tion, is unaccountable. It must not, however, be supposed, that she be came in any sense dissipated. Public and family worship were not omitted; but her manners became cold and stately, and she was now not frequently seen associating with those who had no other distinctions than their piety and humility. The loss of such companions was ill supplied by an intercourse with persons of all others the most dangerous for, herself not the gay and insignificant, but grave antiquated people of fashion, well bred, well informed, dignified, authoritative, and fascinating, yet of habits and conversation little calculated to elevate the mind above the affairs of this life. What passed within-whether her thoughts were less frequently directed towards heaven, whether her petitions to the Throne of Grace were less ardent and undivided-can be known only to that Being who seeth in secret; but that she lost much ground about this time, cannot be doubted. From these, or other causes, ber heavenly-mindedness was already in the wane, when the birth of children called forth new affections and new trials. They were unhealthy, and she idolized them. Her care for them, her anxiety through long and sleepless nights, shook her nerves and absorbed her thoughts in a degree wholly inconsistent with her own spiritual welfare she seemed to forget every duty except that of watching over her servants and nurses, who, as she placed no confidence in them, only tended to increase her perplexity. She appeared to take the lives of her children wholly into her own hands, and wore herself out by insessant and unavailing agitation. To this unchastened parental anxiety succeeded great irritability of temper, and a state of mind always bordering upon asperity. That amiable willingness to listen to the inquiries of persons less instructed than herself, in the hope of giving a right direction to their feeble endeavours, gradually disappeared. They were They were

repelled by a cold reception; and when they had retired disappointed and mortified, she generally took occasion to acquit herself of all unkindness in this respect, by adverting to the importance of her time, and the pressure of her family affairs. Oh! how changed from her, who once possessed in a pre-eminent degree the art of making time, whenever she saw the slightest probabi→ lity of promoting the glory of God; and whose penetrating eye had been accustomed to discover in every acquaintance some mode of approach, some hopeful ground on which towork. Yet, amidst all this, there was the same expressed desire to attend the preaching of the Gospel, the same stated observance of family devotion, and even the same peculiar eloquence in prayer; but spiritual pride and stern self-sufficiency had taken the place of humility and affection. The change was seen and felt by her family, and was once, upon a suitable opportunity, adverted to with studied caution and gentleness. The wellmeant intimation was, however, received with high astonishment, and thrown back with indignation as a cruel insult. She seemed now to think herself incapable of error. Her family could only observe and be silent: they were confounded. Her conversation in her domestic circle was no longer of a nature to give pleasure, except when her fine understanding was brought into exercise by some peculiar topic that challenged its powers: on other occasions, a peevish, dissatisfied, and censorious spirit, too generally manifested itself. In about five years from the time of her marriage, symptoms of consumption began to appear; and her friends, who loved her, naturally ascribed a large portion of the asperity of her temper to the latent seeds of that disorder. It is certainly not improbable, that the immediate cause of much of that asperity may be found in the actual state of her bodily health; but it is to be recollected, that the mere operation of natural causes explains the

phenomena of man only in his natural state. Nothing can be more dangerous, than attempts to get rid of all responsibility by referring to the peculiar affections of the body. It will be seen in the sequel, that a period did arrive, when the subject of this narrative would have shuddered at the thought of any such mode of escaping from the hard duty of self-humiliation and reproof; when, in the midst of aggravated sufferings, she became calm, and the Christian temper rose superior to all corporeal irritation. From her own house she was in a few months removed to the Hot Wells, without any hopes of her recovery; yet she still continued to display the same petu lant, unaniable frame of mind; wasting her feeble strength in giving uncalled-for directions respecting her children or the ordinary business of her family; and tenaciously refusing to delegate any of these unimportant matters to a near connection, who met her at the Wells with an anxious desire of relieving her from all temporal cares. Every kind offer was declined with an air of studied politeness approaching to dislike. She still insisted upon superintending every thing herself, and dissipated her thoughts about family matters, while her surrounding friends could think of nothing but her approaching dissolution. Not a word escaped her of Christian admonition to those around her, not a word respecting her own spiritual condition. An amiable relative, anxious to be informed as to her future hopes, and uneasy at her silence, ventured to touch upon this important subject. The reply was abrupt and unsatisfactory, and was even followed by a complaint of being catechized. Such was the actual condition of a dying woman, whom her family gazed upon with inward feelings of unutterable anguish, while her more distant friends were celebrating her as a pattern of wisdom and piety. The dreadful secret of her real condition could be known only to those who lived with her.

