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baths, Mr. Blatchford visited them. He had not long before that time, resigned the pastoral charge of a church in Salem. The first sermon which he preached in either of those churches, perhaps the first one he preached in this peninsula, was delivered in Snowhill, on a Sabbath morning in the month of June. His text was Job xxvii. 8th.-" For what is the hope of the hypocrite though he hath gained, when God taketh away his soul ?" It was an able, pungent, searching sermon, and made a deep impression

upon his auditory. His preaching was most acceptable to christians of all names; and whilst he laboured here, the people became increasingly interested in his public ministrations. His sermons were not merely carefully, but punctiliously elaborated, and he read them, I believe, precisely as they'had been written. The churches of Snowhill, Pittscreek and Rehobeth, had the larger share, but the church at Princess Anne (I ought to say the church at Monokin, for that is its name,) also enjoyed a portion of his labours. I never knew a minister who gained more rapidly upon the affections of those whom he taught publicly ; but especially of those with whom he mingled in social intercourse. It fully justified the expression in an obituary notice, written by a friend, who had no doubt known him much longer than I: All who knew him loved him.On Sunday, the day of

1822, he preached three times in the church at Snowhill. His public prayers, at all times remarkable for their Auency, fervour, and humble familiarity with God,

were so remarkable for those qualities on that day, and especially in the evening, as to thrill the feelings of those who in faith united with him. I remember distinctly the expression of a female in very humble life, a member of a church of a different name : “I never heard such prayers,” said she, “they pierce through and through me.” Her form of expression might perhaps have been more elegant, but any attempt of mine to communicate to you the same truth with equal force, would be worse than in vain. The text of his third sermon preached on the evening of that day, was John i. 41 : “ We have found the Messias; which is, being interpreted, the Christ.” I know not that he had ever preached with deeper feeling or greater power, and he concluded the sermon by repeating that solemn hymn, one verse of which is :

Lo! on a narrow neck of land,
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand,

Yet how insensible!
A point of time, a moment's space,
Secures me in that heavenly place,

Or shuts me up in hell!

It was his last serion, and but one other earthly Sabbath dawned upon him; for on Saturday the 7th of September, at Princess Anne, whither he had gone but a few days before, he fell asleep, and entered, I doubt not, upon a Sabbath, which will never end.

On the morning of Sunday, I attended his funeral, and could my pen shed the light of pure, unadulterated truth upon the scenes to which that visit introduced me, this letter I am persuaded would have at. tractions for you, although the transactions of yesterday constitute its burden. You know that I have visited Princess Anne very many times, in fact have spent much time there ; but never did I see that village so quiet on any day as on that one--it was Sabbath stillness indeed. The people of the place of all classes, were not only grave but seemed awed, and their sensibilities were certainly tenderly alive. Princess Anne certainly never looked so lovely. The funeral services were performed in the church, and at the grave. In the absence of a Presbyterian minister, an Episcopal clergyman preached a sermon on the occasion: he was assisted in the other services by two brethren of the Methodist Episcopal church. The sermon was a good one, and the other exercises were not only appropriate, but interesting. I have been in many worshipping assemblies, but that certainly was one of the most solemn and tender congregations of which I ever made a part. The death of Mr. Blatchford was unexpected: the people appeared to recognize the hand of “the Judge of all the earth,” to realize the uncertainty of their own hold on life ; to feel, in a measure at least, the import of the injunction, “ Be still and know that I am God;" and the removal of such a man to his “ long home," whilst far away from father, and mother, and wife, and children, and all the friends of his early life, aroused all their sympathies, and bathed the faces of the speakers and many of their hearers in tears. I remember at this moment, the appearance and the manner of one of the Methodist clergymen who stood at the head of the grave: his eyes were red and swollen, and his voice husky; and elevating his right hand, he commenced an address to the congregation, substantially as follows:“ It has been, and is, my prayer, to die as our brother has died; to be called home while busily engaged doing my Master's work.” But I feel that all my attempts to do justice to the events which this letter notices, have failed, and I will now release you from the perusal of its dull details. I send you herewith a copy of a letter which I addressed to a friend in Philadelphia, in October 1831, which appeared in the Christian Advocate of the succeeding month. It contains a brief memoir of a ruling elder, who was one of my most highly valued friends.

LETTER XVI.

Memoir of John P. Duffield, Esq.

Rev. Sir,

The reading of this brief memoir of a departed friend, may afford you but little ple

but little pleasure; and that you receive it, is attributable to the promise that I made you I

at our last interview, that I would prepare and forward it to you. Forgive, my friend, its dulness, in consideration of its object, and the simplicity of my purpose. I would record several particulars in relation to a christian brother removed from his labours to his rest, which depend entirely upon my own memory; I would exhibit a triumph of divine grace; I would furnish you with a few incidents in the life of a ruling elder, the recollection of which is most agreeable to myself. How lamentably small is the number who know any thing of the spiritual character of the office of ruling elder or of its dignity in the church of God!

John Potts Duffield was the son of Dr. Benjamin Duffield, a distinguished physician of Philadelphia, and was born in that city November 2d, 1784.

His father was attached to the Episcopal church; and the son was baptized by him, who is at this time

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