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ritual insensibility; from disgust of the present life, | marked with similar calm complacency as before or from disbelief of a world to come; from pre.umptive delusion, or from unbending pride. Hume aspired to die well; he knew that the eyes of the world were turned on the close of his erratic course with fixed attention; and his utter heartlessness to the claims of this life, his daring skepticism on all beyond it, his cherished vanity as the leader of a false philosophy, combined to fit him for acting well his part. But his principles carried him too far; and the example he meant to commend by them has branded them with indelible disgrace. They had taught him that death itself "is only turning the current of a few ounces of blood," and that all beyond death is oblivion; and they had so paralyzed all the moral perceptions and energies, that he became, on his own assumptions, a miserable driveller, where he wished to be the extolled philosopher.

our parting. I soon observed, indeed, that the expressions of love to the members of the family, though quite as powerful, were frequently not so unconstrained and easy as was habitual to her. Sometimes she would receive the winning atten tions of the children with a tremor or a tear; and to us there was in her attachment something more tender and heavenly; but these variations failed to supply me with a key to their origin. They had this tendency the less, as Martha appeared to us decidedly better. The rosy hues of health sat firmer on her cheek, the light of life sparkled fuller in her eye, and she was disposed, by uttering the language of hope, to raise our gratification. Like her, I was disposed to speak of hope, for circumstances seemed to warrant it more than they had done for some time; but, unlike her, I was not at all in a state of preparation for these hopes being reversed.

Philosophy herself, uncertain and feeble as are her lights, would have taught him to be serious Martha continued in her usual state over the sewhile standing on the verge of existence; but se-cond Sabbath in November; and, though a long riousness might have been construed into sadness; winter was closing in around us, her mind seemed and that the spectators might have no doubt of the to receive no impression from it. On that Sabbath actor's happiness, he proceeded to titter and to trifle. her sister, Mrs. R., happened to be detained by inTo titter and to trifle!-with the silliness of a little disposition, and they passed it together. Martha child that plays with the cockatrice, or smiles on appeared peculiarly to enjoy the day. In the eventhe events which are charged with its ruin! ing they read largely in "Edwards on the Affections." The subject was, the evidences of the Christian character; she entered most fully into it, and spoke with more freedom than she had ever done, of the connection of those evidences with her personal experience. The subject grew in her hands; while she communed with her friend the fire burned; and, with an eminent unction, she dilated on the method of redemption and the glories of an unseen world. The time sped hastily away; the family met around her bed; the prayer was of fered; the evening hymn was sung; and Martha parted from the several members, pronouncing that peace on them which she herself shared so largely. On the following Tuesday I joined the family. Martha was unwell; she ascribed it to a cold, and expressed a hope that in a day or two it would pass off. Nevertheless, her animal spirits were more than usually affected as the day closed. I spent the evening in her chamber, and with playfulness of remark endeavored to revive them. The least attentions of mine were never lost on so devoted a sister; and she rose above bodily sensations to exercise those relative sympathies which were now as natural as instinct, and dearer far than life. On the Wednesday I left her again for the post of publie duty; but without the least uneasiness on account of this variation in her health.

