thought it advisable to take a cottage in the village for preaching, and a Sabbath-school, and it soon became apparent that a chapel was needed at St. Arvans. Mr. Rees entered upon this undertaking, as upon the other, entirely upon his own responsibility; and some twelve years ago he had the happiness of paying the last shilling of debt on both ground and building of the Independent chapels at Chepstow and St. Arvans, and securing them to the denomination for ever. Besides this, Mr. R. had a chapel in Hewellsfield, five miles off on the Gloucestershire side, in which he statedly preached for several years, that is, once every month, in the afternoon, the other three Sabbaths being filled up by lay preachers, or any ministerial friend who might happen to be in the neighbourhood. On two different occasions Mr. Rees was summoned before the magistrates for nonpayment of church-rates. The first time his goods were taken and sold. The second time a gentleman, without Mr. R.'s knowledge, sent to pay the rates while he was in the magistrate's presence, or the same proceedings would have followed, for the order for seizure had been signed. The presiding magistrate said, very kindly, and with the hope of persuading him, "But, Mr. Rees, you know this is a legal rate." "The more legal the more offensive to me," was the characteristic reply. Mr. R. had been through life so prompt in all his payments, except in the matter of church-rates, that the public were obliged at last to believe that the refusal arose from sterling principle; and out of respect to his character and consistency the churchwarden for years quietly passed his door.

During the thirty-three years of Mr. Rees's ministry in Chepstow he met with many discouragements, not the least of which was the declining trade of the town-shipbuilding—which occasioned the departure of family after family from among his congregation. In one year he dismissed thirty-five members to other churches, yet he never flagged on this account; his motto was ONWARD! Within the last few years he had the happiness of seeing a considerable increase to the Church and congregation. Long will his ministry be remembered by his flock; his fervent expressive prayers, his clear and powerful sermons, his voice so full, and bearing no marks of age, will never be forgotten; his speeches at public meetings, always full of vivacity, humour, and fervency, are now lamented as things of the past.

Mr. Rees, amid his unremitting toil, was blessed with an unusual share of health; once only in his life was he visited with a long illness; it commenced in February, 1848, and continued more or less till the following August. The records in his diary at this time show how entire was his resignation to the will of his Heavenly Father. From that month to the day of his death

his interruptions from his loved work on the score of health were very few. He was instant in season and out of season. He was the sympathizing and active friend of the widow and the fatherless, particularly those of his brethren in the ministry, as not a few benefactors and recipients can testify. The poor of the town have lost in him a warm and ready friend in their poverty and afflictions. No application made to him was ever refused to visit the sick or the dying bed, no matter what the time or weather was, and during the bitter frosts and snows of last winter, when people could hardly venture out, and when his friends feared each time he went out he might be brought in with a broken limb, he might be seen regularly paying his visits, and, as far as his means would allow, alleviating the necessities of the poor, the sick, and the dying. But at last his Heavenly Father saw fit to call him home, and in such a way that he could hardly be said to die, rather might it be said, "He was not, for God took him.' On Thursday morning, April the 27th, 1865, he was taken ill, and on the following Lord's-day he passed away so gently that minutes elapsed before his attendants even thought of death. There was a placid smile on his countenance, his hands were gently folded together, and not a movement of the bedclothes had indicated any change. His remains were committed to the tomb on the following Friday, by his friend and former pupil, the Rev. G. Thomas, of Usk. The body was preceded by a large number of friends, some of whom had come from a great distance to testify their regard for him, and he was followed to the grave by his entire Church and congregation, all attired in deep mourning. It was a solemn spectacle, and one that will not be easily forgotten in Chepstow. Every mark of respect was paid in the town. to the memory of the deceased, the principal tradesmen partially closing their shops.

"Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace."

MR. ISAAC TAYLOR.