Of visitors, family avocations and in health had long excluded the greater part; and of those particular friends who were admitted, as they could only judge from her conversation in short occasional visits, it was natural that they should think highly of her attainments, and even of her humility. For no one more readily admitted, in general terms, the utter depravity of our fallen nature: it was only when some particular error in her own conduct was glanced at, that her pride revolted. It was now morally certain that her dissolution was near at hand, and, to suffer her to die without some effort to awaken her to a real sense of her condition, was dreadful; yet, in her then debilitated and highly irritable state, the attempt was hazardous. She herself, however, furnished the wished-for opportunity, by inquiring of her brother whether any thing in her conduct caused him disquietude or dissatisfaction; from which it appeared that she had observed in him a considerable degree of uneasiness. He told her frankly, that he suffered great disquietude on her account, and that the same disquietude was felt by all the other members of her family. He then adverted to the unhappy change in her temper of mind, which they had long witnessed and deplored, and the little evidence they had that her thoughts were even then directed to Heaven. She looked astonished, and became violently agitated: she declared herself to be quite unconscious of any alteration in her conduct, and appealed to the general estimation in which she was held. Her brother then found himself compelled to enter into rather a detailed examination of her later habits and disposition; but his observations were received as cruel and unmerited reproaches, and it became necessary to put an end to the conversation. He concluded, however, by entreating her to consider how much she hazarded in resting upon her own judgment, in her own cause, against the concurrent opinion of all who

hour. From this time her life was mercifully prolonged about ten days, during which, the mighty change that had been wrought in her mind became more and more strongly marked. Of her bodily sufferings, though undoubtedly very severe, she spoke as unworthy of her attention, and never adverted to them except when some question was put to her. Every word breathed forth the sentiments of gratitude, humility, and love. She charged her friends to take especial care that no opiates were given to her, whatever bodily pain she might be subjected to upon the nearer approach of death, lest her, mind should be unfitted for those exercises of prayer and praise which now constituted her sole employment. "And oh !" she added, with a look of singular feeling, if my reason should be taken from me, as sometimes happens before death, let me earnestly entreat you to pray for me, that no unhallowed expression may escape my lips." She dwelt much upon the efficacy of prayer, and heavily reproached herself for having permitted family duties and temporal cares to usurp the first place in her thoughts. She expressed her conviction that she should better have acquitted herself, as the mother of a family, if she had kept her anxieties in due subordination; and spoke of family cares, when so misplaced as to interfere with the interests of eternity, as fit only to be classed with temptations, so much the more daugerous as coming in the plausi ble guise of duty. She was now so entirely raised above all impatience of bodily pain, that, in the evening of one of these days, she said to her brother, I should be sorry to give unnecessary trouble, but I think, if Dr. were here, he might perhaps suggest something that would give a little relief, for I must now let you know, that my mouth has given me considerable uneasiness ever since the morning-I suppose it is the thrush." He immediately looked at her mouth, and the whole appeared to be covered with ulcera

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tion. As her fever and cough seldom permitted her to sleep, she continued her petitions to the Throne of Mercy almost without cessation, and it was evident that the grace of God was with her. She became more deeply contrite, more alive to her own unworthiness, yet more assured. Her countenance, her manner, and at length her tongue, proclaimed the inward satisfaction which she now felt. "Oh," she exclaimed, "what a sinner! and what a Saviour! I have not power enough to wonder and adore. The Lord imparts what I cannot describe. Gracious Lord! He is merciful! It is unbounded! Oh that I had a voice like thunder to proclaim his goodness!" She looked tenderly at her sister-in-law, and said to her, "we are more than sisters-sisters in Christ!-what an union! never to be dissolved!" Early on the Tuesday morning preceding her departure, she conceived herself to be dying, and her friends assembled round her bed. She looked at them with an heavenly smile, and said, "if this is dying, may you all die! I feel an inward joy, an assured hope, a hope which I cannot express. Oh! what extended, what boundless mercy, to me, the worst of sinners! If I am washed in the blood of Jesus, who may not hope? His grace, his mercy, is great beyond what I have language to declare."