To Martha death was ever a serious thing. Hope might change the countenance of this adversary, faith might disarm him of his sting; yet the separations which his approach involved, and the momentous, though blessed consequences by which it was followed, would have cherished any sentiment rather than levity. She had endeavored to familiarize her thoughts to the event of mortality, and to associate with it the incomparable promises of life and immortality; but there was still one view of it from which her reflections had uniformly recoiled; it was that which presented her with final separation from her family. She had resigned her worldly prospects, though to her hopeful and amiable mind they were highly interesting; she held her personal comforts in a perfectly loose hand to the will of Providence; life itself she could resign, though life still was sweet, and the dew of her youth was upon her; but how she should freely surrender her family she had hardly dared to think. This was the point at which she now felt herself to be most vulnerable; she was grieved that she had so little power to dwell upon it; and she embraced this short interval, in which most of the family were away from her, to seek, with greater hope, to wean her affections from those she most ardently loved. To a heart that lived in the love of others, this was a severe effort; and it frequently Yet this attack was more serious than I reckoned; disturbed that serenity of mind which was other and Martha, from the first, though unwilling to wise possessed. However, nothing was to be so awaken the fears of others, was disposed to look at much dreaded as the least allowed unreadiness for it in the most solemn light No sooner had her the summons which might so suddenly call her brother departed than her forced spirits left her; away, and she gave herself to the struggle with and finding herself really worse, she expressed her many prayers and tears to Him who was able to mind freely to her sister and Maria, who were condeliver. She was heard in the thing in which she stantly with her. "I have had," she observed, feared, as far as is consistent with our state of "many warnings, but this I believe is the summons. frailty. The very exercise, though so painful, I am much induced to think so from this circumbrought its relief; she felt it was well that it was in stance that I have long been anxious for my mind her heart to have every attachment completely sub- to be prepared for death, before it should be perordinated to the love of heaven; and, without lov-mitted to come; and, notwithstanding all my afflicing her friends the less, she was assisted to asso- tions, I have never felt entirely resigned to it till ciate the love of them more with another state of now; and now I trust I am. But these," she contibeing, and with acquiescence to the divine appoint-nued, seeing her friends affected by her announcements, all unknown as they were.

Little did I think, on returning to my sister's embraces in the opening of October, what had been the exercises of her mind; nor was there any thing to suggest them to my thoughts. Her spirit was filled with joy at our meeting, and her mind was

ment, are only my impressions, and I may be wrong;" and then she enlarged on the foundation of hope which the gospel furnished in the time of dissolution, with a rich confidence in its sufficiency. What," she said in conclusion, with peculiar earnestness, "what could philosophy and all the expe

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dients of philosophy do for me now? To a dying sinner, they are less than nothing and vanity!"

The remainder of the day was spent under the most solemn and interesting impressions. Two or three favorite chapters in Mrs. More's "Practical Piety" were read, and became food for conversation; and at her particular request they sang, as part of the evening devotions, Simeon's hymn, in Dr. Watts's version.

prepare to die; after all, the circumstances are so new and so trying!"

"O that I could give the views I now have to others! Those views which a death-bed furnishesof the nature of personal piety-of the awfulness of eternity-of the importance of salvation by Jesus Christ-and of the value of religion in early life-especially in early life!

"O it is most important for the work to be begun Thursday and Friday were looked to for the in our early days, before we are brought into the signs of amendment, but Martha became worse; conflict of death! Religion, if really found on a and so much were the family alarmed, that on the dying bed, must have so much to contend with that evening of the latter day it was thought needful to is quite uncongenial with itself-such pride, such send a messenger to me. It was late before the passion, such self-will, such habits of evil-as must tidings reached me; but I could not suffer myself make it very awful! The mind must be often in to lose any time in departing for Cheshunt. The terrible doubt and darkness!-If it is not so, it night itself was a memorable one. The rain fell must be by an extraordinary act of grace, which, in sudden torrents to the ground; the sheet light-though it may occur, we have no right to expect. ning, though so far in the year, gleamed over the gloomy heavens, and made the darkness sensible; the rains had fallen so copiously that the waters were flowing like a river over the roads to a surprising extent and depth, and with such velocity as, at one period, effectually to resist our progress. However, our cattle were good, our errand was urgent, and we persevered, and were successful. All that night were not so favored. A horse and his rider who passed us, were swept away by the current which we overcame, and quickly perished.

There was something in the character of the night that agreed with my feelings; and which, while it harmonized with them, strengthened them. I reached the cottage in alarm, and hastened to the well known chamber of the sufferer. She had fallen into sleep-this was a comfort to me. But in a few days, a few hours, what an alteration! The bloom had faded from her cheek; pain was busy on her countenance; in her sleep she was still a sufferer. It was an affecting sight! I turned from it to her window. The waning moon looked troubled through the watery clouds; the dying winds were moaning in the naked trees; the faded leaves were now and then rustling to the ground; the distant clock was telling out the last hour of time. "Every thing," I thought, "yes, every thing speaks

of death!"

