OBITUARY.

The following is the narrative promised, page 417, Vol. II. The short preface which relates to Catherine's conduct, on her arrival in England, was written by the same Aunt who has recorded her dying exercises.

"W

HEN my niece Catherine came from India, she was little more than six years old. I soon discovered marks of grace and thoughtfulness in her, along with great sweetness and cheerfulness of disposition.

"The first request which she made to me was on the day after she landed, when in broken English she asked me- You teach me to pray? One little girl on board our ship could say prayers, but I could not. I only try, and say at night, O Lord! carry me safe to Europe country, and make me good woman-then I fall asleep.'

"She then said- Why my sister A- not here?' I answered, that she was dead-that God had taken her from this world. The recollection of the dear child I had so lately lost, made me shed tears. She directly said- Why you cry? You say God did take her; God can give good place for her.'

"During her education, I found that such books or conversation as made her most acquainted with God, were most acceptable to her. I saw with thankfulness the pleasure she had in her private duties, and in reading her Bible, especially after she had the advantage of hearing the Rev. Mr. JF, which was during the last three years and half of her life. During that time she regretted much when any thing prevented her being at Church; and used to beg that I would bring her home as much of the sermon as I could. These, and other circumstances, gave me a hope that a work of grace was not only begun in her, but was gradually advancing.

She was mercifully supported during the sickness, and at the death of her sister Margaret, which was a very great trial to her. By every means in her power she showed her beloved sister that she was willing to resign her to God. And she was enabled to do this, because she sought for help and strength where she could not seek them in vain. When I thanked her for her behaviour during so trying a scene, she said Not me, aunt, not me: that God who supported Margaret, supported me.'

"On my saying one day that I regretted to pass the chamber where the body of my dear niece was lying, without having time to go in; and asking her if she did not feel the same regret, she said, 'No, my aunt, I do not mind her poor dust. I love to think of her as an angel in heaven.'

"About four months after the death of her sister Margaret, she was taken ill; and as soon as I was sure of the nature of her disorder, I acquainted her with it. She had seen her sister carried on in one continued and unvarying sunshine of hope, peace, and cheerful resignation, to her last moments, when she left the world rejoicing in the prospect of heaven. Catherine felt not the same assurance. Her hope for a time secmed taken away; and her mind was filled with doubts and terrors. 'O,' said she, if I should be deceived in every thing at last! If when I die I lift up my eyes in hell, when it is too late for repentance!' The promises which she used to delight in, for a time lost their sweetness, and she could not ap propriate them to herself.

"Thus in tender mercy did God convince her, that she had yet deeper work to learn. In much love and pity He showed her, that she had relied too much on those duties which she had performed, and too little on him to whom they were paid. O, how bright does that grace and mercy shine, which drew aside the cloud that hung over her, and enabled her at length to say- I have car ried all my fears and cares to God, and he has turned them all into peace and joy.'

November 28th, 1802. "If ever mind was in heaven, while the body was on earth, it is my Catherine's. The most edifying sight VOL. II. No. II.

P

you can imagine, is our dear niece, in this her hour of trial! It is delightful to me to be beside her. No murmur-no complaint escapes her lips. If I pity her, and say My love, your cough is very bad to-day;' she will answer with a sweet smile-Fie, aunt, let us be thankful I have so little pain.' She is, indeed, in the hands of mercy, and strongly she expresses her sense of it. Desirous of a full submission to the will of God, and of a strong dependence on his precious promises, one or other of them is almost constantly in her mouth; particularly, Though your sins be as scarlet, yet shall they be white as snow, &c. He that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out. Casting all your care on God for He careth for you. Come unto me, all ye that are weary, &c.

"She will lift up her hand to me, (which is reduced to mere skin and bone,) and will say My flesh and my heart fail; but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.'

"Yet with all this reliance on the promises of God, she says she does not feel that strong and abiding assur ance of the pardon of her sins which she desires; but she says her trust in God's word increases daily. She often says to me 'O my aunt, what a God is mine! See how he comforts, strengthens, and supports me, a poor feeble creature. O bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. I wish every body would praise him; but every one knows not what a God of mercy he is. With what patience and mercy has he borne with my fifteen years of sin! And even now, when he lays his hand upon me, with what gentleness he does it! But you know, aunt, he carries the lambs in his bosom!

