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Title: fuchsia
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Title: fuchsia
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Table of Contents
    Front Matter
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Half Title
        Page 3
    Frontispiece
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
    Frontispiece
        Page 8
    Main
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
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Full Text













THE FUCHSIA.


Tfc




































~rw rpp~l *w P. Aloy
I. L pd











A



MEMOIR OF ELIZABETH --.


BY BBB BUNDAY-BOHOOL TUAGOX.

















w*Aa "a km wic mms aor wh- asm a





PHILADELPHIA:
AMERICAN BUNDAY-80HOOL UNION,

wn ear, uw Kumau -ragr Nr, as.
a ILI1III


m




















tri srebo m to fr af Ooormp ina Sh ywr IN, by tfh
AxmWoAN UDMLT-OMOOL USIOx,
ft do awift onesa at do alsh opnt stem Nmtam lhWM at











a bo abom m pubuo by do A na Bmywor, Uamo
wintbat mt ameita tr t COmnel a.t uMMiu uil sa, ec
smur.. m mbm, fion tie bumnrin woodgmo*int owuti*mel ,I.
pamit, -K, Comnr*geomaI poAel, PsubytmI aM, and "A
famet D-ah. Not mot than times d the membLm be of So
m- deamnouain, and O book be pblabHe to wMA op mso
brw at s Commie aai onld.









THE FUCHSIA.


I O in d had a fuoin, frail, delicate he
plant; but I had rooted, and ared it from a
Imall slip of a very choice variety, ad on that
account nurtured it with great care. I kept it
in a small pot in the window of my own room,
and consequently was enabled to watok ita
daily growth, which I did with mamd interee .
Almost contrary to my expectations, jt had
taken root, and showed signs of vegetatio,
but it had a blanched and sickly look. ,I
stem was so delicate that it would diop upo
the least eposure to the momm'a -0, a.4
any omiM ion to keep the euma miat a
would induce an appearance tmme .
et death.
sill I watched my little plan* s"uWl o
wondering what its end would ba
I would notice itfrail stem all
imebad tomobia the earth, but a.





TEI FUCHSIA


of water to the parched soil would invigorate
it again, give it new energy to pursue its
growth, and lend fresh beauty to its graceful
form.
At length, to my great astonishment, I per
ceived what appeared to be two little buds-
but I was in doubt at first, so small were they.
Tey were really buds however, and increased
in size rapidly, still partaking of the character
of the parent plant, in their delicacy and fra-
gility. The bright, deep, rich red, soon be-
came visible and then, one after another, the
petls unfolded, and soon, two very large,
. handsome blossoms adorned my little pet-plant
with uncommon beauty. It was truly a pio-
ture to behold; I never saw suh large, rich
blossom on a fuchsia before. It seemed
strsage that so very small a plant could pro-
dase ay thing so beautiful. aut is! I as the
blolbfJ faded, the plant faded also, and in a
ife da& my cherished faoheia was only a dead
stalk; for the leaves all fell off, and po ex-
pedient could restore any sign of life to it
afterwards. It was dead. All its strong
was exhausted in the effort which it la4 44ia
to blossom: and so having ~i6ed i'ti i






n 3 I I~- -- ------3.--,l -
fpm light and fte4ife, and was o more. I
see sorry when my otohasi died, and often,
very often, have my thoughts been recalled to
it since, when I hav seen any thing that was
lovely or fair vanish suddenly from earth.
:-- 9
SI think I shall not soon forget my first class
in the Sunday-school, when I entered upon
my duties as teacher. It seemed a trying oo-
cupation to me then, and I felt strangely diffi
dent as I' took my seat in the midst of an
intelligent-looking group of girls, and the im-
pression came upon my heart that I was indeed
appointed to be their guide and instretress
in spiritual things,-that it was my offie to
"Alan to bright worlds, sad lmd t1 way."
As I surveyed the circle aound me, my eye
ested, I remember, upon me of my youethld
scholars with peculiar interest. She was in
mournig, and her pale, sweet face wore such
a look as morrow might have left there. It4
not my design to give any detailed descripto
of the other members of mygheia T. one
soly, (the subject of this little ketdh) we"M







already alluded. Her name was EliEabeth
E--. We soon became interested in each
other, and together we learned of Jesus. We
read and studied his gospel; and her gentle
voice, as she replied to my various queries,
always sounded unspeakably sweet to my ear.
Each returning Sabbath found her in her
place, and deepened my interest in her. She
was too diffident to converse with me freely on
the subject of personal religion, and yet I
soon had my reasons for supposing that she
was interested in the great matter of her
soul's welfare. Her eyes would fill with tears
when the love of Christ, and the blessed re-
ward of immortality in reserve for His true
followers, were the themes of our meditation-
and she would listen to all that was said; as
if in some sort impressed with a see of the
saredneis and value of God's most holy word.
Her lesson was always committed thoroughly,
and when it required the looking out of parallel
passages, these also she would learn, with so
much correctness as to prove that her lesson
and her tetoer were thought upon during the
days of the week. ,






I soo learned the parteap e of her fam y,
sad the fact that a few months before be had
lost an older sister by oossumption. Her
father was chief mate of a merchant vesel
which sailed from P--, a considerable sea
port in the south of England, near which I
resided, and in which was lisabeth's home.$
His wages in this capacity, together with his
wife's activity in the use of her needle at
home, supported the family in comfort.

