Frankey's tender heart caught at the objection in a moment. With a pained and anxious look he set his eyes upon Dan'el. 'It do, my dear Leader, it do seem cruel to doubt Him.-An' so it is too. Go on, my dear Lender.' And Frankey waited eagerly for this difficulty to be cleared.

I don't know if John thought o' what I did, Frankey. It came to my mind directly. If He is so loving an' humble as to carry my sins, I'm quite sure He won't refuse to carry my doubts too. "Blessed Jesus," I said, "if Thou dost love me so well as to bear my curse, Thou wilt bear my doubts too."

'Bless Him,' cried Frankey, as the light broke, with tears of joy. 'Of course, my dear Leader, of course : so He will, bless Him; I'm sure He will.' Again Dan'el turned to the Bible, the trusty forefinger guiding his eye as he read on:

'Go and show John again those things which ye do hear and see. Look, Frankey, the Blessed Jesus wasn't angry with him for sendin' his disciples and askin' that question. Surely that there promise was meant for

poor doubtin' folks: "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not." He never scolds His poor ignorant scholars, though they come asking troublesome and foolish questions that they ought to have known years ago. Ah, the Blessed Jesus is the One to send our doubts to! Why, I shouldn't wonder but Nicodemus would have said that "he was quite surprised, he was, that the Baptist after preaching to other people should come to be amongst the doubters himself." An' Simon would have spoken out quite sharp to his old Master. An' John, who

hadn't got the blessin' o' perfect love then, would have flushed up like he did against the Samaritans. I know a good many folks to-day, if you were to send your doubts to them, they'd send back a message that we ought to be ashamed of ourselves, goin' arguin', an' reasonin', an' doubtin'. Ah, Frankey, that isn't like the Blessed Lord Jesus. Seemin' to me as if so soon as ever He got the message He would be sure to think-" Poor, faithful John, thou'rt in the dungeon, cast down and tempted. I will comfort thee and strengthen thy faith." He didn't say, Go, tell John to believe." No; the blessed Lord gave him something for his faith to take hold of, and for it to hold on to.'

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Dan'el turned over the pages of the Bible until he came to the seventh chapter of Luke. He read from the twenty-first verse: "And in that same hour He cured many of their infirmities and plagues, and of evil spirits; and unto many that were blind He gave sight. Then Jesus answering said unto them, Go your way, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard." That is the Blessed One to send our doubts to, Frankey. That same hour He will work a hundred miracles to hush our fears and gladden our hearts.'

The light touched Frankey's face again. Bless Him,' he whispered, 'He is a gracious and pitiful Saviour -bless Him.'

'I wonder what the things were that He said to them,' Dan'el went on. 'I should dearly like to have been there that day it must have been very gentle and comfortin', Frankey-balm for poor John's wounds. I can't help fancyin' that a wonderful tenderness like came over the heart of Jesus, tender-hearted as He always was. You see He keeps on talkin' about John for a long time after, and finishes it all up with a'most the tenderest words He ever

spoke Come unto ME, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest!'

'Bless Him,' whispered Frankey again.

He

Ah, yes, Frankey, thou may'st well bless Him, thou may'st. cares for thee every bit so much as for John the Baptist. Thou ben't no such great man as he was, Frankey, but mind what Jesus said: He that is least in the Kingdom of Heaven is greater than he. But I was sayin' that seemin' to me like as if the thought of poor John was in the heart of Jesus for a long time. Tis just the same as if He was inviting poor timid folks to come and ask Him all about the things that puzzled them. Learn of Me, He says; for I am meek and lowly in heart. Meek-you see, Frankey, the Blessed Jesus won't lose His temper because we don't understand the lesson quicker or learn it better. Meek and lowly in heart. He'll take the infant class, and be patient with the most troublesome of 'em an' make it all plain to the stupidest. Ye shall find rest unto your souls.'

"Tis true, my dear Leader, every word, bless Him. I do love Him for it, sure 'nough.' And the glow of bis face and the hands clasped again in rapture told that the tempter had left him for a season,' at least.

Dan'el shut up the Bible and rose for prayer with the sick man. Then as if the thought flashed across him, he stayed a moment. There is one thing more, Frankey, that I meant to say, too. I was thinkin' of it the other day as I was hammerin' away at my work when 'twas dismal an' rainy. The promises are just the same 'pon dull days as 'pon fine shiny ones, every bit, and do hold just so good as ever. The Bank o' Heaven isn't broke because the sun is clouded up a bit. Though we do get cast down, and though the devil do hale us off to the dungeon, an' tell us that we

shall never get out no more, bless 'ee, Frankey, he's an ould liar, and you can never believe a word he do say.'

'He is, my dear Leader. I do know that much about 'un.'

