picture I beheld on entering the sick chamber. Poor girl! I think I see her now lying on her bed, everything bespeaking comfort and cleanliness, with her Bible and hymn-books lying by her side, although she was too weak to look at them for more than a few minutes at a time. Her complexion was fair and clear, with the hectic flush peculiar to the last stages of this insidious disease. Brilliant in the extreme were her beautiful blue eyes, sweet smiles all the while playing over her face as she spoke of her "precious Jesus," and with such a subdued but solemn earnestness of look as nought but the power of Divine grace can produce. In a word, such was the ingenuousness of her manner, and the beautiful simplicity of her meek and child-like spirit, that one could not for a moment question the genuineness of her statements. "For me to live is Christ," said the laborious apostle of the Gentiles; and I am sure if dear Rebecca and the "beloved brother Paul" could have conversed together, they would have been of "one mind" concerning Jesus. Among other things, I asked her if she were always happy? "Oh! dear no," she replied, "for sometimes I call Him, but He gives me no answer." And then, with such a sweet, loving faltering in her voice, she added, "Ah! He seems to pass me by, and will not even look at me. But oh! I do so want Him. Oh! I do love Him so, but sometimes am so troubled lest He should not love me. But still

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"His love in times past forbids me to think
He'll leave me at last in trouble to sink.'

As this dear young saint poured forth the fulness of her soul, I felt such an influence of life and savour as no words can express. I said to her, "Do you find your heart get better, or how?"

Poor girl! she looked at me so earnestly, as though surprised at the remark, and replied, “I am nothing but sin--my heart is so wicked; and sometimes when I get looking at myself, and see how vile I am, I begin to despair; but when I think how great Jesus is, and of His precious blood to cleanse me, then my hope revives, and He makes me to feel His love again. But, oh! Satan does try to worry me, and tries to make me think Jesus will leave me at last; but no, He will not leave me, nor forsake me." Having read and prayed with her, I then took my leave, observing her lips moving in thankfulness and praise to the Lord for having heard her prayer in sending me to see her.

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Not many days after this interview she said to her kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. A., "I should so like to see Mr. B. once more before I die, for I was so comforted by his visit." Accordingly I saw her a second time, and found her much worse, i.e., weaker, and labouring for breath; but still there was the same placid countenance as before. After a few words had passed as to her health, she said, Ah, Satan was at me nearly all night, telling me you would not come, and that I was thinking more of the minister than of Jesus; and even if the minister does come you will not be able to speak to him, from darkness of mind and want of strength. Your time is nearly come, and you have been praying for your faith to get stronger as you got weaker, but you will see your faith fail, for Jesus will leave you, and how then will you do in dying? And then, having rested, she said, "But my dear Jesus did come again early this morning, and has been kind also to give me a little sleep. And now I am so glad you have come to see me." I said,

"You feel that you would rather go to Jesus than stay here, even if you could have all the comforts of health and the pleasures of this life but to be without Christ?" She raised her wasted arm, and, with a look of intense earnestness, she said, “It is Christ I want my precious Jesus; as to the world, I would spurn it from me." In a minute or two she added, “Oh! those dear hands of His, that were nailed to the cross for such a wretch as I! Oh ! if I could, I would sound the praises of my DEAR JESUS through all the earth. He is worthy to be praised." Much more of the same character might be given, but space forbids. Once more did I bow the knee in prayer with this choice saint, and then took my leave of her until, through grace, I see her at home on high. On Monday morning, April 26th, Mr. A. called and left a message for her, viz, that Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong would call in the afternoon and see her, having some good news to tell her. "Good news!" said Rebecca; "the only news that I want to hear is about my precious Jesus," However, in the afternoon the promised visit was paid, when her kind friends told her the news, viz., that they had felt constrained openly to "put on the Lord Jesus." "Oh! that is blessed news. I thank the Lord. Oh, how good He is !" exclaimed Rebecca. They then related to her some of their experience of the Lord's goodness and the joys of His great salvation, adding a line or two of that sweet hymn,

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"Why was I made to hear Thy voice," &c.,

when she called out, "Ah! that is what I have been shouting all the morning. Oh, why was 1 made to hear His voice ?"

A very nice dinner had been taken up to her,

but she refused to taste it, saying, "Jesus is my meat and drink." Mrs. A. said to her,

"If such the sweetness of the streams,

What must the fountain be?"

She threw up her emaciated hands, and exclaimed, "Ah! that glorious Fountain! how I long to drink of that glorious Fountain!" At another time she said to Mrs. A., "Satan has tried me sorely, saying that I think more of the gift than of the Giver, and that I have not come in by the Door;" but her faith enabled her to cling to the faithfulness of the Divine Promiser, for she added,—

"He'll not leave me at last in trouble to sink."

On Saturday evening, May 1st, Rebecca thought herself dying, and desired Mr. A. to be with her at the last, saying to him, "When I am gone, do let the people in Graffham know what a dear Saviour I have found." However, her time was not yet, for before going to the worship the next morning he called to see the dear girl, when she said, "I had hoped to have spent this Sabbath in heaven, but do hope I may not be impatient." Mr. A. then prayed with her, and, as he thought, took his final leave of her; but, as she lingered on until the following Wednesday, he saw her again, and was with about half an hour before her ransomed spirit her took its flight for the mansions in heaven. The following account of her last hours is given by her sister Susan :

Graffham, May 4th, 1869. When I reached home on Tuesday evening, after asking my dear sister how she was, mother began to inquire after my fellow-servants, and how I had left them all at Gravesend. I was

telling her, when she stopped me and said, “ Oh, talk to me of Jesus, my dear Jesus; I do love Him. I long to go home. I am afraid I shall be impatient." She repeated that sweet verse of which she was so fond

"I feel this mud-walled cottage shake,
And long to see it fall,

That I my willing flight may take
To Him who is my all."

Presently she said,

"My Saviour is near,

And for my relief will surely appear."

I said, "My dear, you can also say666 'With Christ in the vessel,

I'll smile at the storm,'

can you not?" "Yes," she said, "I can." I sat up all night with her, and was so pleased to hear her speak so sweetly of HER Jesus, as she called Him. She beckoned me to her, and said, "Do you think He'll leave me ?" I said, "No, my dear, I believe He will not, for whom once He loves He never leaves, but loves them to the end." "Oh, no!" she said, 66 never leave me, nor never forsake me. Do pray for me, that I may soon go home; I want to see my Jesus; I shall soon be in heaven. Oh, you don't know how I suffer. But what are my sufferings? Not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in me." I said, "I know, my dear, you do suffer, but you must wait until the Lord sees fit to release you; then you will join our dear father, I trust, and be free from all your sufferings; for there will be no more pain, no more death, and no more sin." She interrupted me, and exclaimed, "Yes, but I shall see my dear Jesus, that's the best." Oh, yes," I said,

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