And surely if love to his master brought him to the stake, the earthly flame did but purify, enlarge, and immortalize it, by introducing him to that land, where he displays his consummate excellencies and captivating charms without a veil. Well might the ancient church of God break out in melodious songs of praise, as she looked through the shades of night, and discerned his star in the east. Well might the hearts of the disciples, going to Emmaus, burn within them, as Jesus joined them, and poured his heavenly instructions and consolations into their listening minds. Well might the apestle Paul delight to rehearse his name again and again, and load it with encomiums; and, after all, could not honor, exalt and magnify him as he deserves. And well may angels and archangels fall obsequious at his feet, and render him the homage of their most cheerful obedience and acclamations of praise. "O how great is his goodness, and how great is his beauty." How stupendous his love, how glorious his person and character. Good night, my dear Betsy.

Monday, April 12. Your recent society has succeeded beyond my most sanguine expecta tions, and embraces a much larger sphere, than I had dared to anticipate. I do not think you will want for pecuniary aid; because it so deeply interests so many generous hearts. It is most astonishing that a taste for worthless superfluities and external decorations should so greatly prevail in the generality of females. How much more ornamental is a meek and quiet spirit, and modest apparel, in conjunction with good works. Methinks we should

*

grudge every cent expended in trifles, when there are so many ways of using property, by which we may do honor to our Christian profession, and glorify our heavenly Father. How much more satisfaction is there in visiting the afflicted cot of poverty, than in hours spent in the wearisome, criminal labors of the toilette, or nights of glittering ostentation, and infatu ated hilarity in the ball-room. O for hearts dilated with love to God, and benevolence to the whole human race. O for a just appreciation of the inestimable worth of moments, and a noble indifference to all the allurements and vanities of this lower world. O that our sex may arise to true dignity and substantial honor, and be illustrious for suavity of dispositions, feminine deportment, and deeds of piety and charity. Who does not pity Egypt's beautiful and dissolute Cleopatra, swallowing the costly pearl? Who does not benignantly wish she had possessed the beauties of the mind, and the sweet and amiable virtues and piety of the lady Jane Gray? Then would her name have appeared in the archives of history, not with the merited infamy now attached to it, but with a pure, and honorable, and dignified splendor. Who does not pity the numerous females of the present day, who, lost to the pleasures of literature, and the spiritual joys of religion, are grovelling in the eager pursuit of vanity, and "trifles lighter than air." O may a Rowe and a More ere long illumine this western world; and especially may thousands and tens of thousands forsake their worthless employments and pleasures, and,

with humble love and zeal, go "about doing good."

When you get near to God in prayer, O do not forget your unworthy correspondent, nor the dear destitute church in this place.

I am, my beloved Betsy, your most obliged and affectionate friend, FANNY.

Letter to Mrs. M. A. of Haverhill.

Beverly, April 9, 1813.

I FEAR it will be presumption in me, my dear Mrs. A. to address you; but the painful anxiety and tender feelings of my heart must be my apology. My particular object in writing is to request you to let me know soon, whether you have received letters from your much beloved and far distant daughter; and, if you have not, whether you can assign any reason for it. Whatever letters you may have at present, or in future, from her, and will be kind enough to transmit to me to peruse, shall be speedily returned; and I shall feel myself under very great obligations to you. I hardly dare to hope she will write to worthless me, tho I should value a few lines, written by her own dear hand, more than silver or gold. It is unnecessary to say, she was one of my first and best beloved friends. Attachments formed in youth, and when minds are religiously dis posed, are not easily broken. The affection that now animates my breast, shall never be eradicated but with death; nay, if ever I land on Canaan's peaceful shore, it shall glow with a purified, exalted, and immortal flame, where kindred spirits meet to part no more, and Jesus is all in all. Then the parting hand, the

last embrace, the heaving sigh, the falling tear, are known no more forever. May I meet thee there, my Harriet, and mingle beatific sympathies and praises, where our souls shall be cemented together in the most ineffable, indissoluble bonds, and our humble voices unite with the musicians before the throne, în ascribing all glory and honor to the slain Lamb. Let this thought console our desponding hearts, my much loved Harriet, and stimulate us, not only to make our calling and election sure, but add new and continually increas ing lustre to that crown of glory, that fadeth not away. Yours is the privilege of moving in a very important and extensive sphere of usefulness, tho it is connected with complicated and manifold hardships, privations, and troubles. Your path may be strewed with bri. ers and thorns, which will not fail to lacerate the flesh, and wound your tender heart. But be of good cheer, you will also find here and there a cluster of the grapes of Eschol, and now and then you will enjoy a Bethel-season, and be rapt with a view of the glories of Tabor.* May your life glide peacefully and use. fully away, under the peculiar auspices of an ever present Friend; and may your setting sun be unobscured by a single cloud.

Tho

towering mountains, impervious forests, and mighty oceans, may part our mortal frames yet our mutual friendship shall still retain its vigor, and our souls shall have sweet inter views at the mercy-seat. And may the Holy Spirit there breathe on us the salubrious air of

Supposed to be the mount of transfiguration. See Mat. 17.

heaven, give us delightful antepasts of immor tal glory, and at length bring us to those happier climes, where amity and love are consummated, and eternized; where faith shall be superseded by vision, and hope by fruition; where the beauties and glories of Immanuel shall enamor every heart; and praises to his name harmoniously reverberate on every lip. Till then, adieu, my sister, friend of my soul.

Excuse, my dear Mrs. A. this rambling digression. I did not intend it, and had quite forgotten I was writing to her amiable mother. I have written her one letter, and fain would hope she has it. The emotions, which agitated my heart, and suffused my eyes in tears, while writing it, are not to be described. Imagination recalled to mind those scenes, "and joys departed ne'er to be returned," together with the painful event of our separation, and the idea that I must see her face no more till eternity opened its amazing prospects to our views, with many other considerations, all combined, and melted my obdurate heart into the most exquisite tenderness. I shall omit no opportuniv of writing, and wish there were more frequent conveyances of letters so her place of residence.

I fear, my dear Mrs. A. I have. awakened many painful feelings in your bosom, as well as in my own, by what I have written. If I have, do forgive my inadvertence, and resume peace and tranquillity.

Another subject, that lies much on my heart, is the reformation. Has it reached your parish? I hope you will have the joy to witness the wonders of conquering grace and almighty