due south on the 6th at fifty-four minutes past eleven, and on the 22d at half-past ten: on the 11th he is near the Moon.

JUPITER appears very beautiful in the south-east about ten o'clock at night, throughout this month: on the 16th and 17th he is in the neighbourhood of the Moon.

SATURN is to be seen betwixt ruddy Mars to the west, and bright Jupiter to the east. This planet is due south on the 1st at a quarter past three in the morning, and on the 26th at half-past one o'clock: on the 14th he is in conjunction with the Moon.

The GREAT COMET.-This interesting phenomenon, which was noticed to exhibit its long tail, that intersected the horizon, in England about the middle of March, and its bright nucleus to the West India Islands in the first week of the same month,* is now so far distant from the earth, that the most powerful telescope cannot detect it.

On the 17th of March, the train of this Comet was noticed by a scientific gentleman at Epping, in Essex, to extend from the horizon, near the west point, to a distance, towards the south, of fifty-five degrees; and how much of the tail was at that time below the horizon was difficult to say. This Comet passed its perihelion at the end of February, and was then nearer the Sun than any on record, except the one that appeared in 1680.

"Hast thou ne'er seen the Comet's flaming light?
The' illustrious stranger passing, terror sheds
On gazing nations from his fiery train,

Of length enormous; takes his ample round

Through depths of ether; coasts unnumber'd worlds

Of more than solar glory; doubles wide
Heaven's mighty cape; and then revisits earth
From the long travel of a thousand years."

JUVENILE OBITUARY.

DIED, November 30th, 1840, in the twenty-first year of her age, Priscilla Johnson Haigh, the youngest daughter of Mr. James Haigh, of Lindley, in the Huddersfield Circuit, and sister of the Rev. J. S. Haigh, Wesleyan Minister. From an early age she was accustomed to attend the Wesleyan Sunday-school, and derived much advantage from her attendance. When she was about fifteen years of age she joined the Wesleyan society. Her mind

*The Rev. James Horne, Wesleyan Missionary at Antigua, in a letter he sent to me on the 8th of March last, observes as follows:-"A grand phenomenon (a most splendid Comet) started into view here four or five nights ago. The head or nucleus becomes visible about half an hour after sunset; and though the Moon is now nearly half-full, yet it appears bright and well defined. The tail is about one degree and a half broad in the widest part, and well shaped, like a new-planed deal board, and extends to the length of about thirty degrees."

appears to have been gently wrought upon by the Holy Spirit, and she was led, in earnest prayer, to seek for personal acceptance through the Lord Jesus, and the happy sense of it in her own soul. The precise circumstances connected with the solemn transaction are not now known; but her whole spirit and demeanour proved her to be, though a young, yet a decided, disciple of Christ. She walked humbly with God, till it pleased him to take her.

As a Sunday-school Teacher she was much esteemed for her discretion, and punctuality of attendance. She endeavoured to acquire the requisite qualifications for this labour of love, not only from practical application and experience, but from a perusal, as opportunity served, of some of the works published on the subject.

Her health began to decline in the year 1839, and symptoms of pulmonary consumption having appeared, it was soon found that medical skill was unable to check the progress of disease. Sometimes, indeed, her friends were flattered by hopes that she would recover; but these faded away as the wasting progress of the insidious disease became evident: and from the time that she was entirely confined to the house, till her death, a period of about three months, her afflictions were very severe. In the October of 1840, her brother, then stationed at Wisbeach, came to see her. During his stay at Lindley, he preached in the chapel there; and as she much wished to hear him once more, she was taken to the chapel in a chair, and remained until the close of the sermon. This was on the 11th day of October, and was the last public service which she attended. Her brother being obliged to return to his Circuit in a few days, they separated with the mournful conviction that they should meet no more on earth. She endured her affliction with submission to the will of God. In the early part of her illness, her mind was sometimes disturbed by temptation; but God gave her the victory over all her fears; and as her disease advanced, she desired to depart and be with Christ, and often prayed, "Loose me, and let me go." She had no transports of joy, but settled peace, solid hope, and unshaken confidence in Christ. She gave instructions and made arrangements respecting her funeral; disposed of her little property with great calmness; and when she saw the family weeping, she repeated these lines for their comfort:

"For those who throng the' eternal throne,

Lost are the tears we shed:

They are the living, they alone,

Whom thus we call the dead.'