'Bless 'ee, we shall get out again, Frankey. He do know we shall. He can't help the sunshine a-comin' through the iron gratin'; and we cry out like David: "Hope thou in God : for I shall yet praise Him, Who is the health of my countenance, and my God." Then seemin' to me as if the Blessed Lord, Who lets the sighin' o' the prisoner come before Him, knows the voice of His child in there, and He knocks at the prison door directly, and bids the old gaoler bring out and deliver the soul that he dared to shut up. "The Lord looseth the prisoners.'

'O Lord, thou art my Lord,' cried Frankey, 'my Lord!'

'You know, Frankey, when Jesus was born there was the glory o' the Lord streamin' down and the heavenly host singin'. 'Twas all light and music. But very soon the light died out, and the music died away; but the Blessed Jesus was there still. And Joseph an' Mary had to get up and go away out in the dark night, out in the cold winds an' the bitter rains, to Egypt. But for all it was so dark and cold, the young child was in the mother's arms. An' I expect, Frankey, that every time there came a very cold blast Mary pressed Him in all the closer to her heart, an' when she fancied she heard the soldiers shouting she put her arms about Him more tenderly than ever. Iss, Frankey, the light an' music may go, but Jesus won't. An' the cold an' dark an' the old enemy, why, they only make Him nearer an' dearer than ever. 'Tis only when we do come to the prison or like that, that we know how good and how lovin' He is. When we're walkin' about in the garden o' the Lord, He doesn't speak to us then

It seems but simple justice that the learned printer and author, at whose office and under whose skilful superintendence this Magazine was put to press for thirty-one years, should find a place amongst the Methodist Writers whose history, character and labours we have undertaken to sketch, in the periodical with which his name was so long and so honourably associated, and of whose most distinguished editors (a consummate editor himself) he was the cherished friend and the trusted counsellor. And what can be more fitting than that the erudite translator and annotator of the Works of Arminius, and the careful delineator of original and unsophisticated Arminianism in contrast with Calvinism (in his great work, Calvinism and Arminianism Compared), should receive some appreciative commemoration in the periodical which is the lineal successor to the venerable Arminian Magazine?

JAMES NICHOLS was born at Washington, amidst the collieries of Durham, in April, 1785. His mother was the daughter of William Hunter, one of the most devoted of the Early Methodist Preachers, for many years a happy possessor of that

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perfect love which casteth out fear." (Obituary, in Minutes

for

1798.) Being asked to choose the text for his own funeral sermon, he named, 'I have fought a good fight, etc.; and his dying testimony was, 'I have no fear; my whole heart is devoted to God. Offer me up to God in prayer. Pray and praise!' His last earthly act was to bless the children present and exhort them to seek the Lord.' His most helpful description of the Method of Obtaining Purity was subjoined to his Memoir in this Magazine for January, 1798.

Whilst James was yet very young, his father, a wharfinger, migrated to Bradford, in Yorkshire, where he attended the ministry of the widelyknown Methodistic Vicar, the Rev. John Crosse. From this venerable man little James received direct religious attention, instruction and encouragement. But his father, not succeeding at Bradford, removed to Leeds, where poverty compelled him to send his son, only eight years of age, to earn his oatcake and help to pay for his lowly lodging by working as a 'piecer' at a factory in Holbeck. At this unwholesome indoor drudgery the tiny breadwinner continued four years. It was here that he began to weave the rich substantial texture of his scholarship. Fixing a Latin

Grammar against the framework at which he was employed, he spent every spare moment in eager selftuition. Here also he learnt other lessons and acquired other habits which were of life-long service: those of early rising, strict economy and rigid simplicity of diet. When, however, he had reached the age of twelve, his father's circumstances beginning to improve, he was sent to the Free Grammar School in Leeds, which, at that time, enjoyed a high reputation through the brilliant Cambridge career of two of its alumni, the brothers Joseph and Isaac Milner, the sons of a handloom weaver. Isaac was Senior Wrangler; was chosen to accompany Pitt and Wilberforce on the grand tour; filled the chair of Mathematics which Barrow and Sir Isaac Newton had elevated into a throne; and, taking orders, was made Dean of Carlisle ; his avowed and active evangelical principles alone excluding him from the Episcopal bench.

Assuredly the little self-training factory-lad was no typical schoolno typical schoolboy, creeping, like snail, unwillingly to school, but his 'shiny morningface' was lit up with enthusiasm as, instead of pattering patiently and breakfast less through the dingy suburb to the mill,' blue-fingered and blue-faced, he now tripped off some hours later in the day to the timehaloed place of learning, and could lay open his 'Accidence' upon a desk and have a tutor to tell him how to pro

nounce the sonorous Latin of his Propria quæ maribus. His mind was like a spring-flower which has long been struggling under the snow to form its buds, which, when the snow is gone and the sunshine felt, puts forth its sprays luxuriantly and blossoms blithely under the blue heaven. He made swift, sure progress on all the lines of GrammarSchool education, and soon reputation for exceptional ability and

won a

industry and, of course, as exceptional proficiency. The curriculum being adjusted rather to the Cambridge than the Oxford model, he was grounded in Mathematics as well as in Classics; and, on leaving school, obtained a situation as privatetutor in the family of a country gentleman named Leake.

