the religious communion to which they belonged, was natural: few considerations, probably, would then present themselves to cause hesitation. But in after life, when, from their position in general society, she and her family were in circumstances to mix with distinguished persons of religious denominations held by the world in higher regard than her own, there were not wanting temptations to forsake it. But through all circumstances, and at a time when Methodism was publicly called in question, and no effort was spared to make it disliked, and even scorned, by society at large, her regard and preference remained unshaken. She loved and highly valued its system of Christian truth, and its church-arrangements for order and godly edification. She loved its ministry, and held her pastors in sincere and high regard as the messengers of Christ; and in the expression of her heartfelt attachment, as well as in a readiness to maintain it, and aid its progress, through her whole life she never faltered.

There is not a more deeply interesting object under heaven than a human spirit, convinced of separation and estrangement from God, seeking in distress its way to His presence and favour; anxious for reconciliation, and for peace and communion with Him. The interest excited is the greater, when this movement of the soul is seen to take place in early life. Here was a young female, of amiable nature, of tempers as lovely as her person; and, probably, the most observant eyes could see nothing in her spirit or conduct amiss, but everything to admire. She was at a period of life when to such a one the world, in most cases, has an absolute power of fascination. What was it that struck into her heart the conviction that the want of love to God, in a creature that He has made, redeemed, and seeks to make for ever blessed, is a sin ?—that from her earliest childhood that sin had been so rooted and constant as to prove a total degeneracy of nature, and cause an entire perversion of those affections which God had given her, that she might set them upon Himself? What was it that rendered these convictions so urgent, and led her, at that time of life, to "seek the Lord ?" In this inquiry, our want of information places us at fault. But that she did "search for Him with all her heart," and that she found Him, and peace with Him through the Lord Jesus Christ, she was wont to testify. The evidence was ample: for this peace was so abounding in her last terrible affliction, as to afford her extraordinary strength and great consolation. This peace with God, more than her outward prosperity, accounted for the happiness which through life she enjoyed. Evidence, also, that, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, she was "created anew in Christ Jesus" to the love of God, and to an inward and outward Christian sanctity, was as apparent in her whole life, as that she had obtained peace with God. On the ground of a long acquaintance, and frequent opportunity of observation, the writer of this sketch feels assured that this conclusion, in both its parts, is just.

In October, 1823, Miss Schofield was married to Mr. John Mayson; a union which was remarkably happy. Mr. Mayson was of her own age; like her, he had sought and found true religion; he was a member of the Wesleyan Society, and had entered upon a course of usefulness in the church,-being engaged in giving Sunday-school instruction, in promoting the Mission cause, and in other useful works. Providence smiled upon them, and made their way to prosper. For many years there was not a happier home than theirs; and to that happiness Mrs. Mayson's excellent understanding, uniform sweetness of temper, love of her husband and children, and able management of her household affairs, very largely contributed. Her husband was happy in her, she was happy in her husband, and their two children grew up as affectionate and dutiful as any parents can wish their children to be.

In the midst of this temporal prosperity, and these causes of abounding satisfaction with their lot, Mrs. Mayson's religious character appeared to great advantage. What defections from Christ, from His people, and His cause, have been occasioned by a profusion of earthly satisfactions! Prosperity did not elate her: she remained firm, in no way perverted. No one saw in her the airs of pride or self-importance. Through life, she was eminently an humble Christian. With great steadiness she sought, in the diligent use of means, that grace on which her inward spiritual life depended. Her first class-leader, Mrs. James Wood, of Grove-House, was happily suited, from her superior intelligence and sincere piety, to be the guide of her early footsteps in the path of life. She highly valued and carefully improved the privilege of holding communion with such a Christian, and continued to meet in her class as long as her leader lived. Mrs. Wood always regarded her with great affection; and the sentiment was mutual.

Any one who entered into conversation with Mrs. Mayson, on the subject of her personal religion, must have been impressed with her manifest sincerity, and the very modest estimate which she formed of herself as a Christian. This appeared in the weekly meetings with her friends for Christian communion. There are some, in regard to whom, when you hear their relation of religious experience, and judge also from their ordinary life, you must abate something from the glow and fervour of the terms in which it is expressed, if you judge truly. There are others, in regard to whom, when you hear their account of their religious attainments and progress, and judge also from their every-day life, if you conclude justly, you must add considerably to what is said. The subject of this memoir belonged to this latter class. Mrs. Williamson, with whom she met in class for years, and who is well able to observe and judge, writes to this effect. Mrs. Mayson's statements of religious experience were characterized by a "singular simplicity." There was an absence of all stereotyped forms of expres sion, of all vague generalities and commonplaces, in the utterance of

her religious views and feelings. Her habit was that of careful "selfinspection,”—a habit which class-meetings are ever intended to promote. Her "spirit made diligent search" into its state before God; and what she uttered was the conclusion to which the process of selfexamination had conducted her. She was remarkable for "an intense anxiety to be right, and to do right." Her "standard of religion was high;" and she was little tolerant, in herself, of any infirmity. "She followed Christ so closely as never to lose sight of His footsteps. The expressions of love to her Saviour, and her earnest pleadings, at the throne of grace, that there might not be an inconsistent member of His church in their 'little band,'" her friend says, never can we forget."

This intense anxiety of hers to do right, as well as to be right, deserves remark. It is the sure way to proficiency in Christian knowledge. "If any man will do His will," said the Divine Teacher, "he shall know of the doctrine." Reading her Bible with the sincere wish that she might know God's will, and do it, she was given to see Christian truth in a very clear light. Cautious and guarded though she was, and, perhaps, somewhat too reserved in her testimony to what God had given to her, and wrought within her; it yet appeared to the writer, from repeated conversations during her long affliction, and previously, that He had given her views of "the doctrine" remarkably luminous. The way of access to God, the "exceeding great and precious promises," and "the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him," seemed to have been laid open with great evidence and fulness to her obedient heart.

To this anxiety to do the will of God must, undoubtedly, be ascribed Mrs. Mayson's active benevolence. Though every way fit to be a classleader, and pressed, when Mrs. Wood died, and subsequently, to undertake that work, her modesty in judging of her own fitness, and her natural timidity, induced her steadily to decline. But she was not an inactive member of the church: it was not her habit, nor her inclination, to "live unto herself." Neither through love of ease and enjoyment, nor through absorption in her own domestic cares, did she neglect the work of God. She was a true friend of the poor. "Ye have the poor with you always," said our Saviour; "and, whensoever ye will, ye may do them good." In her, that will was ever present and active. For more than thirty years she was treasurer of the "Clothing Charity" of the Circuit; and in that post was neither remiss nor perfunctory. She diligently visited the homes of poverty and distress, and, from personal investigation, learnt the character and necessities of the poor and afflicted. "The name and comparative merit of almost every poor person on the books of the Charity seemed familiar to her." When, therefore, the productions of the ladies' benevolent industry came to be distributed among the indigent, her friends could fully rely on her judgment of the cases. And, when domestic affliction made it imprac

ticable for her longer to fulfil the duties of this office, to those who occupied her place "the poor applicants for relief often lamented her absence, assuring them that if Mrs. Mayson had been there, she would have known all about them."" Even when her attentions to her sick husband were most anxious and incessant, she never ceased to care for the interests of this charity, and of the poor.

Besides her concern for the adult poor, she took great interest in their children; and her earnest wish was, that they should receive a suitable, but really good, education. She therefore took great interest in the Day-schools of the Circuit; and, before her afflictions came, she was mostly present at the meetings of the Ladies' Committee. She did more. "She came frequently to the schools," says one of the teachers, "and always cheered us in one way or another: the sight of her was enough to cause new light to beam from the eyes of teacher, pupil-teachers, and children throughout the school." Further, as a willing collector of funds, and in other ways, she was an active promoter of various local charities, and especially of the Missionary

cause.

The tide of domestic and social happiness continued for years to flow uninterruptedly, until it appeared to reach its height. Nothing seemed left to be desired. Her children were happily married. Her husband, prosperous in his mercantile pursuits, was held in high public esteem, as well as honoured in his own religious communion. He was placed on the Commission of the Peace. His fellow-citizens, without solicitation on his part, chose him a member of their Corporation, and an alderman of their city; and the highest civil distinction appeared likely soon to be conferred upon him. At this point of the family history, Mr. Mayson's health gave way, and all endeavours to re-establish it failed. During a long period of lingering sickness, Mrs. Mayson was an affectionate attendant; and no care could be more anxious, no attention more tender or assiduous, than hers: for her watchful efforts to soothe and sustain him knew no intermission. God at this time gave her strength as her day was; and the hope of her husband's recovery alleviated the care and toil of incessant watching. In this hope she was disappointed; suddenly she was left a widow. Mr. Mayson was a godly man. Though in the world, he was not of it; but lived a consistent and useful Christian life. He shared largely his wife's benevolence, and to a friend that needed help he was indeed a friend. He was a most loving husband and father; one who established himself for ever in the love of his wife and children. The privation fell upon all, but most upon her, as an overwhelming calamity. She seemed stricken by the God she loved; and the "blow of His hand" appeared, for the time, to bewilder her. Slowly, however, she recovered; her good understanding and right-heartedness led her to submit herself unto God, in the belief that light would one day illustrate the dark dispensation. So far did she overcome her sadness, as to enter

again upon former courses of benevolent and Christian action, and her friends calculated upon her service for years to come. In this hope, they were disappointed. Her long and unceasing attention to her husband, in his protracted illness, and her sorrow at his loss, had made inroads upon her health, and her own last affliction began. From the extreme tension in which her nerves had been held, or from some other cause of earlier origin and longer continuance, a period of great suffering set in. Her agonies became such as only few human sufferers have endured. Perhaps the nearest approach to a just idea of her pain would be to conceive that it was intensely neuralgic; not, however, affecting one set of nerves only, the pain being located in one particular part, but reaching to the entire nervous system, so that, during the frequent paroxysms, extreme anguish tortured her whole frame. She was not literally in the fire, but sufferings more excruciating could scarcely be imagined. They who saw her in these attacks would think of the torture of the rack, as giving the fittest conception of what she endured. But for intervals of ease, notwithstanding the natural soundness and vigour of her constitution, her strength must have been exhausted long before the mortal issue; but in these intermissions, though short, her power of endurance was recruited. Through the kind urgency of friends, rather than from her own wish, or hope of relief, advice was sought from every quarter. The best medical skill, and not a few medical theories, were put into requisition: all kinds of remedies were tried, some little less painful than the disease itself; but the cause of suffering remained a mystery to the last. For between two and three years this affliction continued, when, at length, exhausted nature failed, and she for ever ceased to suffer.

In this long and severe visitation she often asked, and especially at first, why she was made to endure so much pain?-and her own solution of the question was, what the Scripture teaches, that she might be partaker of the Divine holiness. These lines, therefore, she very often repeated, both when the pain was excruciating, and when it had subsided:

"With me in the fire remain,

Till like burnish'd gold I shine,
Meet, through consecrated pain,
To see the face Divine."

What was her heavenly Father's purpose, in all its particulars, with respect to herself, when it pleased Him to subject a loved and loving child of His to so much grief and suffering, no human thought can divine. But this lesson was most impressively taught every one who saw her in her affliction, and could read the instruction,—namely, the all-sufficiency of the grace of God to give strength and comfort in the extremest exigency of human nature. The same grace that sustained the martyr on the rack, or in the fire, sustained her in the long-protracted ordeal. Not only did she endure the suffering, she endured it

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