Excerpt from In Memoriam, Jane Chisholm, Ob. 30th Sept., 1865, Aet. 19: Sermon, Preached at West Branch East River, Pictou, on the 1st Day of October, 1865

And HE said unto them, give placn'; for T1111 Minx) Is' now dead, but sleepeth. - Matt. Ix. 24. IT seems easy to comprehend this death-scene in the house of fjairus. In so far, at least, as some of the circumstances attending it are concerned, the event mlght have been one of yesterday, and the dead one of our acquaintances and friends. We can, in thought, easily cross that threshold darkened by the shadow of affliction, mingle with those mourners that have, long ages ago, slept m their turn the sleep of death, understand their sorrows, and comprehend their joys. Standing by the side of the couch where lies the lifeless maiden, we can gaze upon that brow ennobled by death calm and motionless as the chiseled marble, and more dignified and august, by far, than that of any living queen. And, as we stand by that couch and gaze upon that upturned, motionless face, resting in the strange depth of the marvellous calm of death, ue certainly do feel, that throughout the ages, there is a singular sameness in the existence and causes of human scr1ow, and the bources of human joy. Time, mighty though it be, is not omni potent. Centuries, in their onward march, may lay low and liesuoy the works of man, but they change not the work of the Almighty. The ages, as they roll onwards, witness human customs strangely altered, but they leave human nature unchanged; The house of the ruler has long ago crumbled to dec'av'; those who dwelt beneath its 1oof have passed out into the land oi fo'1 getfulness and silenceg - but the death-scene there witnessed, the emotions there experienced, the wail of sorrow that has thence 1isen heavenward, are such as constantly reappear, and may be witnessed in a thousand homesteads, and heard around a thousand hearths.

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