"I trust I know in whom I have believed; but all that I have known and experienced of the Saviour's grace, I have sometimes found only just enough to sustain and encourage me! Last night the agonies of the body were so great as, for a time, to affect the mind-my feet seemed quivering as I stood on the brink of Jordan! but the Lord strengthened me! Blessed be his name!-I know him-he will not forsake me-he will be with me in the swellings of Jordan!"

On observing my distress, she readily changed the course of her remarks, and, with a mixture of confidence and tenderness, continued-"What a mercy that we have lived together so happily-that we have understood each other so well-that we have had such opportunities of forming an affection which will never be broken-no, brother, never be broken! I feel assured that our love shall be continued and perfected in heaven. We shall only be separated as for a moinent-and then-then we shall meet before the throne never to part!" Her thoughts dwelt upon the assurance with delight.

"O how little have I done for the cause of my Saviour! I did hope my life would have been spared to be useful to others: but Jehovah has appointed otherwise, and I bow to his will! I cannot now serve him by my life; I pray that I may yet do it by my death. O that my death may be made eminently useful that it may constrain many to work while it is called to-day-that it may quicken many to thoughtfulness and prayer!

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The following morning brought no relief to our fears. The medical attendant, though unwilling to give us uneasiness, could not encourage hope. I And, perhaps, in that world to which I am hastened to Martha's side, seeking and yet dreading going, I may be useful as well as happy. I shall an interview. We met in silence, and exchanged be, my Saviour says, as the angels in heaven; and looks and embraces. Suffering as she was, she they are all ministering spirits sent forth to minisarose on her pillows to receive me, and seemed al-ter to the heirs of salvation. Dear brother!" said most dead to the sense of pain in the intentness of

the mind.

I inquired how she had passed the night.

"I have had," she replied, "a wretched night." "That night," I observed, " is now gone.' "Yes, gone for ever, and the Lord has helped me. He is righteous and good, and will, I trust, be with me to the end!"

"O brother!" she continued, with a look of peculiar earnestness, "that is a beautiful prayer: 'Most merciful Saviour, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee!" "

This allusion to her personal state shook my command over my feelings; and to avoid disturbing her serenity at such a crisis, I retired to a distant part of the room. It was evident, however, that she was desirous of discharging her thoughts while she could; and, unfitted as I was for the trial, I necessarily obeyed her bidding, and returned to her side.

she, touched by the thought, "perhaps, perhaps it may still be my privilege to hover about your ways, to contribute in some mode or other to your comfort and your usefulness. When I am gone, O do not think of me as afar off, but as near to you, as watching over you, as soon to join again for ever!" "O my dear, dear brother, do not weep-do not weep-that will break my heart! If you knew all I have suffered, you would earnestly pray for my dismissal-indeed you would. I would not advert to any thing that should give you a moment's pain; but I am desirous that you should know that I am happy-yes, notwithstanding all I suffer that 1 am happy-that religion makes me so that God does support me. This will be a comfort to you at a future time.

"O all of you should join with me in praising the Saviour! I have been so afraid of dishonoring him-I hope he has kept me from this! Blessed be his name!-so good-so kind-infinitely faithful-to me, the meanest and the least in his family! O

"O brother!" she said, "it is so different to behold death near us and at a distance-so very dif-God! O my God!" ferent! The longest life, I now find, is too short to Number 16.

I was fearful that she would suffer from exertion

and motioned her to take rest. She took the hand that was extended towards her, and pressing it to her lips, remained silent, but evidently in mental prayer.

Soon she turned a look of concern on me, and said, "Brother, there is one thing-Maria-" but she was too much exhausted to explain. It was not necessary, I understood at once that she would have referred to the distress, which would arise to her devoted young friend by this visitation, and implored ny kindness and protection in her favor. Accustomed as she was to read her brother's countenance, she saw there, troubled as it was, a reply to her anxious request, which gave her satisfaction. Her eyes smiled upon me; she covered my hand with kisses; and sunk down on her couch, faintly saying, "My dear brother, my dear brother, thou hast been precious to me precious to me!"