Meanwhile his spiritual training had kept pace with his secular education. His father had joined the Class of Mr. Sigston, a provincial pedagogue of no slight local celebrity, and the son had united himself with the little company that were pressing toward the mark of Christian perfection. under the leadership of Mr. Marsden, a draper in Briggate. At first James. Nichols was fired with the ambition of winning a Cambridge exhibition, taking orders in the Established Church, and following in the wake of his fellow-townsmen the Milners. But he was dissuaded from this course by the Rev. John Gaulter, then stationed in Leeds, who succeeded in convincing him that the spiritual privileges he must relinquish by leaving Methodism would more than outweigh any social and scholastic advantages he might secure by accepting episcopal ordi

nation.

He married a young lady from his native county, Miss Bursey, daughter of a worthy Methodist glover of Stockton-on-Tees; and opened a shop in Briggate, the leading thoroughfare of Leeds, as printer

and bookseller. The venerable Thomas Jackson, in his Recollections of My Own Life and Times, has, under date 1808, the following record:

'Soon after my arrival in Leeds, I formed an intimate acquaintance with Mr. James Nichols. We were nearly of the same age; our tempers and tastes were alike; our theological and political views coincided; to a great extent our studies were directed to the same objects; and I know not that our esteem and affection for

each other suffered either interruption or abatement for more than fifty years. Pleasant is the retrospect of the many hours I spent in listening to his cheerful and intelligent conversation.'

The

Mr. Nichols was then twenty-three years of age. In 1813, he printed the Report of the first, the constituent Meeting of the Wesleyan-Methodist Missionary Society. In January, 1814, the enterprising young printer started a six-shilling periodical, entitled The Leeds Correspondent, a Literary, Mathematical and Philosophical Miscellany. Printed by and for James Nichols, Leeds, and sold in London by Longman, etc. object of this spirited serial was to make Leeds a scientific as well as an industrial centre, and so to focus the intelligence of middle-class schools as to bring it to bear on skilled artisans. In this respect it anticipated the enterprise of Lord Brougham, Dr. Birkbeck and other philanthropists. Its main means of accomplishing this object was the starting and the solving of 'hard questions; ' 'Philosophical and Grammatical queries; Questions in Arithmetic, Algebra and Geometry; Mathematical Questions.' (Preface to first number.) In short, it was a contrivance for making the little shop in Briggate a sort of scientific sensorium for all the country round, a rendezvous where the untravelled English Sheba-Queens might test the wisdom of the crownless British Solomons. The selection of Leeds as the trysting-place of scientific enquiry and solution was vindicated on the ground that

'Leeds and the towns adjacent to it are fruitful in genius and abound with intelligent cultivators of the sciences. Many of the inhabitants of these towns have long been bountiful contributors to works of deserved celebrity. In the West Riding of Yorkshire the vast population is generally well-informed. Within its boundaries are many gentlemen to whom, from their long acquaintance with literature in its widest acceptation, composition, etc....

many in humbler life, otherwise the favourites of heaven, in the excellent yet uncultivated endowments of the mind, who feel a diffidence in communicating their ideas on any subject, from a lack of facility in their expressions and of gracefulness in their style; many junior aspi rants after learned celebrity who sometimes try their ripening powers....many of the fair sex...of high mental capabili ties, etc.' (Preface.)

But the gathering-ground of this reservoir of original intellectual effusion was far from being limited to the West Riding. Questions deep and answers deeper still came from almost the uttermost parts of the island, Reading and Plymouth being amongst the most copious fountains of supply. This was no ignoble enterprise, either as to aim or success. Not only all the great Yorkshire towns, but London, Manchester, Liverpool, Stafford, etc., entered the lists of literary rivalry.

North

umberland and Devonshire found an arena in which they could meet in a fair intellectual wrestling-match; Penrith and Plymouth were united in scientific sympathy; Nottingham and Canterbury alternately puzzled and enlightened each other; and Hereford and Hexham, like Tennyson's Christmas bells, answered each other through the mist,' metaphysical or mathematical. Here, too, the ill-paid usher met the scientific baronet on equal terms. One of the ablest contributors, or rather competitors, was (not yet the Reverend) Jonathan Crowther, then a young master at Woodhouse Grove, who was thus unconsciously training for the Classical and Mathematical Tutorship at the then undreamed of Wesleyan Theological Institution. Young ladies were not excluded from the amicable contest. Preachers' daughters, more than half a century before our Clapton and Southport Schools were thought of strove gallantly for mental mastery, and Miss Mary West, of