hoping to be able to give better accounts of myself, but the Lord has decided otherwise. Since my letter to M. Dumont, last August, I have gradually become weaker, having frequently been confined to my bed all day; and have at least been obliged to give up my rides on an ass, to which I had recourse when no longer able to walk.

In all probability I shall not have much more to do with the waters of Plombières; yet I know not when I shall be able to leave the place, for I am but ill able to travel, and I am also very unwilling to leave the only physician in whom I really feel confidence; and who having now for some time carefully studied my case, might perhaps with the blessing of God be of use to me. Besides, I here enjoy a quietness which in my present weak state is absolutely necessary. To this great weakness may probably in part be ascribed the degree of patience with which I support my present total inactivity; suffering little, sleeping little, being almost unable to eat, drink, read, write, walk, or even reflect for long together; in short, being incapable of supporting the least fatigue. When I compare this passive state, with my former active life, I almost wonder at my tranquillity. Thank God, however, I bear up tolerably well; and am seldom melancholy; in that respect indeed I have been much worse than I am now.

At some periods of this my long leisure, my heart and mind wander into Dauphinè. It is not without much emotion that I find myself in imagination once more in those places where I have enjoyed so many pleasurable emotions; where I have sighed for the conversion of sinners; and where I have been surrounded by precious souls hungering and thirsting for the word of life. I traverse in idea those valleys, mountains, and passes, along which I have so often travelled alone or with my friends. I revisit the huts and stables, where I have conversed of heavenly

things with those who are dear to me in Christ Jesus. I fancy I see them all, I listen to them, I speak to them. At such times I feel a return of all those sentiments which then animated me, and as in former days, I lift up my soul to the Father of lights, and pray for his beloved sheep.

'In the course of these retrospective reveries, I sometimes behold the images of the departed; and though I am tempted to sigh for their loss, I speedily bless God on their behalf, rejoicing that they are safe from trouble and from sin. These recollections are also accompanied by the deeply humbling conviction that if I am now deprived of the power of actively serving Christ, I have well deserved it. These thoughts, sad as they are, are nevertheless most salutary, and I should be very wrong were I to endeavour to stifle them.

'But the most melancholy part of the picture, is the recollection of those who died in the wilderness; who after having quitted Egypt, returned there again in their hearts, not having the courage to go up and possess the good country.' How many alas, do I remember amongst you, who for a time seemed to have renounced the world, but who became weary of the narrow way, lost sight of the wrath to come, and forgot at once God's threatenings and promises.

'But what must I say of those who have brought forth fruit; who have even been the means of leading others to the truth; and who have yet by their subsequent conduct grieved the Holy Spirit of God, by whom they appeared to have been sanctified? Their number is certainly few, but why should there be any such? It is true that "offences must come," but "woe to that man by whom the offence cometh."

'But woe unto us also, if these terrible examples do not humble us, and make us redouble our own vigilance, leading us to watchfulness, prayer, and self-mistrust. But let us have full confidence in

Jesus, and keep close to him; then we shall be safe. Remember his own words; "Abide in me." It is not given to any creature to have life in itself. It is only in proportion as Christ dwells in us, and we in him, that we have any real life in us.

'Does not every day's experience teach us, that a mere profession of faith brings with it neither strength nor peace. For if while we call ourselves Christians, our hearts remain at a distance from Christ, we still remain in the same feeble, unstable, worldly and unhappy state as those who never knew him or heard his name.

'If in the long intervals between our seasons of meditation and prayer, we preserved in our minds a lively impression of our devotional feelings, these seasons would surely not be so rare. But those are times of communion between God and the spiritual man, and its subjects are such as the natural man soon forgets; retaining only a sense of the difficulties that lie in bis path.

'When we are at a distance from God, we are at a loss to understand the value of communion with him; we form false notions of it; and consequently cannot participate in those holy words and songs of praise, in which we have ourselves joined in happier moments. On the other hand, when we are with the Lord, we cannot conceive it possible to live without him, nor how we could ever have separated ourselves from him. We then cannot understand how a Christian can ever complain, in whatever situation he may be placed; how we can ever be discouraged or attached to the world, and the present life. Let us, my beloved friends, live in him, and abide in him. He is the bread of life; whosoever eateth of this bread shall never hunger. May God bless these few words to all your souls, and quicken you in his love. Your affectionate brother,

F. N.'

To some young people at Dormilleuse.

6

'MY DEAR CHILDREN,

Plombières, Oct. 21, 1828.

"Though I cannot write much, yet I must assure you with my own hand, how much pleasure your letters have given me, how grateful I am for your affection; and above all, how much I rejoice to find that our blessed Saviour still continues to bestow upon you his gracious help and favour. May you more and more be strengthened in his love, and shine as lights in the world. May many more of those around you arrive at the precious knowledge of this great salvation, and flee from the wrath to come.

'You perhaps know that our dear Alexander Vallon of Champsaur has been dead some time. His loss has deeply grieved me, for I had a great affection for him, and he was a faithful soul. Let us watch and pray, for we know not when the Bridegroom cometh.

'Remember me to all my dear friends; tell them how earnestly I pray God to prosper the growth of that seed in their souls, which too many, alas! have received by the way-side, or among the thorns.

'Adieu, my dear friends. May God bless and keep you. May he be your rock, your peace, your sole and only hope. Amen.'

Neff left Plombières, Oct. 29. It will easily be believed, that to one in his weak state, a journey in November would be very dangerous. He arrived wrapped up in flannels like an old man, nor had any one but himself the least hope of his recovery.

CHAPTER XIV.

Return of Neff to Geneva-His latter days and death— Conclusion-From Nov. 1, 1828, to April 12, 1829.

THROUGHOUT the course of his life, we have constantly seen Neff by turns applying his mind to different subjects, and always with the degree of judgment adapted to the object. This last period of his life opens with a letter which we are unwilling to suppress, since it so plainly shows the poverty both of the Missionary and his churches.

To John Phillips.

Geneva, Dec. 26, 1828. 'It is now quite time to renew the subscriptions for the Archives, &c. I have not yet been able to learn whether M. Ehrmann took charge of them this year, nor yet whether there have been any subscriptions in Queyras. It was I who solicited them a year ago for all the churches of the High Alps; and if M. Servier has not yet been paid, application will be made to me; pray then, my dear friend, inquire particularly what subscriptions there have been in Queyras this year; and if they have not been paid, do let me know the amount. Pray inquire too, if any one at Arvieux, Mollines, or Saint Vèran, wish to subscribe for next year; and if M. Ehrmann will