Later in the day, she disposed of every thing that belonged to her, naming distinctly most of her young friends, and putting aside, with her own hand, some token of friendship, or dictating some affectionate message which might make a useful impression. This was done with the greatest calmness, and designedly in my absence; and when she observed that her sister and Maria were affected by it, she looked on them with inexpressible sweetness, and said, "But mind, I am doing all this only in case I do not get better."

'T'hen came the children of our family whom she so much loved, but from whom it was now necessary for her to separate. The youngest still an infant, was expressly a miniature likeness of herself, with the only, but affecting difference, that the one was the opening, the other the fading flower. The little creature, quite insensible to the occasion, laughed, and cooed, and shook its tiny hand, as it was accustomed to do on retiring to its rest. She pressed it warmly to her bosom, and then forced it from her embraces for ever.

The second child approached her with similar playfulness; but when he found that she was not able to return it, concern gathered on his features, as he observed, "Aunt Martha poorly."-" Yes, my dear," she replied; "aunt Martha poorly-but soon be better." She embraced him; put her hand upon him, and breathed out her blessing.

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Andrew, who had received so much of her care, stood at her bedside somewhat alarmed, and scarcely knowing why. She was anxious to prevent his receiving any unpleasant impression from the idea of death. Andrew, my dear little Annew," she said, "I love you very much; but I am going away from you for a while; God is pleased to take me to heaven, that happy place above the bright blue sky. And, perhaps, I may still know how my Annew behaves; and if he is good and kind, it will please me, and when he dies God will take him to heaven, that happy place, and then we shall live together for ever.' She closed her eyes, folded her hands, and earnestly prayed-" O my Saviour! enlighten his understanding, draw his affections to thyself, make him useful to thee, and the joy of his parents!"

The last act of departure from the room was abrupt. It was too painful for any of us quietly to witness; and, by the emotion that played about Martha's lips, I saw that the scene was too trying to be protracted.

The interview had fixed itself on the mind of our eldest child. He remained silent and thoughtful for the residue of the evening. There was an assurance of happiness, and an appearance to the contrary, which perplexed him. As his mother was attending him to his sleeping room, he heard his aunt groan under a paroxysm of pain, which urged him to an inquiry that revealed the complexion of

his thoughts-"But, I say, mamma, if heaven is such a happy place, why do people groan in going to heaven!"

The following morning she expected would bring her parents. She desired, but dreaded it. She was earnest in prayer, that she and they might be supported in the meeting. They arrived. I did what I could so to prepare and guard them for the interview, that Martha's mind might be as little discomposed as possible. But who or what shall prepare a devoted parent to look on a devoted child in such circumstances, for the first time, with tranquillity? Her fond mother first hastened to her presence with fixed purposes of suppressing her feelings while there; but scarcely had her affectionate eye glanced on her changed countenance before her sorrows overcame her, and she fled from her chamber to weep at liberty, exclaiming, "It's a lost case! O it is a lost case! my child! my child!"

Her venerable father followed. He stood before her in speechless misery. An effort was made to speak, but his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, and the lips quivered with excitement. She seized his hand and saluted it, and broke the silence which it was so hard to endure. "Father, my dear father! It has pleased the Great Disposer of all events, that you should commit my spirit to his hands. It is well! Lay it not to heart, father! It is the will of God! and his will is good and wise! I shall be taken the earlier from a world of sin and misery. We are both, I trust, bound to one place, and it matters very little, father, which of us arrive first. I shall be waiting to welcome you to the habitation of God, and our separation will be but for a moment a moment, or eternity's forgot!' My dearest father, do not fret! we must not fret! Come, let us take our harps from the willows, and to the praise of grace divine bid every string—every string yes, every string awake!"

Her father still stood before her with features burthened with wo; he could not at once overcome the shock he had received. Martha was moved by it.

Father!" she said.

He turned a troubled look upon her.
"Could you pray with me, dearest father!"
He shook his head in speechless agony.

She saw that she had asked too much at this moment, and that he would best recover himself by retiring from her chamber.

As her father left the room her mind was in the act of worship, as if to regain the composure which had been shaken, and which she feared to lose, waiting as she was for the hourly appearance of her Saviour.

