tenderness, to beseech him to unite in her dying prayer for mercy. Indeed, her conduct to him is not the least striking evidence of her change of mind. In the conversations I have heard between them, she takes so much of the blame for all that is past upon herself, that I should never have suspected his misconduct but from the accounts of their friends. But there are other circumstances, no less decisive to my mind, of her sincerity. I observe, for instance, that, far from the sense of her offences being a mere transient emotion, she rarely speaks of them without a blush. And as she feels the colour thus rush unbidden into her cheek, I have heard her say more than once, Oh! how sin comes up in one's face!'- Another very satisfactory feature in her religion is her extraordinary tenderness for the souls of others. She sends for all her young friends, and, in the most solemn and touching manner, warns them of her past errors, and tells them of her present

happiness. And when a poor creature, whose offences were of a like kind with her own, chanced to settle in a cottage near her, I found she had crawled, though with much pain and risk, to the house, giving this reason for the undertaking, That any other visitor would be 'too good to speak to such a sinner. I can tell her,' she said, that I have been as guilty as herself; and that, since God has pardoned me, he will, if she seeks mercy, pardon her.' A part of this anxiety about others springs, I believe, from the extraordinary degree of emotion with which she regards that state of eternal punishment, on the very verge of which she conceives herself to have stood. One day, as I entered her room, she said, 'I have been longing, Sir, to see you. I have been reading in "the Book" of a man who enlarged his barns, and said to his soul, "Soul, take thine ease;" but a voice said to him, "This night thy soul is required of thee." Now, Sir, who required his soul?' I answered,

She

'God.' ' Then,' she said, that poor man was on the way to the bad place, I fear.' I fear he was,' I replied. Ah!' she said, 'I thought so!'-and the hectic of her cheek instantly changed to a deadly white.--I am delighted also to discover one other circumstance. is, as I said, full of peace and joy; but, then, her peace and joy are derived exclusively from one source. There is a picture in Scripture of which her state continually reminds me— -I mean that of the poor creature pressing through the crowd to touch the hem of our Lord's garment. Such, I may say, is the perpetual effort of her mind. She renounces all hopes of Heaven founded either on herself or any human means; and relies only on that virtue' which goes out of the great Physician,' to heal the deceased, and to save the guilty. When she partakes of the sacred rite which commemorates his death, such is the deep solemnity of her feelings, such her holy peace and joy, that you would think

she actually felt the presence of the Lord; and

that, in another instant, she would

spread her

wings, and flee away, and be at rest.'

"But, Sir, why do I continue to describe her, when you may judge of her for yourself? Pray come with me to the cottage. I think you will have no cause to regret the visit."

I need not tell the reader that I complied with the desire of the old clergyman; nor shall I dwell upon the scene to which I have already adverted; I will only say, that I did indeed there see how a Christian could die that I felt it impossible to continue a sceptic, when I marked in her countenance and language the power of religion that I can trace back to

that period a great change and improvement in my own character-that I discovered, even in the short time I spent by her dying bed, much evidence of the precision with which her pastor had described the source of her hopes and joys.

I perceived that no part of her happiness was gained by shutting her eyes upon her own guilt.

She remembered it she acknowledged itshe blushed for it.

she wept over it; but, then, she raised her eyes from herself to the cross of her Saviour, and seemed no longer either to fear or to doubt. It is said of a celebrated infidel, the motto of whose banner, in his crusade against Religion, was Ecrasez l'Infame,' that, on his dying bed, he conceived himself to be perpetually haunted by the terrific image of his bleeding Lord. That hallowed image seemed also to be present with her. But, far from shrinking from the vision, she appeared afraid of letting it go. Her eyes seemed sometimes to wander, as if in search of it; and then to rise to Heaven in gratitude for what she had seen. This sacred Name was ever on her lips; and, as my old friend afterwards told me, she died breathing out, in interrupted sentences, hat most solemn of all human supplications,