During the first few visits which I made in
the family of Mrs. E--, I found them very
pleasantly situated, and with such an amount
of comfort about them as showed that po-
verty's stern presence had not invaded their
dwelling. Mrs. E---, at this time, was not
OCristian. She had buried one fair dnghter,
but the ffliction had not, as it appeared, pro.
duoed *ay suitable impression upon her; aad
in reply to the question, Was your daughter
a Christian ?" the ready answer ame, amidst a
profusion of tears, the tribute of maMraa
sorrow:
( Oh, she was always a good l4 '
al .w '


"m "





= 1UOHmQB


seemed ever so quiet and loving. I have no
fear that she is not happy."
She spoke as a mother, it may be, but not
as the disciple of Jesus; and as we continued
to talk together about her affliction, I found that
she'rather murmured at, than acquiesced in,
*the Divine providence that had taken her child
away.
She had other interesting children around
her, including my sweet scholar Elizabeth, and
I felt anxious on their account that Mrs. E---
should possess clearer views and a deeper feel-
ing on the all-important subjects of Christ and
hus salvation.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth continued her stated
attendance at the Sabbath-school, and evi-
dently with an increasing interest in it. She
was never absent from her place, and her at-
tention to the instructions which she there re-
ceived was earnest and unwearied.
We had a noble school, consisting of nearly
five hundred scholars, who always assembled
for instruction twice on. the Sabbath, before
both the morning and afternoon services, the
latter service commencing at three lookoo.





WU xUvLJJ


AuJ vFTMUASr 9FALWma vA miW m-
ways performed in a spacious hll,. where each
teacher stood at the head of his or her class,
during the prayer and singing. After which,
all filed off, in order, to their respective shoo-
rooms, to the number of four, Tis.: two rooms
for an upper and lower school of boys, anm
the same for the girls. These various halls of
instruction were all adjacent to the church,
and at the ringing of a bell in each room, at
the appointed time, the various schools closed,
and all, both teachers and scholars, proceeded.
from their appropriate rooms to the street,
where a long and regular prooeasion was formed
to the large entrance-door at one end of the
house of worship, in the spacious gallery of
which the scholars all mst during Divine ser-
vioe, with a portion of their teachers, who took
tarns in -perintending their behaviour during
worship. In every department of the shol
the most thorough discipline and order wer
maintained. The superintendent undertook
the examination of the lower schools, talg
a portion of the classes each abbath; while
the pastor examined the upper schools, takig
six or eight classes at once, who with their





xii nveasI


teacher, (a. their turn came round,) adjourned
from the school-room to a large room adjoin-
ing the church, where the scholars attended a
close cateohetical exercise upon the lesson
which they had studied for the three previous
Sabbaths. The church and congregation were
to large that we had two pastors, one an el-
derly, the other a young man. Thus, an ad-
mirable opportunity was furnished to our
younger pastor for faithful catechetical instruo-
tion to the children of his charge; and very
pleasant those seasons of examination were,
both to teachers and scholars, as I can abun-
dantly testify. They proved a stimulus to
both, to be diligent in the discharge of their
duty, and kindled a spirit of laudable ambi-
tion among the scholars to acquit themselves
creditably.
By this arrangement, it will be perceived,
alihd a long period allowed us for the study
of one lesson, especially as we met twice on
every Sabbath; still, as by this system the
close reearoh, investigation and learning of
Scripture were ensured, it was doubtless ad
vantageous.





W- amua.


We had no library connected with our
school; consequently, the teachers wold fre-
quently take such books as they deemed uit-
able, to read to their classes in the afternoons;
and it was on an occasion of this kind, while
reading the most affecting portion of the
"Dairyman's Daughter" to my class, that
suddenly had my attention arrested by Eliza-
beth, who gently touched my arm, and beg-
ged me to desist from reading farther. I
noticed that her eyes were blinded by her fast
falling tears, and her voice choked by deep
emotion.
Indeed," she said, "I cannot bear to hear
that read. I am sorry, but I cannot help it."
I immediately closed the book, and tuning
my attention to the other scholars, endea-
voured to impress upon their minds the in-
portance and the beauty of early piety. Elia-
beth continued to weep through the remain-
der of the school-session; and I did not at-
tempt to address myself to her, for fear of in-
reasing her emotion.
I did not think then, what I have thought
and known since respecting her feelings.
,Dar child I God had probably given to her







