come acquainted with the writer. I promised the good old dairyman to attend on the Friday at the appointed hour; and after some more conversation respecting his own state under the present trial, he

went away.

He was a reverend old man: his furrowed cheeks, white locks, weeping eyes, bent shoulders, and feeble gait, were characteristic of the old pilgrim; and as he slowly departed supported by a stick, which seemed to have been the companion of many a long year, a train of reflections occurred which I retrace with emotion and pleasure.

At the appointed hour I arrived at the church, and after a little while, was summoned to meet at the church-yard gate a very decent funeral procession.--The aged parents, the brother and the sister, with other relatives, formed an affecting group. I was struck with the humble, pious, and pleasing countenance of the young woman from whom I received the letter. It bore the marks of great seriousness without affectation; and of much serenity, mingled with a glow of devotion.

After the service was concluded, I had a short conversation with the good old couple and their daughter. Her aspect and address were highly interesting. I promised to visit their cottage, and from that time became well acquainted with them.

She was rapidly on the decline. The pale wasting consumption, which is the Lord's instrument for removing so many thousands every year from the land of the living, made hasty strides on her constitution. The hollow eye, the distressing cough, and the often too flattering red in the middle of the cheek, foretold the approach of death.

She was happily made acquainted with the things which belong to her everlasting peace before the present disease had taken root in her constitution. My visits to her seemed rather to receive than to com

municate information. Her mind was abundantly stored with Divine truths, and her conversation was truly edifying. The recollection of it still produces a thankful sensation in my heart.

I one day received a short note to the following. effect:

DEAR SIR,

I should be very glad, if your convenience will allow, that you would come and see a poor unworthy sinner. My hour-glass is nearly run out, but I hope I can see Christ to be precious to my soul. Your conversation has often been blessed to me, and I now feel the need of it more than ever. My father and mother send their duty to you.

From your obedient, and unworthy servant,

ELIZABETH W

I obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my arrival at the dairyman's cottage, his wife opened the door. The tears streamed down her cheek, as she silently shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried to speak, but could not. I took her by the hand and said," My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wisdom and mercy directs." "Oh! my Bessy, my Bessy, my dear girl is so bad, Sir. What shall I do without my Bessy? I thought I should have gone first to the grave, but—” "But, the Lord sees good that before you die yourself, you should behold your child safe home to glory. Is there no mercy in this?" "Oh! dear Sir, I am very old, and very weak, and she is a dear child, the staff and prop of a poor old creature, as I am."

As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, supported in an arm-chair by pillows, with every mark of rapid decline and approaching death. She appeared to me within three or four weeks, at the furthest, from her end. A sweet smile of friendly complacency enlightened her pale countenance, as she said, "This is very kind indeed, Sir, to come so soon after I sent to you. You find me daily wasting away, and I cannot have long to continue here.

My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my weak heart, and, I trust, will be my portion for ever."

The conversation which follows, was occasionally interrupted by her cough and want of breath. Her tone of voice was clear, though feeble; her manner solemn and collected; and her eye, though more dim than formerly, by no means wanting in liveliness, as she spoke. I had frequently admired the superior language in which she expressed her ideas, as well as the scriptural consistency with which she communicated her thoughts. She had a good natural understanding; and grace, as is generally the case, had much improved it. On the present occasion I could not help thinking she was peculiarly favoured. The whole strength of grace and nature seemed to be in full and united exertion.

After taking my seat between the daughter and the mother, who occupied the other arm-chair, and fixed her fond eyes upon her child with great anxiety while we were conversing, I said to Elizabeth, "I hope you enjoy a sense of the Divine presence, and can rest upon him who has been with thee,' and has kept thee in all places whither thou hast gone,' and will bring thee into the land of pure delights, where saints immortal reign.' "Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been sometimes clouded, but I believe it has been partly owing to the great weak. ness and suffering of my bodily frame, and partly to the envy of my ghostly enemy, who wants to persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that I have been a self-deceiver." "And do you give way to his suggestions? Can you doubt amidst such numerous tokens of past and present mercy?"— No, Sir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a clear evidence of his love. I do not wish to add to my other sins, that of denying his manifest goodness to my soul. I would acknowledge it to his praise and VOL. IV.-No. VII.

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glory." "What is your present view of the state in which you were before he called you by his grace ?" "Sir, I was a proud, thoughtless girl, fond of dress and finery. I loved the world and the things that are in the world. I lived in service amongst worldly people, and never had the happiness of being in a family where worship was regarded, and the souls of the servants cared for, either by master or mistress. I went once on a Sunday to church, more to see and be seen, than to pray or hear the word of God. I thought I was quite good enough to be saved, and disliked, and often laughed at religious people. I was in great darkness. I knew nothing of the way of salvation. I never prayed, nor was sensible of the awful danger of a prayerless state. I wished to maintain the character of a good servant, and was much lifted up whenever I met with applause. I was tolerably moral and decent in my conduct, from motives of carnal and worldly policy; but I was a stranger to God and Christ. I neglected my soul, and had I died in such a state, hell must and would justly have been my portion." "How long is it since you first heard the sermon, which, through God's blessing, was the instrument of your conversion ?" "About five years ago." "How was it brought about?”

"It was reported that a Mr. J, who was detained by contrary winds from embarking on board ship as chaplain to a distant part of the world, was to preach at N church. The people called him ' a gospel preacher,' and some a methodist,' and advised me not to go, for fear he should turn my head with his strange notions. But curiosity, and an opportunity of appearing in a new gown, which I was very proud of, induced me to ask leave of my mistress to go. Indeed, Sir, I had no better motives than vanity and curiosity. Yet thus it pleased the Lord to order it for his own glory.

"I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd of people collected together. I often think of the contrary states of my mind during the former and latter part of the service. For a while, regardless of the worship of God, I looked around me, and was anxious to attract notice myself. My dress, like that of too many gay, vain, and silly servant girls, was much above my station, and very different from that which becomes an humble sinner, who has a modest sense of propriety and decency. The state of my mind was visible enough from the foolish finery of my apparel.

"At length the clergyman gave out his text: Be ye clothed with humility.' He drew a comparison between the clothing of the body with that of the soul. At a very early part of his discourse, I began to feel ashamed of my passion for fine dressing and apparel; but when he came to describe the garment of salvation with which a Christian is clothed, I felt a powerful discovery of the nakedness of my own soul. I saw that I had neither the humility mentioned in the text, nor any one part of the true Christian character. I looked at my gay dress, and blushed for shame on account of my pride. I looked at the Minister, and he seemed to be as a messenger sent to open my eyes. I looked at the congregation, and wondered whether any one else felt as I did. I looked at my heart, and it appeared full of iniquity. I trembled as he spoke, and yet I felt a great drawing of

heart to the words he uttered.

"He opened the riches of sovereign grace in God's method of saving the sinner. I was astonish. ed at what I had been doing all the days of my life. He described the meek, lowly, and humble example of Christ; I felt proud, lofty, vain, and self-conse quential. He represented Christ, as wisdom; I felt my ignorance. He held him forth as righteousness;' I was convinced of my own guilt. He proved