"Now," she said, alluding to these interviews with her family, "the bitterness of death is past! Lord, I have waited for thy salvation! Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' Her thoughts were soon restored to rest on their chosen centre, and they were evidently wrapped in joyful anticipations of eternal blessedness! O heaven, heaven, heaven!" she exclaimed, "O the moment that will succeed to death!"

Her pains increasing on her, she repeated the following lines, to which she was partial, with a most gentle and resigned voice:—

I would not contend with thy will,
Whatever that will may decree
But O may each trial I feel
Unite me more firmly to Thee!
"Tis better to suffer and die

Beneath thy compassionate rod
Than find my enjoyments run high,
But never have Thee for my God

Her mother had now resumed her post at her side for the night; and Maria, on the other hand, was at her request reading and singing alternately. These exercises were continued till, wearisomeness gaining an ascendency even over pain, she fell into a temporary repose.

CHAPTER XXIV.
CLOSING SCENES. 1821.

It will have been apparent, that none of our family were at all prepared to expect the event which I am recording but my sister—and that she was in a wonderful state of preparation. An hour that often steals insensibly on the wisest and the best, was not allowed to surprise her. She was, indeed, a wise virgin; she neither slumbered nor slept; her hopes were all awake; her oil was in her lamp, and it was trimmed, lighted, and burning brightly.

I had always considered Martha remarkably in habitual readiness for an exchange of worlds, and the later advances in her Christian character, had disposed me to think it would nobly meet such a trial; but all that I had admitted on the subject was far outdone by the reality. The first impression I received in my interview with her can never be lost; it is one of those recollections which, however distant in time, will still be near to consciousness. Though, in so short an interval, her flesh had actually sunk, her very person struck me as of greater size than it had previously attained. But the effect was produced by an enlargement of mind, not of body. Such superiority to life, such elevation of soul, such unclouded faith, such living hope, such a sense of the presence of heaven and eternity, while it was consoling to the uttermost, was really oppressive by its sublimity. In her upward flight I felt that she already left me far behind; she was surrounded by a light and glory which I could not reach; she was welcoming an event which overwhelmed me in distress; her very love and tenderness to me, had more of angelic condescension than of human frailty about them; she seemed to be standing at the very gates of heaven, expecting each moment they might be thrown open, and the hands of ministering spirits might usher her to the presence of her Lord.

hold on her. It was well for me that, at such a moment, she was not actually removed!

Providence had appointed, that if Martha was to die "a happy death," it should owe nothing of its happiness to the slightness of bodily suffering, or the free action of untried graces. Her fortitude, her patience, her faith were to be exercised to the very uttermost; and it was to be shown that they were separate from, and could triumph over, the body's deepest distress.

Contrary to all expectation, the fever which threatened the instant danger abated considerably in its violence. Ready as we were to catch at the shadow of amendment, hope partially revived, and our minds fell from the intensity of fear into the fluctuations of suspense. How did we wait for the regular arrivals of the medical attendant! How did we hang upon his lips for the few words he was to utter as words of life and death! How were we driven to and fro by the impulses of hope and fear, as the symptoms of disease rose or subsided!However, this interval, though full of suffering, afforded our afflicted family time for prayer and reflection; exercises which, if they were desirable to all, I felt to be most necessary to myself. The variations which brought to us something of hope, afforded Martha only disappointment. She had been standing as on an eminence, beholding the unclouded prospects of her fair inheritance, and she would willingly, like Moses, have died there; but it was the will of her heavenly Leader that yet again she should descend into the valley, where, through the infirmities of the flesh, her prospects would often be beclouded, and sometimes eclipsed. To this will she devoutedly submitted.In exaltation her mind had remained sober; in her depression it remained confident; the body might fluctuate, but the soul continued fully fixed on God, fully expectant of that hour which though hid den from her knowledge, was present to her watchfulness.

To preserve this simplicity of attention undisturbed as much as possible, she declined seeing any friends except the members of her family, and one or two as fainiliar as they; while she entertained a most grateful sense of the sympathy and kindness the whole neighborhood was disposed to manifest.She improved her hours, as her state allowed, in devotional reading and singing, frequently attempting to join in part of a hymn; and if her thoughts were at liberty to pass from herself to the world, it was exclusively on their accustomed errands of benevolence. The following quotations from her conversation about this time, are illustrations to the point.

