sometimes of gratitude, to the Supreme Being. Now on a bed of sickness, and perhaps of death, being in a very precarious state, I feel confirmed in the assurance, that in mental silence only, is to be felt that peace and joy, and union with our Maker, which are, and ever will be, the christian's only hope and confidence in the solemn and certain hour of dissolution."

extremity of

My beloved sister was very ill and scarcely expected to survive during some part of the time she spent at the Hotwells; but before she left it, her health was again so far restored that she was able to ride ride out occasionally. Amongst her papers written about this time, are few lines expressive of her regret at leaving a place where many were cut off in their youth, and that "she was spared while others fell." She alludes to the her illness when she lay expecting death, at whose approach she smiled, for "his sting was gone:" her prospects were happy, and "full of hope." And in looking towards a further recovery from her indisposition, she anticipates being again embarked on the ocean of life and assailed by its storms, and expresses her confidence that, attended through all its perils by religion, "her anchor would at last be cast on Canaan's shore."

Sometime after leaving this place, the disorder under which she laboured was again observed to be advancing. Her disposition was so retired that little was known of the state of her mind, though enough remains of her memorandums to shew that mental conflicts and discouragements occasionally attended her for the trial of her faith in Him, whom she was ultimately enabled fully to rely on as her stay and support, her Comforter and Redeemer, her only hope of glory.

The following memorandum was found among the few of her papers that remain; for during the latter part of her illness, when her weakness was too great to admit of her carefully inspecting them, she burnt many which would doubtless have been interesting and valuable to her surviving friends.

"First Day Evening.

"I thought I had need to dread being left alone while the rest went to meeting, because I was not yet recovered from the painful depression of spirits, which every way overwhelmed me in the morning. When they were gone, I partly resolved on spending the time in writing, as that seemed likely to divert my attention from the very uncomfortable feelings

and reflections which had previously engaged it. I was looking over a paper of verses, when the church bell called me to devotion : I was unwilling to give way to the impressions which it excited, when a query arose in my mind whether I was giving the Supreme Being his due, in attempting or wishing to hurry over my devotions that I might enter on some engagement more trivial? The answer was negative I felt the duty painful though the bell had called my attention to it, but my feelings were so far influenced as to be brought into a sweet and holy calm: I gave myself up to it: mental stillness affords an opportunity for self-examination: I was consequently led to search my own heart, and to find out its wrong propensities. I felt condemned and confounded when I looked into its inmost recesses: I saw that self-love was sadly my actuating principle; I found that a spirit of pride was gaining the ascendancy over every finer feeling, and though it was in a great measure quelled, yet so much remained, as to deprive me of most of the sweetness I used to feel from the effects of religion. The indulgence from sickness has enervated my mind, and affliction so long protracted, I grieve to think has affected my natural temper. At times I have little to complain of in

this way; when my spirits are good, I can generally bear trifles with good humour, but of late, even trifles grieve and exacerbate me: yet I feel to-day since my retirement, that these shall not be noted down as sins: Heaven knows I have much to struggle with, and I believe mercifully pities my present condition. Sometimes when I am distressed I turn my mental eyes upwards, and feel that there is consolation to be found but to taste this, we must resign our natural wills: mine is strong, and I too often debar myself this blessing by centering as I do in temporal ones and allowing myself to be anxious about them: sometimes, I blush to say, I seem engrossed and fettered with them, and guided by folly; I do not feel that my principle of virtue is as strong as it should be; I am too much affected by circumstances, and sometimes lose my stay. I have before this been sensible that religion must be be the guard of moral goodness; now, keenly I feel, that mine is easily attacked in daily intercourse with others, and it is not proof against these attacks."

It was about two years after her visit to the Hotwells, that the complaint from which she was suffering, advanced so greatly, that hope of her eventual recovery was given up. During

the lapse of this time, she felt much consolation from religious meditation; and though her concern that those around her might be brought more seriously to consider their eternal interests, was well known to the several individuals of her family, yet she did not at this time express much with regard to the state of her own mind, or in the way of adIvice to them.

As her strength declined, and she was evidently approaching nearer to her solemn close, her desires for the everlasting welfare of her friends led her to disclose to them occasionally her views of the vanity of all sublunary things, and the incomparable importance of those which were to endure through all eternity, and to press on them to use diligence to make their calling and election sure. Her expressions on these occasions evince a lively solicitude, that the vanities and follies of the world might not have a place in the affectious of her relatives and connexions.

On the 9th of the 8th month, 1820, she said "Mother, I wish to explain more fully my answer to thee the other day, respecting the state of my mind.

About two weeks ago, I