Soon after leaving school at Christmas, Kate had a severe cough and cold, and she desired to bave the advice of Dr. Marston, who was therefore sent for. On examination her lungs were found very much affected, and her illness soon issued in a very rapid consumption, and in her decease on the 24th of March, 1864, to the inexpressible grief of her parents and friends.

Anxious to elicit the state of her mind, the doctor asked her whether she had a good hope of going to be with Christ when she died. Her reply was simple and rather quaint:

"No, but I hope I shall have a good hope." On a subsequent visit he inquired whether she thought the Lord had given her a new heart, and pointed out the necessity of it. She said :

"No; but I desire one, and I do hope the Lord will give it me."

On a third visit he asked her whether she could say she loved the Saviour, when she replied:

Yes, I do, and I love my father and mother and sisters and brothers, and love them to be with me; but oh, I love my Saviour now more than them, and I long to go and dwell with Him."

Why do you love Him ?" said the doctor.

Oh, because He has given me a new heart, and died for such sinners as I am. Oh, how ignorant and evil I have been! but He died for sinners, and now I do love Him."

After this she told her parents she wished the doctor to come, not to heal her body, but to speak of Jesus and to pray for her. On this occasion she said :

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This sickness is not unto death," and when he reminded her that she could not live long, she said, "No." There was a meaning to those words. Once she said :*

"Call my brother Henry. He reads his Bible, and he can tell the meaning. The rest of you cannot, you have not read your Bibles, but I hope you will;" and then turning to her father, said, You will read it, and if you understand it and love God, I shall have two fathers in heaven, my heavenly Father and earthly one too."

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To hear and sing hymns and anticipate her decease was now her delight night and day. But the conflict was not over. Satan buffeted, doubts prevailed, and she was brought into deep distress of soul.

66 Oh my father and mother," she said, "I said to you I should soon be with Jesus, and now I fear that I am to be lost, and shall not see His smiling face." Waking up in the morning, she said, "I have been to-night between heaven and hell, but I have obtained the victory through the blood of the Lamb; my fears are gone, and I can sing again.

On the day of her decease she asked often whether if was twelve o'clock yet.

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'Are my legs cold ?" said she.

"Yes."

"Then I know I am dying. Mother, put your hand to my head: is it cold?"

So peacefully and joyfully she spoke of the person to lay her out; of her little books and her money, how to be given; entreated her parents, brothers, and sisters, not to weep for her; said, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly," and at a quarter-past twelve she slept in Jesus.

From a visit to her parents, Dr. Marston, and Miss C, I gathered up these particulars, and have related them as nearly as I can, in the hope that they may prove cheering words and quickening

words, by the Holy Spirit's might, to many, and that out of the mouths of others, young and thoughtless now, the Lord may ordain strength and perfect praise, and that this early death may be not merely a "sickness unto death," but that, in the case of the family left, my numerous grandchildren, and many who read this painful yet pleasing story, "for the glory of God, and that the Son of Man may be glorified thereby," as in John, the eleventh chapter. J. B. WALCOT.

RECOLLECTIONS

OF MY LATE DEAR FRIEND,

ELIZA SMITH, OF CAVENDISH. "Why should the wonders God hath wrought Be lost in silence and forgot ?"

TIME, how swiftly it flies! It is now sixteen years, within a month, since this dear child of God entered into rest; but her sayings, her Christianlike behaviour, and sincere humility, I cannot cease to remember with deep affection.

Eliza Smith was born March 5th, 1834. She was added to the outward church December 5th, 1847, just three months before she was fourteen years old.

The first time I met this dear child was when she was just thirteen years old. I little thought then that she was longing to be in the same state of soul in which I was; but so it was, as she afterwards told me. But I very soon after felt as if I deeply envied her. I had heard much about Eliza before I knew her, and, it being a pleasing

and interesting account that I had heard, I consequently felt a great desire to see her and to speak to her. I do not remember much of the first interview I had with her, but this I know, that I felt struck with her modest and orderly appearance, and I certainly felt my affections drawn out towards her in a moment; and that is more than I can say in every case, for there are some, even among the children of God, whom we cannot feel much attachment to, unless it is to the grace that is in them, while there are some whom I have no sooner known than I have loved with all my heart. Such was my feeling in the case of dear Eliza. She was possessed of a mind and discretion far above her years. She was not like a child, unless it was in simplicity, meekness, and tenderness of affection; and, being of a very dull temperament, she conducted herself with much sedateness. She could not bear to see levity and jesting in the people of God. I have heard her say, 'Oh, I cannot bear to see people laugh so much; it does look so bad in a professor." I have seen her sometimes smile, but I never saw her laugh heartily in my life. The gravity and sedateness of her manner as a Christian were such as you would not see excelled, nor often equalled, in persons who have been in the ways of God for forty years. She was of a very nervous constitution; at times, also, Satan tried her much; her mind being much exercised, kept her low. She said to me one day, “Oh, Satan does worry me so much, you cannot think! I cannot pray as I would; I dare not.

You know

I am no talker; I cannot tell out my feelings; I never say much to anybody. Poor Ann, you know, was no talker. If anybody asked her a question, she could scarcely give them an answer; and see how despised she was! Well, but what of that?

If Ann was no talker, she was a humble, holy walker, and died a most triumphant death, and that was everything."

I never had the shadow of a doubt about the safety of Eliza; but, as I always like to hear something of the first beginnings of a work of grace in the soul, I asked her one day, as I was walking with her, what were the means the Lord used in bringing her to Himself, and what were her first impressions, &c., relative to her state as a sinner; and she gave me the following account, which I give as nearly as possible in her own words :

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I was a scholar in the Sabbath school in our own village, and I believe I was rather a favourite in the school; but at length my mind began to feel in an unsettled state, and I felt as if I should like to hear Mr. Barnes. I went, and that night Mr. Barnes only took these two words for his text, Lord, save!' and, as soon as ever he had read the words, I felt in a way I could not express, and I wondered if ever I should be saved. I cried as if my heart would break. The next day, being Saturday, I hastened to get my work done, and when I had finished it I went out as if I were going to play; but I did not want to play. I took my little Bible with me, hiding it till I got away. I ran off as fast as ever I could, because I wanted to be alone. I went till I got into a field, and then I walked on slowly, and I took out my Bible; and, oh, I begged that I might find something suitable, and I said, 'O dear Lord, if I am Thine, do let me open on to something that may give me some encouragement to hope that I am Thy child!' I then opened my Bible, and my eyes fell on those words in the second of Solomon's Songs,Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.' And, oh, how sweet it was! and it seemed