During the night preceding her death she was less restless than usual, and seemed in the morning somewhat better. Suddenly, however, she became worse, and it was evident that death was at hand. Her father saw that she could not speak, and wished her to raise her hand if she felt Christ to be near and precious. She lifted them both, and immediately fell asleep.

J. S. HAIGH.

GRACE DARLING.

BY WORDSWORTH.

AMONG the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart is touch'd, and public way
And crowded streets resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by one whose very name bespeaks
Favour divine, exalting human love;

Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria's coast,
Known unto few, but prized as far as known,

A single act endears to high and low

Through the whole land-to manhood, moved in spite
Of the world's freezing cares-to generous youth-
To infancy, that lisps her praise-and age
Whose eye reflects it, glistening through a tear
Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame
Awaits her now; but, verily, good deeds
Do no imperishable record find

Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may live
A theme for angels, when they celebrate

The high-soul'd virtues which forgetful earth

Has witness'd. O that winds and waves could speak
Of things which their united power call'd forth
From the pure depths of her humanity!

A maiden gentle, yet, at duty's call,

Firm and unflinching as the lighthouse rear'd
On the' island rock, her lonely dwelling-place;
Or like the' invincible rock itself that braves
Age after age the hostile elements,

As when it guarded holy Cuthbert's cell.

All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused, When, as day broke, the maid, through misty air,

Espies far off a wreck, amid the surf,

Beating on one of those disastrous isles-
Half of a vessel, half-no more, the rest

Had vanish'd, swallow'd up with all that there

Had for the common safety striven in vain,

Or thither throng'd for refuge. With quick glance
Daughter and sire through optic glass discern,
Clinging about the remnant of this ship,
Creatures-how precious in the maiden's sight !
For whom, belike, the old man grieves still more
Than for their fellow-sufferers engulf'd

Where every parting agony is hush'd,
And hope and fear mix not in further strife.
"But courage, father, let us out to sea,-

A few may yet be saved." The daughter's words,
Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith,
Dispel the father's doubts; nor do they lack
The noble-minded mother's helping hand

To lanch the boat; and with her blessing cheer'd,
And inwardly sustain'd by silent prayer,
Together they put forth, father and child!

Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they go—
Rivals in effort, and, alike intent

Here to elude, and there surmount, they watch
The billows lengthening, mutually cross'd
And shatter'd, and re-gathering their might;
As if the wrath and trouble of the sea
Were by the' Almighty's sufferance prolong'd,
That woman's fortitude-so tried, so proved-
May brighten more and more!

True to the mark,

They stem the current of that perilous gorge,

Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart,
Though danger, as the wreck is near'd, becomes
More imminent. Not unseen do they approach;
And rapture, with varieties of fear

Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames
Of those who, in that dauntless energy,
Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturb'd
Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives
That of the pair-toss'd on the waves to bring
Hope to the hopeless, to the dying, life-
One is a woman, a poor earthly sister,
Or, be the visitant other than she seems,
A guardian spirit sent from pitying Heaven,
In woman's shape. But why prolong the tale,
Casting weak words amid a host of thoughts
Arm'd to repel them? Every hazard faced
And difficulty master'd, with resolve

That no one breathing should be left to perish,
This last remainder of the crew are all
Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep

Are safely borne, landed upon the beach,
And, in fulfilment of God's mercy, lodged

Within the sheltering lighthouse. Shout, ye waves!
Pipe a glad song of triumph, ye fierce winds!
Ye screaming seamews, in the concert join!
And would that some immortal voice, a voice
Fitly attuned to all that gratitude

Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips
Of the survivers, to the clouds might bear-
(Blended with praise of that parental love
Beneath whose watchful eye the maiden grew
Pious and puré, modest and yet so brave,
Though young so wise, though meek so resolute,)
Might carry to the clouds and to the stars,

Yea, to celestial choirs, GRACE DARLING's name.

Roche, Printer, 25, Hoxton-square, London.