creature, and I went with her to the parish nurse for the infant, which she brought to her home with joy, exclaiming, in the very words of the prophet, 'Poor child, though thy mother has forgotten thee, I will not forget thee.' Eight years have elapsed since she brought to her humble home that exposed infant, and she is now blind from the constant exposure to wet and cold; and ten times a day may be seen that poor watercarrier passing with her weary load, led by this little foundling boy. O merciful Jesus, I would gladly sacrifice the wealth and power of this wide world, to secure to myself the glorious welcome that awaits this poor blind water-carrier on the great accounting day! Oh, what, compared to charity like this, the ermined robe, the ivory sceptre, the golden throne, the jewelled diadem!"

Father Mathew died in December, 1856, aged sixty-six years. The great expenses in which he was involved by his labors on behalf of temperance caused him much pecuniary embarrassment in his later years. Queen Victoria granted him a pension of three hundred pounds a year, and he derived considerable sums from the sale of medals and diplomas; but he gave away as many as he sold, and, I believe, that at the time of his death he was insolvent.

Often, in going through streets where every other house contains a grog-shop, I have been ready to exclaim: "Oh for another Father Mathew !"

SCENE IN THE LIFE OF AARON BURR.

IN 1812, Aaron Burr returned from Europe, fifty-six years of age, a ruined man. Although acquitted in his trial for treason, his countrymen believed him guilty, and his old friends generally shunned his company. For four years he had wandered about Europe, and now returned home deeply in debt and destitute of resources, to endeavor to earn his livelihood by his old profession of the law.

The first news which met him on his arrival was that his only daughter had lost her only child, a boy of whom Burr was extravagantly fond. He urged his afflicted daughter, who then resided in South Carolina, to visit him in New York; and for this purpose she embarked on board of a small schooner, which was wrecked a few days after, and all on board perished. Ere long her husband died, and Burr was alone on the earth. To use his own language, he was "severed from the human race."

These heavy blows, following one another so quickly, touched the hearts of some, who had known him formerly, with compassion, and this feeling would have prompted them to offer him consolation, but for the belief that his heart was not contrite, and that his life was no purer than it had been during his fortunate days. Respectable citizens, therefore, still held aloof from the man whom once they had courted, and whose company they had once considered an honor.

There was at that time in New York a society of religious ladies, of different churches, who were in the habit of meeting weekly for conversation and religious exercises. These ladies remembered that Aaron Burr was the grandson of one distinguished clergyman, and the son of another, and that his mother had been a woman eminent for her goodness. Often, in their

meetings, Colonel Burr, his errors and his sorrows, and the virtues of his ancestors, were the subject of conversation; and it occurred to them that, perhaps, if he were kindly approached and wisely admonished, he might repent of the past, reform his conduct, and restore himself to the respect of his fellow-citizens. As he was never seen in a church, the ladies were puzzled to devise a scheme for getting access to his ear.

They concluded, at length, to request one of the clergy to call upon him, and remind him of his virtuous ancestry, and urge him to follow their example. The person whom they selected for the errand was the Rev. Dr. J. M. Mathews, of the Dutch Reformed Church, afterwards Chancellor of the New York University, and still living among us. Dr. Mathews strenuously objected to undertake so delicate and embarrassing a mission; but the ladies continuing to persuade him, he at length reluctantly undertook it.

Colonel Burr then lived and practised law in Nassau Street, within a few steps from the spot where he had established himself as a young practitioner thirty years before. Dr. Mathews called in the evening, and was informed that Colonel Burr was at tea. He sent in his name, however, and Burr immediately came into the hall, asked him into his parlor, and behaved to him with that exquisite courtesy for which he was so famous. He invited the doctor to take a cup of tea, which, he said, was to him "tired nature's sweet restorer," and added that tea was everything to him, and that he often sipped it through the whole evening. He resumed his tea, and continued to taste it occasionally during most of the conversation which followed. As Dr. Mathews did not immediately explain the object of his coming, they conversed for a while upon various topics; and the doctor testifies, in his "Recollections," that nothing can be imagined more delightful than Burr's conversation, nor more fascinating than his manners.

