last words to her parents were ;-" Pray, my dear father, let me now go home." In a few lines of his we find the following language of pious acquiescence in this affecting wish ;

"Go then, sweet Sara, take thy Sabbath rest,

With thy great Lord, and all in heaven, blest."

Roland died nine days after his sister, on which sad occasion, the submissive father again vented his feelings in his antiquated measures.

"Suffer, saith Christ, your little ones,

To come forth, me unto,

For of such ones my kingdom is,

Of grace and glory too.

We do not only suffer them,

But offer them to thee;

Now, blessed Lord, let us believe,
Accepted that they be."

Of Mr. Cotton's younger daughters, one was married to a respectable merchant by the name of Egginton, but did not long survive the birth. of her only child. The child also in a few years followed the mother to the grave. The other daughter of Mr. Cotton became the wife of Increase Mather, D. D., one of the most useful men to Massachusetts whom that "mother of great men" has ever produced. Through Mrs. Mather, her father became the ancestor of

several of the most distinguished ministers of the country. His celebrated grandson, Cotton Mather, in our days so grossly slandered and maligned, has noticed an interesting fact in regard to the second, or Old North Church in Boston. The formation of this church, in 1649, appeared to be quite detrimental to the interests of Mr. Cotton; and yet he cheerfully encouraged the undertaking, because it seemed to be required by the interests of religion. Now, of that very church, his son-in-law was pastor above threescore years, and his grandson for forty-four.

Mr. Cotton's widow became the second wife of Rev. Richard Mather of Dorchester, the father of her son-in-law, to whom she thus became a parent by a double affinity. She survived her second husband, with whom she lived in great happiness for many years.

We thus close our account of John Cotton, and those connected with him. That star rose brightly on the older England, and rode through stormy skies. But it sweetly shed its parting rays on the newer England, at its serene and unclouded setting. We close with the following extract from his funeral elegy, by Benjamin

Woodbridge, D. D., which, doubtless, afforded to the philosophic printer, Dr. Franklin, the hint of his famous epitaph upon himself ;—

"A living, breathing Bible; tables where

Best covenants at large engraven were;
Gospel and law in his heart had each its column;
His head an index to the sacred volume;

His very name a title-page; and next
His life a commentary on the text.
O what a monument of glorious worth,
When in a new edition he comes forth,
Without erratas, may we think he'll be
In leaves and covers of eternity.