OBITUARY.

DIED,

at Stamford, Connecticut, on the 8th of Feb. last, Miss THEODOSIA DAVENPORT, daughter of the Hon. John Davenport, having just completed the 21st. year of her age.

She was a bright and amiable example of early piety. Her great object in life seemed to be to walk worthy of her high vocation; and during her sickness she mani-' fested, in a striking manner, the consolations of the glorious Gospel of the blessed God. She fell a victim to the epidemic which prevailed in Stamford last winter. The common apprehensions of personal danger did not deter her from making every exertion in her power to alleviate the distresses of the sick and the dying, at whose beds she assiduously attended night and day. The first twenty days of her illness she passed without any specially alarming symptoms, and at the conclusion of this period appeared to be in a hopeful state of convalescence. Her friends congratulated her and each other on the prospect of her recovery; and united in expressing their gratitude to God, as also in supplicating him to perfect the good work he had graciously begun. In this state she continued for about two weeks, when, without any apparent cause, the fever returned with a violence which baffled every effort made for conquering it: and on the eighteenth day from the return of her fever, she died.

From the commencement of the second attack, she had an unvarying presentiment of its issue; and endeavoured to reconcile the feelings of her friends, as well as her own, to the idea of her approaching dissolution. For some part of the time her mind was somewhat deranged; but in general she was composed and collected, displaying the benevolence, as well as calmness of the Christian character.

On the morning of the day on which she died, her Pastor, the Rev. Mr. Smith, came to her bed-side, and told her-Theodosia, you are very low-we are all apprehensive for you. She replied, I am not apprehensive. Mr. S. asked, " You know then in whom you have believed?" She answered, with emphasis, " I do know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day. My hope is humble, but I trust it is sure. The Cross and Blood of my Redeemer are the grounds on which it rests." Her feebleness was so great that she could say but little. But her mind was so occupied with heavenly hopes, that the broken sentences of the promises on which she was meditating, and which she was pleading at the mercy-seat, could often be heard by those who observed her attentively.

Throughout the whole of this day she was composed and collected. The occasional deliria which had visited her previously, seemed entirely to depart, to give her an opportunity of uttering her dying testimony to the truth, and of addressing a farewell to her friends. A few hours before she expired, she addressed one of her brothers, telling him, she had long made it her prayer to God, that he should be made to know Jesus, and him crucified, and that she bade him farewell, with the comfortable hope that her prayers were not in vain. She called a little sister to her, and remarked that she had, with much pleasure, observed her attachment to the Bible; and added, Read, read it, my sister, it is the word of life-it is my support in a dying hour-let it be your guide in life, and it will be your support in death. Her eye happening to observe a servant girl, of her own age, passing through the room, she called her by name, and added, I wished to see you to bid you goodbye. Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, and he will never forsake you. To others of her friends she addressed advice equally suitable: and finding her weakness increasing, she bade them all adieu; and concluded with the following hymn of the vene. rable and apostolic Newton.

My soul, this curious house of clay,
Thy present frail abode,

Must quickly fall to worms a prey,

And thou return to God.

Canst thou, by faith, survey with joy,

The change before it come?

And say, "Let death this house destroy,
I have a heavenly home!"

The Saviour, whom I there shall see,.
With new admiring eyes,
Already has prepared for me,
A mansion in the skies*.

I feel this mud-wall cottage shake,
And long to see it fall;

That I my willing flight may take,

To Him who is my all.

Burden'd and groaning then no more,
My rescu'd soul shall sing,

As up the shining path I soar,
"Death thou hast lost thy sting."

Dear Saviour! help us now to seek,
And know thy grace's pow'r;

That we may all this language speak,
Before the dying hour.

The whole scene was peculiarly impressive and interesting. Life did not entirely cease till near evening, yet she was scarcely able to articulate through the greatest part of the day. While any degree of excitability remained, a mention of the Redeemer's name, and the glorious hopes of the Gospel, visibly brightened her

countenance.

In the several conversations her Pastor had with her, she assented with peculiar emphasis to all the doctrines which exalt God, humble the sinner, magnify the grace of the Gospel, and exhibit the love and compassion of the divine Redeemer.

Cor. vi. 1.

POETRY.

FOR THE CHRISTIAN'S MAGAZINE.

To the Editors of the Christian's Magazine,

The favourable reception which the Poetry I sent you for your last number met with, induces me to offer you the following from the same hand. It was addressed by the author to one of her female friends whose life had been marked with much affliction and continual trial, followed by a quick succession of bereavements of several of her dearest earthly friends.

A SUBSCRIBER.

CHILD of adversity! But Child of GOD!
Why sinks thy heart beneath affliction's rod?
Methinks thy heaven-born spirit should not grievé,
The surest marks of Sonship to receive;
Or, with impatient mind and sullen look,
Resist a tender parent's chast'ning stroke.

Has death, unwearied scourge of human race,
Drawn his pale lines across a parent's face?
Written thee-Orphan, in a world of wo,
Expos'd to all the stormy winds that blow?
Hast thou receiv'd a brother's latest sigh,
Or clos'd a lovely sister's fading eye?
Or hath he, envious of parental pride,
Ravish'd a blooming infant from thy side?
(Perhaps, with ruthless hand and sterner power,
Torn from the parent stalk the full-blown flow'r,)
Or broke the tie by fond Affection twin'd,
And a dear partner to the tomb consign'd?
Hath Disappointment torn thy aching breast?
Have friends forsaken thee, and foes opprest?
Hath wanton Malice blasted thy fair fame,
Inflicting sorrows thou canst never name?
Does pale Disease, with her attendant woes,
Darken thy day, and steal thy night's repose?

Doth Poverty, with all her ills, assail,
And ev'ry earthly spring of comfort fail?
Shall not the JUDGE of this rebellious earth,
Whose mighty fiat call'd the world to birth,

Who gave thee all the blessings thou hast known,
Each comfort yet possest, each treasure flown,-
Shall not this righteous JUDGE, with wise decree,
Do right with all his own-do right by thee?

Then count not o'er the sorrows thou hast borne,
How oft and deeply thou art call'd to mourn.
Christian! not one had been thy lot to prove,
Had not the SOURCE OF WISDOM AND OF LOVE
Seen it were best for thee. Could one been spar'd,
Celestial Spirits, Zion's constant guard,
Had warded the sharp arrow from thy breast,
Nor Death, nor Hell been suffer'd to molest.

Is thy name graven on IMMANUEL's heart?
In his rich merits dost thou hope a part?
Dost thou remember what his death has done,
For whom he suffered, and the prize he won?
And wilt thou think it hard to taste the cup,
And share with him who freely drank it up?
Ah! think how few the drops thy lips have known!
The bitter, bitter dregs were all his own!

Child of the Promises! dry up thy tears;
Fly to his cross with all thy cares and fears;
Beneath the droppings of his precious blood,
Lay down at once thy murm'rings and thy load

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

LIST OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

The New-England Patriot; being a candid comparison of the principles and conduct of the Washington and Jefferson administrations. The whole founded upon indisputable facts and public documents, to which reference is made in the text and notes. 66 Read, and disbelieve if you canBut read." Boston, Russell & Cutler.

Rosa, or American Genius and Education; a novel. New-York, I. Riley.

Kendall's Travels in the NewEngland States, 3 vols. 8vo. NewYork, I. Riley.

Henry's Travels in Canada, 8vo. New-York, I. Riley, $2 50 in boards.

Index to the Notes of Mr. Story's edition of Chitty on Bills. Prepared