WE well remember the interest which was excited in the Christian and Literary world by the publication of "The Natural History of Enthusiasm," some five-and-thirty years ago. One or two years after, we had occasion, Academic occasion, to visit Professor John Wilson, then in the height of his powers and of his fame, in his private literary workshop-and never was carpenter's workshop more littered with chips and shavings than was the floor of Christopher North's study room with books and papers. Burrowing among these books and papers in search of some volume or volumes to present to his young visitor, Professor Wilson turned up a copy of "The Natural History of Enthusiasm," and said, "Who is supposed to be the author of this book?" The question may have been dictated only by the politeness which would pay some deference even to a young student, but we were pleased to be able to say that rumour ascribed the book to a Mr. Isaac Taylor of Ongar. The name seemed new to the Professor, and it was new to most literary men of that day. But how few of them have left footprints on the sands of time so deeply marked, and so safe for the guidance of those who come after as has Mr. Isaac Taylor! Only once had we the pleasure of meeting the author of "The Natural History of Enthusiasm." It was some fifteen years ago; we had been deeply indebted to his writings, and it was with no small curiosity and interest that we heard his name announced in the drawing-room of a farmhouse one bright summer mid-day, when awaiting the hour of a public service. He had walked from his home, several miles; the visit was unexpected, and the conversation between the farmer and his visitor was of cornfields and corn prices.

The

waste of land occasioned by straggling hedgerows was especially remarked by Mr. Taylor, who told of a Scottish farmer who had lately visited him, and had said that he could pay the rent out of waste lands and ditches which he had seen on some farms in the neighbourhood. Our mind was full of "Saturday Evening," and "The Natural History of Enthusiasm," and we could scarcely identify their author with the farmer's friend. We had imagined a person like the mind with which we had often conversed; large, robust, commanding, perhaps somewhat lumbering, but with an air of deep thought and unquestionable authority. Our dream was dispelled. The outward man now sitting beside us in the Essex farmhouse had a slight figure, below the middle height, on the whole insignificant, with nothing in eye or manner to indicate (at least that did indicate to us at the time) greatness of any order. Albeit it was no small satisfaction to have seen the man with whose spirit we had so often communed. And our reverence for him was not in the least diminished. We hope to be able, ere long, to do some justice to his memory and teaching. Meantime, we can only state that on the 5th of July of this year, Mr. Taylor entered into his rest, in the seventy-eighth or ninth year of his age, after many weeks of great suffering, which he was enabled to bear with Christian resignation. The mind which had been so rich a fountain of thought to many, happily retained its power unclouded to the last.

"The death of Isaac Taylor," it has been well remarked," has severed the last link that connected our time with the age of the giants in the Evangelical movement in Great Britain in the earlier part of this century. Robert Hall, John Foster, Thomas Chalmers, and Isaac Taylor were of an order that has now no living representative. It is astonishing how correct, for the most part, the public instinct is in recognising men of the highest intellectual calibre. The kingly faculty of these men met with a very general recognition; their voice, at least in their best days, commanded universal respect; but to not one of the many able divines that have followed or accompanied them, has the same rank been conceded. These four men rendered to evangelical religion a service of the highest importance. They gave to the winds the notion that earnest piety was necessarily associated with feeble intellect; they showed to demonstration how cordial the alliance might be between hearts completely possessed by evangelical truth, and minds of thorough independence and originality, that could embrace the whole world of intellect in their ken. They removed a great stumbling-block in the way of intellectual men espousing the cause of Christ. If the present age cannot rival the brightness of their gifts, it may, at least, profit by the light which they shed. And it will do well to remember that the eminent position they reached was due not less to their transparent candour, high honour, and great charity, than to the strength of their convictions and the brilliancy of their powers."

The life of Mr. Taylor was a life of devotion to Evangelical truth. The verities of the Gospel were life and death realities to him, and so he desired them to be to all; feeling assured, to use his own words, that, "when once the purity of law, and the impartiality and vigour of the divine government have been admitted, and the thought of standing at the tribunal of God has firmly lodged itself in the mind, the well-founded fear of condemnation is in no way to be allayed, until the SUBSTITUTE of the sinner is known to be THE VERY PARTY whom the sinner has insulted.