Father CAN lengthen out the thread of my life, and restore that constitution which disease is gradually wasting away; but I think he is about to remove me. The loss of life, at such an early period of existence, and while the opening scenes around me present such a flattering prospect of happiness, is a loss which nothing can repair, but the hope of immortality; and that hope animates and sustains my spirit. It is true, I have my fears, but they bear a nearer resemblance to the thinly attenuated cloud of an April sky, which softens the bright radiance of the sun, without obscuring the lustre of its beams; rather than that palpable gloom which hovers over the face of nature as the thunder-storm arises, and which no light can penetrate. When I first saw the expectoration of the morning streaked with blood, I received a momentary shock, as I know that is a sure forerunner of my dissolution; and though I have now regained my usual composure, and can bend my imagination to the tomb in which I shall soon lay down in peaceful quietude, without being appalled by the terrors of death, yet I feel most exquisitely for those who may survive me. My Alfred is with me, and his kind attentions often, very often, depress me. He is still anticipating the day when he shall lead me to the altar; "but alas! fond youth, I am marked out as a victim for the grave! Yes! and though I feel I love thee, yet I must give thee up, and all the prospects which open before me on this side the tomb, to go and dwell with Him whom unseen I love!" But still I sometimes feel a clinging to life and all its strong endearments, which prevents me from cherishing those intense pantings after immortality I experienced in my former illness, when no silken cords bound me down to earth. I feign would live to be the help-mate of my dear Alfred; to share his sorrows and his joys; to encounter with him the rude storms which will blow over his path; and to cheer and animate him in the discharge of the arduous duties of his profession; but I believe the privilege and the honour is denied me. Thy will, O my Father, be done.

"But though I have received the sentence of death, I do not expect that it will be executed speedily. No! I shall not be taken till all are prepared to resign me; and till every tie is loosened which now fastens my af

fections to 'things seen and temporal.' This is a kind provision which onr heavenly Father usually makes to afford some alleviation to the sorrow of surviving friends; and to enable his children to retire from this vale of life, without throwing back any lingering desires for a longer continuance in it. I shall be led to the mount of translation, not dragged, and those on whom the painful ceremonies of preparation may devolve, will find as much complacency in the discharge of their solemn duties, before I am taken from them, as the venerable Patriarch experienced when treading in the heights of Moriah, with the instrument of sacrifice in his hand, to attest his entire submission to the will of the great Supreme.

"I have hitherto concealed from the eyes of others the most alarming symptoms of my complaint, nor have I yet given them an intimation of my own opinion; as I do not feel inclined to be at present the bearer of such heavy tidings. They still try to amuse me with the visions of futurity, and talk of a settlement, and its attendant excursions, and interchange of visits, as if length of days was appointed for me; and though I feel conscious that a few weeks, unless a miracle of mercy prevent, will change the theme of social tête-a-tête, yet I cannot bring my mind to the severe trial of attempting to banish it, for the more gloomy subject of death, and its accompanying solemnities.

"The pleasure which I have so long anticipated of being present at your nuptial festival, I now resign; yet not without a sigh-yet not without a tear. No! it is impossible! I still feel that I am an inhabitant of earth, still attached to its scenes and its society-still capable of pressing to the warm affections of my heart the friends I love still interested, and deeply interested, in all that deeply interests them. I have not yet lost my relish for the pure water which gushes out of the nether spring of social bliss. I still feel, and think, and talk, as one who holds in possession the inheritance of life; and though my lease is nearly up, yet, as I know not the month, or the year, when it will expire, I cannot neglect to cultivate its sacred fruits of friendship and dear esteem. I cannot refrain from sketching, on my imagination, when disengaged from my solemn musings, the scenes of future felicity which your eyes will behold, and your taste relish;

and though my pencil sometimes inadvertently touches the darkening mixture, which throws a shade on the picture, yet that circumstance brings it to a nearer resemblance to nature, than it would discover without it. May the God of all consolation be present at your marriage-feast, whenever that may take place, then this first dispensation of mercy will prove the precursor of many subsequent miracles of grace.

"I am happy to inform you, that my dear sister Emma is become decidedly pious. Her severe afflictions have had a good effect; and now, being mellowed and softened by their influence, she throws out the fine principles of the Christian character in all their attractive beauty. Her natural volatility is now become a chastened vivacity— her facetious humour into the sportive playfulness of a pure imagination; her love of display is exchanged for the grace of a dignified humility; and though we can trace the faint lines of sorrow in her countenance, yet she enjoys, in a very eminent degree, the sublime consolations of faith. Her health is extremely delicate, and though we all hope she will revive as the corn; and 'grow as the vine,' with her 'tender olive-branch flourishing round her table,' yet we rejoice with trembling. But all is well. When we meet in the presence of the Saviour, and partake of the fulness of joy, we shall not murmur on account of a premature removal from the inheritance which sin has defiled, to the possession of that which is pure, and which fadeth not away.' Jane is all we can wish her to be; but the cruel thief is about to steal this tender lamb from my father's bosom, so that his fold will soon be nearly deserted. Dear honoured Parents, may you be prepared for the trials which still await you; and may your latter end be peace!

"I need not say how much I should enjoy your company at Dawlish, if you could make it convenient to pay us a visit; but as that is too great an indulgence for me to expect, you will not refuse me the gratification of hearing from you as soon as possible. You will remember me, with every expression of kindness to your Papa and Mama; but especially when bending your knee before the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. "I am, your's, most affectionately,

66 LOUISA."

"She rode there and back in a one-horse chaise, and cautiously avoided running any risk, either by too much exertion, or by any exposure to damps or cold; yet, when she rose in the morning, she felt the symptoms of her complaint returning upon her with increasing violence."

Page 6.

London:

"Then welcome, Death! thy dreaded harbingers
Age and disease; disease, though long my guest:
That plucks my nerves, those tender strings of life;
Which, pluck'd a little more, will toll the bell
That calls my few friends to my funeral;
Where feeble nature drops perhaps a tear,
While reason and religion, better taught,
Congratulate the dead, and crown his tomb
With wreath triumphant."

"MY DEAR Louisa,

YOUNG.

"I RECEIVED your's of the 15th, but it is not possible for me to describe the impressions which it produced on my mind. alternately wept tears of sorrow and of joy; and though that overpowering excitement, which I felt on its first perusal, has somewhat subsided, yet I feel almost incapable of replying. And is the wise Disposer of all events about to remove you from amongst us, and to transplant you into the celestial paradise, where the trees of righteousness will flourish in undecaying vigour for ever? And have you, at such a comparatively early period of the spiritual contest, fought the good fight of faith; and gained the crown of righteousness which fadeth not away? If so, I will say, 'happy, thrice happy saint!' thou art highly favoured of the Lord! While a more lengthened course is left for us to run; while a more stubborn contest is left for us to sustain; while a darker and more tempestuous scene is left for us to pass through, before we can gain an admission into the joy of our Lord, you are singled out by him to overstep the grave, and enter into life,' almost as soon as you are called to gird on the armour of righteousness. Happy, thrice happy saint! but greater bliss awaits you. Yes, you will soon see the King in his beauty! You will soon mingle your notes of praise with the multitude around his throne! You will soon partake of the fulness of joy, which the spirits of the just made perfect partici pate! You will soon look down from the heights of