for me. Do try to leave me in His hands who knows what is best for me." In the evening some kind friends came and assisted in carrying her to the house we had taken; it was some distance, but the affair her father had arranged for her could be covered close all over the top and sides, to keep the air from her, and prevent any one seeing her; and I can truly say, if ever a feeling of real gratitude was felt to the Giver of all mercies, it was when we found we had arrived safely, and the dear child to all appearance had taken no harm. Her mother said, "My dear, this day surprises me." "Yes," she said, "it is another proof of His goodness. I felt sure all would be right. I wish I could always leave myself in His hands-it is right when I can. After a short time the family met together, each with thankful hearts to the Lord, and to offer their tribute of praise for His great goodness shown to them in so many ways during another day. They had, as was expected, a very restless night with her; she was very faint and low. The next day she said, "I am very thankful I am brought here; it will be so nice to be down-stairs with you all, and father will be with me more, We can be all together; that is what I like; and I think I dare not be moved any more: I dread the thoughts of it. I wish I were laying on my bed now, but I think I never shall again.” All tried to comfort her, by reminding her of the Lord's goodness in bringing her thus far, finding it best not to say too much to her about it until she was something better. She was extremely weak and low, and suffering much pain, but she took her food better, as she enjoyed what she had with her father better than what was prepared for her alone, if it were ever so nice. In about a week after she wished to try to write to her dear friend Mr. Clark, to tell him how good the dear Lord had been to her, so she had a slate so fixed that she could easily reach it, and wrote a few words at a time, as follows: : "Dear Friend,-When I tried to write before, I felt my mind much troubled; because of being removed, but the Lord hath again appeared for me, and hath helped me through it better than I could have expected, for I have had many fears. I felt afraid my foot should begin to bleed, and not stop; and I was afraid the water in my leg should rise, and that when I was laid down I might be gone; but the Lord can lift above the fear of blood and of death, for when the time came my fears all left me, and I felt to rest alone on Jesus, for I felt I had no other helper, and that He could give me strength, and on the 18th my father carried me down-stairs. My foot bled a great deal, but when I was laid down it stopped, and in the evening I was taken, and I had strength enough, but none to spare, for it was as if it would shake the breath out of my body; but, glory be to His holy name, He hath helped me safely through, and I am now as well as I was before my removal. My hand and foot are much the same. I have not been lifted on to my bedstead yet, but hope to be shortly. I must now conclude, for my arm aches. "I am, yours affectionately, "S. G." It was a fortnight before she could be removed to her bed; it made her very ill, as she was so weak from the loss of blood, and the water increased rapidly. Her stomach became too weak to retain a particle of food; all she could take was a little wine or milk. One night she said, "I think my pains will soon be over; the time of my departure is nearly come; but the thought that when I leave you I shall be for ever with Christ, my Saviour, lifts me above the pains of this body of corruption." I said, “Is it not the greatest of all blessings to feel Christ precious, and to say and feel 'He is your Saviour ?" She said, "Yes, I can truly say, 'Other refuge have I none,' neither do I want any other." Afterwards, speaking of ministers, she said, "I hope my minister will have something to say to me next week." Her mother said, "Do you hope Mr. C- will answer your letter ?" She said, "Yes; but I mean Mr. S. I sometimes ask the Lord to give him something to put in The Little Gleaner for me;* he knows all about me, and he can speak to me as well that way as if I were sitting in a chapel. That is why I always look first when I have my Gleaner to see what the Editor says; and I have often been so comforted from what I have found there, that I feel I cannot help loving him for his kindness to children, and I may say to me, though it is the Lord that makes him useful, and instructs him what to write, because he knows nothing of me; but it is another proof that the Lord answers our poor prayers." During the last three months of her life she had fits; they came on about four o'clock in the morning. A short time previous she would fall into a sound sleep, and all that could possibly be done would not prevent it. She would say, "Talk to me, or read to me, or anything, so that I don't go to sleep." But it seemed impossible. She knew nothing of them at the time, but they made her very ill after wards. She was now sinking fast, but was resting alone on Jesus. Hers was not a triumphant deathbed. No excessive joys were manifested there, but a quiet waiting till the dear Lord should see fit to call her from this tenement of corruption to inherit immortal glory, to see Him face to face whom We hope there are many *This is great encouragement to us. praying for us. Brethren, pray for us.-ED, having not seen she loved. Shortly before she died she had a fit which appeared worse than any she had had previously, and seeing her parents and sisters weeping round her bed, expecting the last trying moments were near, she looked at them, and said, "Oh, this has been the worst I have ever had; but I shall have three more, and that will be just enough.” Her mother said, "Enough! for what, my dear?" She said, "To take me home to my Father." And after that she had three more. During the Saturday night previous to her death a great change took place; her agony seemed intense, and she became very restless, all the time wanting something, but did not appear to know what, and her mind did not seem quite so comfortable. The restlessness continued through Sunday, all the time wishing her pillows, or the clothes, or something moved. In the afternoon, her father, standing by, said, “Oh that I had wings like a dove, then would I fly away and be at rest." She looked earnestly in his face, and said, “Yes, father, that I would; that is what I want." He afterwards read that hymn to her commencing "Death is no more a frightful foe, Since I with Christ shall reign; For me to die is gain;" when she looked up in his face, and said with great emphasis, "Yes, it will be gain, father—it will be gain to me." She was too weak to say much. Her father read and talked to her, and she seemed a little more composed, as she always loved him to be with her from the commencement of her illness. During Sunday night she became quite insensible, and remained so until about four o'clock on Monday, when she seemed all at once to arouse, and asked for her father. She said she wanted to say something to him. She seemed very comfortable for a few minutes, but before her father arrived her senses seemed quite gone again. She did not know him when he came, and before night her sight and hearing were both gone. During the evening she was continually calling for her father, mother, and sisters, separately, and crying because she thought them so unkind, as she said, to leave her then, when she was so ill, though they were all there and answering her, and through the night it was really fearful to be with her. She |