tainly enough to encourage us to trust Him for what is to come. He will not, surely, after having led us thus far, leave us the prey to disappointment and distress.*

Arkstone, Jan. 21, 1822.

Is it really possible, that the time is near when we shall be united, never to be separated again till death divides us? I have some work to persuade myself this can be true; perhaps you will not be surprised—and if you are, you must not-I may say, you will not be displeased-that sometimes, when thinking of our marriage as near, I almost shrink from it: do not be alarmed, it is on account of its carrying with it so much importance, so much responsibility, so that I appear to myself advancing with a faltering step; but I am sustained by what you said in your last, that we are Christians, and therefore may look fearlessly at it.' I do not fear any thing, or any one, but myself. I know too much of Anne, not to be afraid of her. What a different effect an increase of selfknowledge produces, to that which is produced by an increasing knowledge of my dearest William ;-that tends to debase the object I am thus more familiarized with-while this tends to exalt and produce an augmenting stock of esteem and delight. But I need not tell you of my faults, for your own penetration has, doubtless, discovered enough; and what remains yet obscured, I dare say your affection would not let you believe, if you were informed of them, until they are brought to light by your own discoveries. I will, however, leave talking of my own faultiness, as, perhaps, it is a subject very uninteresting to you, though, by the way, it is one that materially concerns you, and will just advert to a subject which has often occurred to my mind, even when it was improbable it would, till a late period, concern me. It refers to the line of conduct to be pursued by married persons, with regard to faults that may exist in each other.

I suppose all have some faults; or, at least, some peculiarities, which occasionally generate faultiness. What made me

* How frequently may a thoughtful Christian, though long experienced, and variously exercised, perceive a principle of the Divine administration, without detecting the cases in his own history in which it shall be applied, or be inapplicable! And how frequently, too, will he be the subject of a dispensation of the Divine government, without being capable of tracing out, with certainty, the principle on which the ministration has come upon him.

first think about this, was the observing, by the conduct of some I have known, that they took a secret pleasure in exposing, to the gaze of any who chose to look, the little imperfections that had crept into each other: such conduct always excited disgust in my mind. Others, I have seen, who do not merit so high a degree of censure; they are those who do not busy themselves either to expose or conceal; for should an opportunity offer them to throw a shade over any deformity, they will not trouble themselves to embrace it. But others, I have seen, who seemed to make it, in part, the business of their lives to extract every thing of a defective nature; and if, in their efforts to accomplish this, they were defeated, they would have recourse to other measures; and try, meantime, to screen from the observation of those around, what they could not annihilate surely such conduct is admirable-is worthy of imitation-and, may I not say, it is Godlike. If so, it is worth our attention; I recommend it to you, my dear William, especially, because it is probable you will have more occasion for it than I shall; at least, it is well for me to make provision for what is possible, and may happen. It must be our care, when any thing appears wrong, to check it, and use every means to extirpate it; and, till we can accomplish our purpose, let us use all the little arts which pious affection can invent, to conceal it from the view of any but ourselves.

Considering the influence our union will have on the remaining part of our lives, and its bearing upon our eternal interests, I do not wonder at what you say respecting it. I have thought of the many duties we shall then owe to each other you will have to love and cherish your Anne, and bear with her infirmities, even as Christ has to do with his weak members. On the other hand, I shall have to love, and that of course takes in all the various ways which love has to branch out into; and honour-tell me, will you, all that you think that word implies? and obey, of course, in every thing where the laws of God and propriety do not forbid. And how much will our spiritual interests depend on each other as instruments: we shall certainly, if our love remains strong, be either eminent blessings to each other, or, on the contrary, great hindrances, and, consequently, great curses. To marry, is then, indeed, a serious business: it requires much thought, much care, in approaching; and, when arrived, it demands great cautious watchfulness, that, while we pluck the roses, we do not gather any of the thorns. That this may be the case, we shall need apply daily to our Heavenly Father for his aid;

otherwise we too, it is probable, shall split upon the very rock where, we have lamented, others made shipwreck of piety, or affection, or, perhaps, both.

But our responsibility will not be confined to ourselves, it will extend to our household; they have claims upon us, both as it regards their bodies and their souls; claims which we cannot be inattentive to and be blameless, and which will require much thought, judicious arrangements, economical management, and spiritual influence, in order to answer them. The neighbourhood, likewise, in which God may place us, will have a right to expect some benefit: in truth, we shall, wherever we go, be surrounded by those to whom we owe duties; to discharge which will require all the thought, and the wisdom gained by thought; and all the prayer, and the piety gained by prayer, that we can exercise.