Shortly after this, the Rev. Dr. B-- came in to pray with her, and to him she reiterated the same expressions of humility and joy." It is," she said, "but within these few days that the Lord has shewn me to myself as I really am. My brother has pointed out to me many great falls which I had overlooked: this has been very instrumental in bringing me to a clearer sense of my own unworthiness. I owe much to him for his admonitions, and much to you, Dr. B-, for your prayers. I trust you will all follow whither I am going-going through unspeakable mercy! Oh, inscribe the name of Jesus in large characters upon your hearts! And remember

this all of you; I have only told you half the inward comfort that I now experience-I cannot tell you all-language fails me." Then, looking at Dr. B—, she said, "I see nothing, Doctor, but my Saviour -my sins are covered. It is true the tempter is even now busy; but strength is increased to me upon everyattack. I seem to gain by them." In the course of the morning the symptoms of immediate dissolution disappeared, and she took an opportunity of suggesting something which she considered of great importance to the spiritual welfare of a particular member of her family, and then said, "This is the wish of my heart; and having expressed it, let me now for ever dismiss every worldly thought, and occupy my self with my Redeemer. For my children, I have no other wish than that they may fear the Lord: their temporal circumstances are immaterial. Our eldest boy has been wonderfully preserved to us-may he be a Samuel!" To her husband she said, "I can truly say, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace; yet I am willing to remain, if it be to the glory of his name." At another time she said to him, "My conscience becomes more and more tender: I feel so great a dread of sin, and while I remain I am still so liable to return to it again, that you must pray for me, that I may be preserved from every temptation by which I might be led to grieve his Holy Spirit." Finding great difficulty of breathing on the Saturday before her death, she looked at her husband, and said, "Ah, my husband! only a short conflict, and then no more pain, no more sorrow! I am now unable eveu to clean my teeth, which require it very much, on account of the soreness of my mouth. These things should humble, and convince us of the folly of having been vain of our frail bodies, which may so easily become disgusting; but they no longer affect me in any other way, if my friends can put up with me."

She

The next morning, being Sunday, in answer to her brother's inquiries, she said, "I am at present wonderfully easy in body, and happy, happy in mind. I dose frequently, and get some sleep; but I grudge it: I wish to be awake, to contemplate my Saviour." In the evening of that day her family assembled round her bed, as usual, for the purpose of joining with her in prayer; and being conscious that her time was at no great distance, she took an affectionate leave of every one, with a calin and placid countenance, as if uncertain whether she should ever behold them more. After they had all left the room except her husband, she took both his hands, and said, "Oh my dear husband! what unspeakable. what inward joy and comfort do I now possess! it is solid, well founded, calm, not tumultuous." then desired that her two female attendants might lie down in another part of the room, and go to sleep. Her husband objected to this, and requested that she would permit them to relieve each other in sitting by her, as it was necessary to keep her constantly in almost an erect posture. She replied, "Oh no; let them rather take their rest: you must not be anxious for me, my dear husband; do you commit me to the keeping of my Saviour, as I have committed myself, and be satisfied." But on his continuing to urge his request, she assented, and said, "If it will relieve your mind, it is well;" and then she gave some directions to the servants respecting the laying out of her person, adding, "I mention these things now, to prevent unnecessary confusion and hurry when the event happens." Her husband then retired, having first obtained her promise that she would send for him immediately, if she found herself worse: she was, however, surprised by a sudden attack about midnight, and one of the servants called him. The phlegm which had occasioned ber distress being removed, her re