truly say, 'My beloved is mine, and I am His.' Thus I continued till the following Tuesday; and as I did not get up that morning till eleven o'clock, I had plenty of time to talk to my Father in secret. I lay there in secret with my Father, telling Him all my heart, and receiving His precious answers."

She remarks in another letter: "I must tell you more of the Lord's dealings with me; for, continuing to get weaker every day, I had lost the use of my legs and hands; but I cared very little about it, for I had the presence of Jesus, and I longed to be gone to worship Him without interruption. I quite thought I should die; mother sent word to all my sisters for all to come and see me the next Sunday. But I did not like the doctor at all, because he told me I should get better, and I must not think about dying. He did not really think I should get better; he only said so because he did not like to tell the truth."

A friend asked her what she wished to die for; when she replied, "To see Jesus;" but said she felt willing to wait the Lord's time. She had been anxious to have sung that hymn of Mr. Hart's—

"Mercy is welcome news indeed

To those who guilty stand," &c.

It was sung; when the friend said to her, "Why do you like that hymn ?" She answered, “Because it is like me. Oh!" she said, "how I will sing when I get to heaven." One night, her mother asked her if she should burn a light. "No," she replied, "the devil has no more power in the dark than in the light." She requested her love to be given to two little girls she knew in London; "And tell them," she said, "I shall die, aud go to my Father in peace.'

At one time she had a very sweet visit from the Lord, and told her mother that all the promises came again, "Is it not kind of the Lord," she said, "to bring the Word to me now I cannot read ?” her weakness then preventing it.

The writer of this saw her about six weeks previous to her death, when she talked very sweetly of the Lord's goodness to her; said she had lately passed through several days of darkness, but the Lord had again appeared, and dispelled all her fears. This passage of Scripture, she said, had been particularly blessed to her, and strengthened her: "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand" (John x. 27, 28). “I have had," she said, "these last four days, sweet peace." She conversed freely, and her countenance brightened with animation as she said, “Oh, sir, I have such a kind Father; He supplies all my wants and necessities, and talks with and comforts me." She then spoke with sweet composure of her approaching end, and said she longed at times to depart to be with Jesus, and see His dear face. A friend present said to her, "Why, Naomi, you seem to have no fear of death now;" when she replied, with her countenance beaming with delight, "Oh, no! the dear Lord has taken that away.'

Before parting with her, she said, "I have a favour to request of you, which is, will you kindly preach my funeral sermon when I am gone, in order to tell poor sinners, and the dear children who come to chapel, what great things the Lord has done for me. And, if it is God's will, I should like you to preach from these words, 'Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth

of God'" (Matt. iv. 4). It appears, when reading this part of God's Word, this text had been much blessed to her soul, and she felt it, she said, as a promise that the Lord would fulfil it in supplying her every want, both temporal and spiritual.

It appears, shortly after, that the Lord seemed to depart, and she was again bereft of that comfortable presence she had so much enjoyed; and Satan was permitted at times much to harass and distress her. At one time she said she thought He would never appear again, but yet could not altogether give up what she had known. Satan suggested that she never came right at first--that she had climbed over the wall, and got in the wrong way. Then she wished she had never said or written anything about herself. These temptations and sinkings lasted about a week, when the dear Lord graciously appeared, and brought sweet peace to her troubled heart. She then said several times, "I am sure I shall go to the Lord; I shall not be deceived; I know Him for myself." The Lord kept her now, for the most part, in sweet peace till her death, which was four weeks. She broke out once with animation, "I see Christ; He is so glorious; but I must die to get to Him—to see Him as He is;" and several times repeated, "How nice it will be to die and see Jesus." The last three days of her life she was much favoured. She had throughout her illness continually begged of the Lord to be with her in her last moments, which He graciously answered; for she was constantly, as far as her strength would permit during the last three days, blessing and praising the Lord; and once attempted to sing aloud, while dying

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow," &c.

She said to her dear mother on the Monday, only

two days before her death, " I have not had one pain too many; and the dear Lord has done all things right for me from my very birth."

When she was past speaking, her mother requested her, when she felt and knew that she was dying, to roll her head; and if she felt confident she was going to her God and Father, to roll her head. And as death approached, she looked at her mother, full of serenity and peace, and gently rolled her head twice, but motioned her mother not to speak or disturb her. And thus she died, without a groan or a struggle, on her birthday, just twelve years of age. Well may it be said, "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected praise."

IF I COULD ONLY SEE MY MOTHER.

"IF I could only see my mother!"

Again and again was that yearning cry repeated, "If I could only see my mother!"

The vessel rocked, and the waters, chased by a fresh wind, played musically against the side of the ship. The sailor, a second mate, quite youthful, lay in his narrow bed, his eyes glazing, his limbs stiffening, his breath failing. It was not pleasant to die thus in this shaking, plunging ship; but he seemed not to mind his bodily comfort; his eyes looked far away, and ever and anon broke forth that grieving cry, "If I could only see my mother!"

An old sailor sat by, the Bible in his hand, from which he had been reading. He bent above the young man, and asked him why he was so anxious to see the mother he had wilfully left.

"O! that's the reason," he cried, in anguish ;

"I've nearly broken her heart, and I can't die in peace. She was a good mother to me-O! so good a mother; she bore everything from her wild boy, and once she said, 'My son, when you come to die you will remember all this.' O! if I could only see my mother."

He never saw his mother. He died with the yearning cry upon his lips, as many a one has died who slighted the mother who loved him.

OLD WINTER'S ARRIVAL.

OLD Winter came forth in his robe of white;
He sent the sweet flowers far out of sight;
He robbed the trees of their green leaves quite,
And froze the pond and the river.

He spoiled the butterfly's gauzy vest;

He ordered the birds not to build their nest;
He banished the frog to his four months' rest;
And he made all the children shiver.

Yet he did some good with his icy tread,
For he kept the corn-seeds warm in their bed;
He dried up the damp which the rain had spread,
And rendered the air more healthy.

He taught the boys to slide, and he flung
Rich Christmas gifts o'er the old and the young;
And when cries for food from the poor were wrung,
He opened the purse of the wealthy.

We like the Spring, with its fine, fresh air;
We like the Summer, with flowers so fair;
We like the fruits we in Autumn share,

And we like, too, old Winter's greeting:
His touch is cold, but his heart is warm;
So, though he may bring to us wind and storm,
We look with a smile on his well-known form,
And our's is a gladsome meeting.