"She said to me the other day- O what a sinner have I been! How little have I profited by the means I have had; and how few have had such opportunities. Yet in his mercy he spares me. He does not snatch me away by a violent sudden death; he blesses me with a long sickness, and sanctifies it to me in answer to my prayers; and brings about me good and serious people, who greatly strengthen and assist me.'

“Thus strong, my dear sister, is the love, the faith, the humility of this young saint. I. can describe no

thing so sweet, so interesting, so like a mild setting sun, as her beautiful countenance. Every one who sees it is struck with it. All that sprightliness which we used to admire, is there; but so tempered, so softened, that it is not in my power to describe it; but it is most heavenly. Not one gloomy hour have I seen in her sick chamber; but a cheerfulness that shows her mind is at peace. When I watch her from week to week, from mom till night, I see her always the same. Her mind never loses sight of its great object. Joy, peace, hope, these and the like fruits of the spirit, are always visible. Not one complaint passes her lips. Prayer and praise occupy her whole mind. If any persons come in who introduce useless conversation, she regrets the loss of time, and will say when they are gone My time is almost done, I have no minutes now to waste; but I try to keep my heart and thoughts, whilst others are talking; for what is the world to me now! It is the prayer and desire of my heart, that all my thoughts may be of God, and with God. I wish to hear, or speak, of nothing else.'

She has looked over all her little valuables, and has given to each of her young friends, and to the servants, a pocket-book, or some little thing, as a token of her love.

"She said to me last night, when suffering greatlyO, my aunt, that my patience may last! What a sad thing it will be, if, after all I have said to my God, of my desire to submit to Him in all things-of my willingness to bear whatever he sees good to lay upon me-my wish that He should purge my heart from every thing that would oppose him-If, after all, I should be fretful and complain-O, what a dreadful thing would that he! But my prayer, my constant prayer shall be, O suffer me not at last, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.' December 26th.

"The last week has brought my dear niece a great way on her journey. Amongst the greatest of God's mercies she reckons her long sickness, now near eleven months. But what is become of her love of life, her uncommon dread of death? Let her own sweet words answer. O, my aunt, how my God answers all my prayers. I carried all my fears and cares to him, and He has turned them all into peace and joy. I think the weaker I grow in body, the more my faith increases. How often

have I prayed for more faith, and see how all my prayers are answered.'

"The other evening, when I had been upon my knees, supporting her longer than usual, and found some difficulty in rising, she held out her hand to help me. I smiled at the offer, and said, I wish, my love, you were able, She answered-I wish I was-but, oh no, do not let me say that, for then, perhaps, I might not be in so good a way, and then I could not be happy.' Soon after she said— What a mercy is my death! Had I recovered my health perhaps I might have grown fond of the world. again, and have forgotten all my God's goodness to me."

"See, my dear sister, what Almighty grace can do! Not only is her great dread of dying taken away, but she is enabled to look upon death as a blessing, and does not even venture to wish for return of health, lest it should not be good for her, What an honour, (she said to me the other night, as I supported her in bed,) what an honour, for a poor thing like me to be taken to heaven, out of the way of sin and sorrow! To be clothed with my Redeemer's righteousness; for I have none of my own!' "She often speaks of the comfort of prayer. • How refreshed I feel, when I enjoy a little time in prayer, and carry all my cares to God!"

"About a fortnight ago she expressed a great wish to see the Rev. Mr. F- *. She said I find my strength is nearly gone. My time is almost done. I want to see him whilst I have any strength left to speak. I wish to tell him of all my God's goodness to me; and to thank him for all his prayers, and friendly visits; and to bid him farewell till we meet in heaven. When he came she expressed herself nearly in the same manner, and, after bidding him farewell, she said, But, Sir, if I should be mistaken, and should linger a little longer here, come and see me when I cannot speak, I can listen to your prayers.' As soon as he was gone, she said

Aunt, I am finely just now, give me my knitting; I will try to knit a little.' So undisturbing, so soothing, are such scenes to her! December 30th.

"From the accounts which I have sent you, my dear

• A minister whose labours had been of the greatest use to her, as already mentioned.