November 21. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
these have been continued a few years, the same names 
appear, invariably, in the list of winners ; certainly not 
j without just merit on their side, but to the exclusion of 
i others. This state of things cannot well be altered ; but 
! the more general adoption of village or parochial exhi¬ 
bitions would tend to bring forward competitors that 
1 might, in turn, wrest the pri/o of excellence from 
| those who have occupied it so long; or if not, they would 
certainly spur the others on to a greater degree than 
would be done had they been allowed to rest on their 
oars. It is, therefore, highly advisable to encourage 
the formation of district societies, however humble may 
! be their means ; for by so doing, an impulse may be 
given to horticulture winch may be of great use to all 
concerned. 
If example be wanted of what may or can be done by 
such societies, it is only to refer back to some that 
existed thirty years ago, or more, when the culture of 
the Gooseberry, and some few fancy florist flowers were 
i shown, which we all know took more trouble to produce 
than many things that are now grown; and as we are 
told, that in other nations the national energy has not 
at all diminished during the last generation, I hope, that 
in a pursuit that only calls forth the better and brighter 
traits of human nature, there will be the same amount 
of indomitable perseverance, which, united with the in¬ 
telligence which sense and practice have both made 
familiar to every one, will enable some of our now 
neglected cottage gardeners to take fresh courage, and 
thrust in the spade with that determination, which, 
accompanied with other prudent management and vigi¬ 
lant attention, will, at the proper time, reap the reward 
that mother earth invariably affords to all that with 
real perseverance search for her treasures. 
J. Hobson. 
THE LAST STRUGGLES. 
By the Authoress of “My Flowers." 
(Continued from page 105.) 
The concluding scene of John Henry’s life is a melan¬ 
choly one. The veil dropped from his eyes in a very short 
time after obtaining the end for which he left friends, and 
home, and spiritual blessings; and the sad reality stood in 
all its hideousness before him. 
Mr. Johnstone’s words convey, with exquisite pathos, the 
end of his short and affecting life:—“Shortly after the 
receipt of the above letter” (contained in the last paper,) 
“ there was another to myself, but which, unfortunately, 
cannot, now be found. Although short, it was one of the 
most affecting letters that he wrote. It showed that a great 
change had taken place in his feelings respecting the place 
of his employment, and the people with whom he was 
obliged to hokl intercourse. His wages, it is true, had been 
raised; he had the prospect, too, of an increase of pay, and 
all, as regards his temporal circumstances, seemed to be 
everything he could wish. He had good health, full em¬ 
ployment, good wages, wholesome food. But his few 
months' residence were sufficient to discover to him, that 
‘ whilst the land was well watered, even as the garden of 
the Lord, the men were wicked, and sinners before the 
Lord exceedingly.’ He had discovered the distressing, 
painful fact, that while there was enough, and to spare, of 
the meat that perisheth, there was a famine in the land of 
a more fearful kind than the mere scarcity of bodily food— 
‘ a famine, not of bread, nor of a thirst for water, but of 
hearing the words of the Lord.’ There were no regular 
stated means of grace ; no Sabbath, no church, no minister. 
It is true, a minister visited at certain seasons, but these 
visits were more precarious, at long intervals between, and 
liable to frequent interruptions ; so that the sound of a 
preached Gospel seldom reached his ear during his resi¬ 
dence at G-. On his first arrival, he comforted himself 
with the hope, that in this respect matters would improve; 
but when he wrote this letter they were becoming worse: 
143 
the number of men employed in the establishment had been 
increased to 100, all of whom worked full time upon the 
Sabbath day. In writing Ibis, he added, ‘ The master has 
just been round, and told me, if I did not work on Sunday, 
like another, I might leave his employment; and he declared 
that he would have none about him that would not. I at 
once refused him, but how it will end, I know not.’” 
This was the severest test his decision of character, as a 
Christian, had been yet exposed to ; but through grace, his 
former fortitude and resolution remained. He was enabled 
to hold fast his integrity, and to maintain his testimony 
without wavering, to the end. For many months he bad 
stood out alone against the threats and persuasions of his 
employers, refusing to share in their Sunday gains, as well 
as in their Sunday labours. Many a coarse jest and cutting 
sneer had been passed upon him for being too religious. 
His righteous soul had been vexed, from day to day, in 
seeing and hearing their unlawful deeds; and when he 
wrote this, his last letter, “ his feet were almost gone, his 
treadings had well-nigh slipped,” his faith seemed about to 
give way, and in a tone almost bordering upon despair, 
he added,—“ Gpd only knows whether I shall be able to 
stand out much longer or not.” But He who is the Keeper 
of Israel, He, whose it is to keep His people “ through 
faith unto salvation,” kept him safe to the end. He who 
had been with the Hebrew children in the fiery furnace, 
even when it was heated seven times hotter than it was 
wont to be heated, was with him during all this fiery trial, 
and brought him through, unhurt and uninjured. In a 
short time deliverance came; sooner, but in a different 
manner from what might have been expected. In a few 
weeks after this letter was written, death came, and, like an 
angel of mercy, snapped off his chains, opened his prison 
door, and released his fettered soul from the bondage in 
which it had been kept, conducting him to that celestial 
city for which his heart so longed and panted, “ where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest;” 
where “the inhabitants shall no more say, I am sick;” 
where “ they shall behold the King in his beauty; and see 
Him face to face, no cloud between.” 
The letter conveying the intelligence of poor John Henry’s 
death, the only intelligence of him that reached his relations, 
is short and meagre; but it bore, nevertheless, comfortable 
assurance as to his eternal state : 
“July 8th, 1851. 
“ I am sorry to inform Mr. Henry, of Drumnnmalta, of 
the death of his son John, about four months ago. . . . 
He died in Mr. -’s employment on the C- river, 
nearly 300 miles from Sidney. It was yesterday I had an 
answer from Mr.-, informing me that he died of the 
dropsy, and that he had been three weeks ill previous ; 
also that he left no will or commands how his property was 
to be arranged. In order for any one to get it, they must 
administer, and the expenses will be very great. But I 
heard since, that the Rev. Mr. S-is going to take it into 
his own hands, and that his father would have to send the 
power of an attorney; but Dr. S- will tell them how 
to act. 
“ I have seen a man tlias was with John when he died; 
he died happy and contented ; washed in the blood of Jesus, 
and having a desire to depart, and be with Christ, which is 
far better. William Irwin." 
After the wear and tear, the strivings and labourings of 
life, how abrupt and brief seems the closing scene ! and how 
few are the words necessary to record it! 
Poor John Henry reads us a lesson, readers, from his 
distant and lonely tomb. He quitted his native land in 
hopes of bettering his worldly condition; but he found 
spiritual destitution, and weariness of soul. Alone, among 
the heathen, what were money, and fulness of bread to him? 
Many and deep must the sighs have been that he sent back 
over the broad ocean to his family, his beloved spiritual 
father, and the saints from whose communion he had severed 
himself; and mournful must have been the prospect before 
him as he struggled among the evil spirits and sabbath- 
breakers, with whom he dwelt and laboured. Yet he was 
a child of God; and as such he was taken away from the evil 
to come. A few days illness only was laid upon him; his 
sorrows and troubles were ended; and, like Enoch, “ he was 
not: for God took him.” The believer's short-comings and 