It is well, my dear William, we have some ballast, just to keep us from being lifted up above measure; this would expose very much to danger her who is, and ever wishes to be, your own dear ANNE.

Arkstone, Feb. 3, 1822.

WITH what strange-what novel-what peculiar feelings, do I now take my pen to address William, my dearest earthly friend! Is it possible that I am now commencing a letter which will, on my part, close a correspondence that has been so very interesting, edifying, and important? Solemn thoughts occupy my mind, while I reflect that it is next to certain, I shall not from Arkstone write another letter to my dearest William. And why, may it be asked, do you feel peculiarly about that? The answer to such a query is—that, not to say any thing of the important event itself which is approaching, and by means of which letter-writing, as it has been used by us, will be dispensed with, the impression dwells on my mind, that I am shortly to quit the place where I have received some of the greatest blessings of my life. It was here the mind of your Anne became savingly affected by the Spirit of her God;-here the sighs of penitence first heaved her heart;-here the confessions of guiltiness first escaped her lips; the cry of distressing need for mercy first reached the ears of Jehovah ;-here also the sweet whispers of peace and pardon, through the blood of the Redeemer, were first heard. Here I first saw the countenance of my beloved William,

and commenced an acquaintance with him of the most inte resting and, I believe, beneficial nature; one that will have such an influence on all the after part of my life, and even on my eternal state. These I consider the most prominent blessings I have received under this roof-to me a sacred roof. Oh! it has, indeed, been to me the house of mercy. What wonder at my being the subject of a good deal of feeling, when I look forward to a speedy removal from Arkstone, where it is likely I shall never again enter.

And is this my last letter to you, William? and shall I not write you another letter till I am your, I hope, affectionate and faithful wife? Anne Howell will never again, then, have an opportunity of urging her William to the possession and practice of Christian holiness, of encouraging him to believe in the Saviour, of endeavouring to dispel his doubts, of trying to make distrust give place to confidence and reliance-grief to joy-fear to hope-and unbelief to living faith. It would, indeed, be distressing to me, if I had to reflect, that, while closing on my part our correspondence, my opportunities of at least attempting to be useful to you were to be entirely cut off; but this need be no source of uneasiness, as they will be increased in a ten-fold degree. I have, in reality, then, cause for joy, that this is my last letter; because, I shall be always with my dearest friend, see him every day, know his every want, and, as far as I can, supply them, and thus try to disperse every cloud that anxiety or distress may gather on his brow. Our union will, I am sure, be a very happy one, if we continually seek unto our Heavenly Father for his blessing; and without this, I am persuaded, our very blessings would prove curses.

You request me to tell you the state of my soul:-A few days back my mind was in considerable heaviness, through manifold temptations; the enemy thrust sore at me that I might fall; and I must have given way to his insinuations, for I found a cloud resting between my soul and my Redeemer, so as to render me unable to gaze on him with that delightful consciousness that he was MY Saviour, as I had before been enabled to do; but, blessed be my God, this is dispersed, and I feel again freedom of access to Him. have, of course, the humbling recollection that I have not held out faithful without wavering; but, blessed be the Saviour, he does permit me to cast myself, with all my sins, on his atoning blood; my heart is, indeed, affected, when I think of having grieved such love.

I hope and pray, I may never, never, do it again; entreat, for me, that my faith fail not any more. My heart rejoiced when I read that you had been favoured with a gracious visit from Jesus; your soul will prosper, my beloved William, if you are diligent in watching unto prayer, and resolute and persevering in exercising faith. How very easy the way of faith seems, when the mind has acquired the habit of constantly believing; but when faith is seldom exercised, then to believe is a difficult work.

SECT. IV.

ON Feb. 19, 1822, Miss Anne Howell entered the marriage state, and arrived with Mr. Barber at his residence at Longford Academy.

In a memorandum-book she has briefly noticed this event, in the following terms:- Tuesday, 19th Feb. 1822. United to my very dear William, I believe in the Lord.' What a mercy do I esteem it, that after so many months of fearful suspense, He has now realized my wishes: may my heart ever be alive and sanctified to Him.'

Imagination might innocently indulge itself in contemplating, with pleasing interest, the attending circumstances, and the flattering prospects of these truly auspicious events. With the full approbation of her own mind, she had given herself to the person whom, she believed, God himself, in his Providence, had commended to her love. It was the consummation of a virtuous and exemplary attachment, nourished amidst the alarms and the forebod

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