Alluding to the delay in her anticipated removal, "This," she said, "is mysterious: I had hoped it would be otherwise; but it is right. If I am kept here, it is for some good end. Perhaps it is that I may be more useful. Pray that my death may be useful, and that patience may have its perfect work."

It was a great source of lamentation, that I was not in a state of mind, more congenial to her own at this period. But, while I had often thought anxiously and seriously of Martha's indisposition, I had always shunned anticipating a fatal termination; and this sudden change in her situation fell on me like a thunderstroke from heaven. I was called to yield unexpectedly an object, which had entwined itself about the heart by innumerable ties, and I could not do it. The want of resignation to the event, unfitted me for giving the devoted sufferer what assistance I might in her mortal struggle. I felt that I ought to read with her, to unite with her in prayer, to speak to her the words of comfort, and to animate her in conquering every thing that held She named some young friends who had shown her to earth and life; but no-I could not do it.- her kind attentions, with great affection, and said— She was obliged to seek all this from other lips than "Eliza, I have particularly to request you will her brother's: and I was sadly displeased with my-write to them, and let them know my condition.self. The more I saw of her excellence, the less I could exercise of submission; the more slender the ties by which I held her, the more tenacious was the grasp. My earthly sorrows appeared almost to profane her presence; and that I might not wound a peace which I was not qualified to confirm, I frequently retired from her chamber and all human intercourse, into the garden; maintaining, as I unconsciously paced its paths, great strife of spiFit, sincerely desirous, I hope, to give her up to the hand of Providence, and yet unable to loose my

Tell them that they have been much on my mind and in my prayers for months past. Assure them that, in all I have suffered, I have felt more powerfully than ever the value, the necessity of real religion; and urge them, in the strongest terms, to flee from the world and its vanities, and devote themselves early, decidedly to the Saviour."

"Give my Christian regards to the students, and tell them to persevere amid all discouragements, and to carry the gospel, the pure gospel, wherever they can. Let them be prudent, but let them fear

nothing except it be sin-remembering that they will be extensively either a savor of life unto life, or of death unto death. Tell them to think, always to think, of the infinite value of an immortal soul." "Give, brother," she said to me, "my dying love to the teachers of the Sabbath-school, and tell them I now think with pleasure of my engagements with them in instructing the ignorant and the poor; that a dying bed makes these services appear not less, but more important and interesting; and that I hope, since my efforts were so quickly ended, they will be anxious to supply my lack of service. Give my love also to all the young people, and assure them that, whatever their hearts may say, or their companions suggest, there is nothing like early piety.I am thankful for many, many things, but chiefly for this. They wish to be happy; but tell them from me, that no life can be happy but as it is spent in communion with God and devotedness to him.'

greatest honor to bear whatever thou shalt see fit to lay upon me!"

O ny weariness, my restlessness! How I long to get home! I thought my heavenly Father would have taken me home ere this-but it is otherwise. O my God, may I remain here to strengthen the faith of those around me to glorify thee by my keen anguish! That is what I desire-yes, that is what I desire-to gratify thee!"

"Maria, read to me-read some chapters and some prayers, and sing; I want all the help i can get now; I cannot even think for myself." The Scriptures and prayer at the end of Doddridge's Rise and Progress were read, and afterward the 23d Psalm. She took up the language of the 4th verse-"I will fear no evil; no why should I fear? Thou art with me, and wilt comfort me but it is a dark valley-yet I will fear no evil!" Her friend remarked, “A Christian has comparatively little to fear."

Thou wilt bring me safely through!"

"O my Saviour," she prayed in strong agony, "Thou art full of compassion! Take me from this state of suffering, or give me patience to wait and bear it!"

This comparative suspension of acute suffering continued only for a few days; and, while it lasted, "Ah, my dear," she replied quickly, “That is like the pause between two opposing powers, neither because you do not know what it is to die. Death of which is victorious, it was ominous of more fixed at the very best, is an awful thing, and nature and fatal conflict. Disease and death were resisted shudders at it. But," lifting her eyes to heaven, by a fine constitution, in the very verdure and ener-"I will fear no evil; Thou art indeed with megy of life; but, alas! the power of nature to resist was in this case only an awful capacity to endure the utmost portion of anguish. Her inward foes fixed on the vital parts, and the struggle continued and increased day after day, night after night, till it became even dreadful! Unceasing restlessness, delirious pain, deathlike sickness, writhing convulsions, by turns and together, shook the whole frame with unspeakable violence. But it must not be dwelt upon even in a distant recollection! It is sufficient to say, that such were the agonies at the crisis of this attack, that for eight-and-forty hours no sleep could be secured to the tormented sufferer, by the freest administration of the most potent opiates!

If it was painfully astonishing to behold what the Dody could suffer and yet live, it was divinely great and edifying to see how the spirit could sustain it. The storm, dreadful as it was, was limited to the grosser elements of her nature; beyond them all was still clear and tranquil. The mind might occasionally be obscured by bodily suffering, or bewildered by the illusions of bodily senses, or shut up and hidden amid bodily infirmities; but when it appeared it was still the same mind-placid, confiding-alive, indeed, to a sense of suffering, yet superior to all that oppressed it. Her own language will give the best representation, though it is broken

and uttered at intervals.

"O Eliza," she said to her sister, "I never thought it would come to this-so helpless-so inanimate such pain!"

On being asked if she was happy, "Yes," she replied, "I am in exquisite pain, but free from care and alarm."

"I hope," her sister remarked, "we shall meet in heaven." "O yes!" she replied, "and soon!-It will not do to cast away our confidence, nor to be tussed to and fro with every wind and wave."

"I have been praying," she said, "that, if it were the Lord's will, he would cut short my suffering, and take me to himself; nevertheless, not my will, but his be done. If God is glorified, that is every thing."

"O this is a bitter cup-a bitter cup! Thou, O Lord, art righteous and true. Thou art my rock, there is no unrighteousness in thee. In faithfulness and in love hast thou afflicted me !"

"O this is trying, very trying! Forbid, my Saviour, that, through these pains, I should for a moment dishonor thee! and let me esteem it my

It was remarked, "That it was a great blessing rather to desire death than to dread it."

"Ah," she replied, "there is my danger! I fear I may desire it too much, and so become impatient. I would not wish for any thing, only that God may be_glorified in my suffering, or in my dying."

From this time she was not heard to utter one desire for her deliverance, however submissively; only that faith and patience might be granted.

"O pray for me-pray for me, that I may trust in God-simply trust in him. There is nothing like a simple dependance on the Saviour as a sinner-nothing but a sinner!"

"I never before felt the meaning of those words which the Saviour uttered, 'My soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death.' Ah, exceeding sorrowful, and very heavy. I never before saw its meaningsorrowful and very heavy: I understand it, but I cannot tell you anything about it-very heavy!

"And we feel," I said, "my dear, all the benefit of the Saviour's sorrows."

"So oppressive were his sorrows," she continued still dwelling on the words," that it was necessary to send an angel from heaven to strengthen him.” And," ," I observed, they are all ministering spirits to the heirs of salvation."

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"Yes, they are!" she replied with earnestness, "Brother! notwithstanding all my affliction, I am dwelling on it for some time, and then continuing: happy. I have no wants--no fears! I had, indeed, something more for my Saviour. I wished, had it a hard struggle to give up life without having done been his will, to live to be useful; but now his will is my will. My soul doth magnify the Lord, and It is enough-quite enough! rejoice, yea, exceedingly rejoice, in his salvation! thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have 'Now, Lord, lettest beheld thy salvation!"

"O brother, my soul is in bitterness--such pain! But the Lord is righteous-he is good."

"Yes, my dear, good when he gives, supremely good."

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"Nor less," she replied, taking up the words; nor less when he denies."

And yet," she continued, "it is mysterious, is it not? To think how easily dear Miss Weybridge was dismissed; just walking across the room, and

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