The clergyman ventured, after some delay, to approach the object of his visit by saying, that Colonel Burr's return to New York was a proof that the foreign lands, upon which he had been conversing, had not weaned him from his own country, and that he might be glad to know that he still had friends in Amer

ica who took a deep interest in his welfare. Burr looked surprised, and fixed his eyes upon his visitor as though eager for an explanation of his remark. The doctor then stated his mission, and informed him at whose request it was undertaken. Burr listened most attentively, and when his visitor ceased speaking, he exclaimed:

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"Do I understand you rightly? Do you say that these Christian ladies and with the husbands of some among them I have formerly been acquainted-have thought of Aaron Burr with kindness, and have made me a subject of their prayers for Divine mercy on my behalf? It is what I little expected, and, as a gentleman, I thank them for their kind remembrance of me. Be so good as to assure them of it. But, sir, I fear it is all in vain; I fear they are asking Heaven for what Heaven has not in store for me."

Dr. Mathews assured him that the ladies hoped for better things, and asked permission to speak plainly to him.

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'Certainly, certainly,—most certainly," he answered; "why should you not? You can have but one motive in holding this interview. Let me hear what you would say. You have met me with a look of kindness; you speak to me in tones of kindness. I do not so often meet with this from gentlemen in New York as to cast it behind me. Speak plainly to me, and I will speak plainly to you."

The doctor then asked him this question:

"Do you believe in the truth and inspiration of the Bible?" "I suppose," he replied, "I am generally considered an infidel. But I am not an infidel in the proper sense of the word. I will not so disparage my own power to judge of evidence as to deny that the Bible is true. The only real infidel is the man who does not think, and because he is afraid to think. We will proceed on the supposition that the Bible is to be believed!"

Dr. Mathews then proceeded to accomplish the object of his coming. He spoke of Burr's religious ancestors, and dwelt upon his mother's hopes for him at his birth, when she prayed that her son might be as good a man as his father. At considerable length he reviewed his past history, and the efforts that had been made in his childhood and youth to train him up in the

way he should go. At the mention of his mother, Colonel Burr appeared to be deeply moved, and he listened to all the remarks of his visitor with every appearance of interest. The doctor paused at length, and waited for him to speak.

"Perhaps," said Burr, "you would like to proceed. You know we are to speak without restraint; I take it all well, for I know it is well meant.

The doctor answered that there was another subject to which he wished to allude, and yet scarcely knew how to introduce it. "I wish to hear you," said Col. Burr.

The clergyman then cut deeply into the heart of the bereaved and solitary man, by speaking to him of his lost daughter, whose voice, he said, ought to speak to him from the deep, warning him to repent.

While Dr. Mathews was upon this subject the heart-broken father moaned and wept to such a degree that his visitor paused, and there was a long silence. Then Burr spoke as follows:

"You are doing nothing more than your duty, and I am the more pleased with you for doing it so fully. This is a new scene for me. You have opened fountains that have long been dry, and that, perhaps, I may have thought were dried up forever. It is true, it is true, judgments have followed me for years,judgments in every form, in the heaviest form, till I am left alone of all that loved me, as father or near relative. There is a desolation here," laying his hand on his heart, "that none but the Searcher of Hearts can understand."

Even these pathetic words did not induce the clergyman to spare him. He asked him if there was not something in the desolation of his own household which called to mind another household which his own hand had desolated.

Burr's eyes flashed fire, but the expression passed away in a moment, and he asked, with a tone and look of sorrow :—

"What would you have me do? How and where would you have me turn?"

The clergyman then urged him again to repentance; advised him to return, like the prodigal son, to attend church, and devote his future life to good works.

Col. Burr interrupted his visitor, and said: