LAST ILLNESS AND PEACEFUL DEATH OF

ELIZABETH DAINTON,

OF TROWBRIDGE, WHO DIED JANUARY 17, 1868, AGED SIXTEEN YEARS AND NINE MONTHS, AFTER A SHORT BUT SEVERE SUFFERING FROM FEVER.

SHE was for many years a scholar in the Zion Sunday-school. She was taken ill January 1st, and almost from the commencement of her illness, she said she should never get well again, which caused her great distress of mind.

On January 8 her father saw her crying, and asked her what was the matter; she told him she should never get about again. He told her he hoped she would, but asked her what would become of her if she did not, and wished her to pray to the Lord to forgive her sins and take her to heaven, if it was not His will to restore her.

Her father, who is a believer, felt much concerned about her, and was compelled again and again to earnestly cry to the Lord in prayer, that He would be pleased to restore her again or manifest Himself to her as her Saviour.

From the nature of her affliction she was not able to talk much, yet there is abundant cause for thankfulness to the dear Lord for the satisfactory testimony which may be gathered from the little she was at times enabled to say during the last three days of her life.

On or about January 10 she told her father she was sinking fast, and it was no use for the doctor to come to her again, and wished him not to leave her; but he was obliged to leave her to attend to his work.

Her father again asked her where she should go to if she died. She replied, apparently in great anguish of soul, "I shall go to the wicked place,

shall I not? But I don't want to go there; do pray for me, father." Her father told her he prayed for her every day. She said, "Do it now, father, aloud." He then prayed with her, but told her she must pray herself. She said, "I cannot, I don't know how to pray; I don't know anything about the Lord." He asked her if she had never prayed to the Lord. She said, "No, never." She was still in great distress of mind about her state, and was evidently afraid to say she had prayed, fearing she had not prayed aright. But from her general character, even from a child, it may be hoped she was not altogether a stranger to prayer; for a long time before she was taken ill, she was known to kneel down by herself to pray previous to going to bed at night, which was related to her father by a friend who sometimes slept with her.

Her father reminded her that she had been in the habit of praying before she went to bed at night. She told him that was not right (meaning she did not then pray aright). She said, "It seems that I shall not go to heaven if I die.” And again, she said, "It seems as if there is no heaven." Upon her father again speaking to her about prayer, and telling her it was not a multitude of words the Lord required, but the heart, she replied, "Even the prayers of a child are not heard excepting they are from the heart."

Her father asked her how it was she could not pray. She said, "I wish I could pray."

Her father then left her, and shortly after, she asked her mother if there was any heaven. Her mother told her there was, and asked her if she had not read about it. She said it seemed to her that there was no heaven, or if there was, that she should not go there.

Her brother, about fifteen years of age, then went into her room; she said to him, "George, how can I pray when I have been to hear so many times without paying any attention to the minister ?" A day or two after this, she said to her father, "I wish I was like you." He asked her if she would like for any one to come to see her. She said, "No, father, I could not talk to them."

On Sunday the 12th, a friend called to see her, but for some time she would not consent to be seen, saying she could not talk to her. After she had seen this friend, she said, "Mrs. A- came to see me because she thought I loved the Lord, but I do not."

Tuesday morning, Jan. 14. She looked quite calm and pleasant, and was evidently enjoying peace of mind, instead of the continual distress and bitter anguish of soul she had been passing through almost from the commencement of her illness respecting what would become of her immortal soul. Her father asked her how she was. She told him she was better. After this she did not appear to have any fears about death, but was too far exhausted to talk much.

Tuesday night she had a very bad night. Wednesday morning she was much worse. Her father told her her time was short, and asked if she prayed to the Lord. She said, "Yes, and for poor father." He asked her what she asked the Lord to do for him? She said, "To take him home to glory." After this her mother heard her praying aloud. During the day she said, "I hope the Lord will give me patience." At another time, when in great agony, she said, "Did Christ, my Lord, suffer, and shall I repine ?" Shortly after this she said to her father, "Father, they served the dear Lord so dreadfully;" and again repeated

1

the words "so dreadful." During the night she
again said, "Did Christ, my Lord, suffer, and shall
I repine ? "
She also sang part of the hymn,
"Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah," &c.
Thursday she repeated part of the hymn,

Begone, unbelief,

My Saviour is near," &c.,

with portions of other hymns and passages of Scripture. About the middle of the day her father and mother were both with her. She told them "how much she loved them, and that they had done all they could for her," and kissed them both. Thursday night she was very restless all night. About three o'clock on Friday morning she sang one verse of the hymn,

"Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah," &c.

Soon after this she called for her mother, and about four o'clock her father was standing on one side of her bed, and her mother on the other. She took hold of their hands and placed them together. She was now too far exhausted to speak audibly, but her eyes were fixed upwards, and her lips moving; she was evidently praying for her father and mother. About five o'clock she very faintly repeated the verse

"There shall I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heavenly rest;

And not a wave of trouble roll

Across my peaceful breast."

After this she appeared to be in prayer, with her hands held up, and her eyes fixed upwards, she said, "Dear Jesus, raise me higher." About half an hour before she died she kissed the hand of a friend who was bathing her temples. About halfpast eight on Friday morning, Jan. 17, she closed

her eyes as calmly and quietly as if going to sleep, and her spirit took its flight.

The above was related to me by her father nearly a fortnight after her death, and is a brief outline of what the deceased experienced, as far as his memory would serve, no notes being taken at the time. J. L.

"DON'T SPEAK SO CROSS!"

"DON'T speak so cross!" said one little boy in the street to another. "Don't speak so cross- -there's no use in it!" We happened to be passing at the time, and hearing the injunction, or rather exhortation-for it was made in an exhortatory manner-we set the juvenile speaker down as an embryo philosopher, What more could Solomon have said on the occasion ? True, he has put it on record, that a "soft answer turneth away wrath;" and this being taken as true-and everybody knows it to be so, it is evidence in favour of the superiority of the law of kindness over that of wrath. But our young street philosopher said pretty much the same thing substantially, when he said, "Don't speak so cross; there's no use in it.” On the contrary, it invariably does much harm. Is a man angry ? it inflames his ire still more, and confirms in his enmity him who, by a kind word and a gentle and pleasing demeanour, might be converted into a friend. It is, in fact, an addition of fuel to the flame already kindled. And what do you gain by it? Nothing desirable, certainly, unless discord, strife, contention, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, be desirable. The boy spake the "words of truth and soberness when he said, "Don't speak so cross; there's no use in it."