to see, in the case of Elisabeth Walbridge,
something typical of her own history.
I had frequently noticed a startling pal-
ness on Elisabeth's cheek, had observed also
an occasional cough, with an appearance of
languor; but in answer to my questions con-
1erning her health, she always answered, that
she was well; and as she was invariably in her
place, I felt little or no apprehension about
her. And so time passed, until on the arrival
of one bleak, chilly Sabbath, in the early part
of the year, I discovered, with pain and alarm,
that Elizabeth coughed considerably more than
usual, and the paleness of her countenance
and languor of manner were more apparent
than ever before. I remembered, with a feel.
ing almost of dismay, that her sister had been
the victim of consumption, and felt at once a
conviction that the days of Elisabeth were but
few. But the instruction of my class soon
occipied me so completely, that my apprehen-
sions gave place to other thoughts; and it was
not till I turned to Elisabeth, as usual, for
the recitation of her hymn, that my attention
was again painfully attracted to the fact that
she must be deidedly ilL. ah of my wuho


mee mwAmew.-





Mna im.


was aeoutomed to epe*t som hymn to m
during the Babbath, sad u I aqw allied upoa
Elisabeth, she responded without a moment's
delay. At this hour, I think, the impremion
made upon my mind by that recital is as ivid
as when I listened to it from her lipe. The
beautiful hymn she had chosen, I insert here
at length:-
Huten, 0 dnn, to be wii,
And stay not for to-morrow. ra;
Th oager Wlem ymo dei,
The hard is dr to b wns.
01 hautew mey to imlor,
And tay not for to-merow's sn;
Pr fear thy samn should be o'e
Bdfo tht evala s eouar be ru.
Haute, 0 inne, to rntr,
And stay not for to-mrrow' snm;
w fea r thy lamp kn faB to bsrM
Beklr th esMdt work Is dae.
Haute, 0 ner, to be blat,
Aa stay not for tofanrow's sm;
For her th em, rsshold the enrt
Before the morrow is ba.

It was the fnt tim that my attemtio was
vr oalld to these veres; and the deeply
m ma l mmir in whih llisabeth" ', etd





1 wBclMfA.


them, appeared not only to arrest my thoughts,
but those of the whole class. It seemed to
me almost as if her mind were filled with a
foreboding that she never might mingle with
us in such exercises again. There was some-
thing in the manner in which she repeated
* these lines that appeared literally to awe her
listeners, for they sat motionless, and with
their eyes riveted upon the face of their young
companion, as she spoke thus, for the first and
last time, this solemn note of warning in their
hearing. She evidently felt the import of
each word, and those who heard her, I am
sure, did also. Years have passed since I thus
first heard that hymn, and I have read, heard
and repeated it hundreds of times since, (it
may be,) but the memory of that first recital
clings to it still, and gives it an interest and
a charm that but few uninspired productions
possess for me.
On meeting with my class, as usual, on the
morning of the next Sabbath, I missed Elisa-
beth. I at first thought it possible that she
might have been detained, although she was
seldom if ever late; and that we should find
her in the school-room, on adjorning thither





M NIVWm


from the hall where the preliminary excise
took place. But she wu not their.
The afternoon school sembled: she was
still absent. It was so unusual an occurrene,
that, as a matter of course, my mind became
filled with distressing surmises about her.
health; and therefore, as early in the week as
I could, (for I lived between two and three
miles from the town of P--,) I went to
visit her, that I might learn the cause of her
absence. I found her seated on a low stool
by her mother, who, with the other girls, was
busily engaged in sewing. Elizabeth's pale
face flushed as she saw me, and with her
apology for non-attendance on the preceding
Sabbath, she expressed unfeigned sorrow for
such a necessity.
"Indeed, I felt so weak," she maid, "and
my cough was so bad, that mother was afraid
to have me go out, lest I should get worse;
but I hope to be out again next Sunday."
Sweet child! she little thought that she
never would mingle her praises with others
spen the Sabbath again, till she helped to
swell the note of praise to her BedWtr, ia
the eteral Sbbth of the skie. *





02 2B iracma .
On my next visit I found her much mort of
an invalid. She was confined to her bed; ter
cough had become much worse. And as I
watched her sweet face, that had lately looked
so pale, I was startled on perceiving the un-
equivocal hectic upon either cheek, telling its
tale of vain hope.
How many are brought to the grave each
year through the dreary pathway of consump-
tion! And how many histories might be written
of plans interrupted, earthly hopes crossed,
human friendships sundered, and household
'hearths invaded and made desolate, by this
fell destroyer I
I have seen the aged bow before its stroke;
the man of middle age also; the stern, the
strong, who marked its coming step, as yet all
unwearied with earth, and turned again and
again, as if to baffle and elude its dreaded,
yet sure approach. I have noted, too, how
hope will rise for ever, making the scarcely
perceptible increase of strength, or cessation
of pain, sure harbingers of health. And still
oftener, have I seen the young, with life's
joys, to their view all so gilded, lying right in
their pathway, and no cloud in the bright ho-





M rlaOurA.


rison of their future, compelled to relinquish
those joys untasted, and to have that fair
vision suddenly obscured by the deep terror of
death-and, it may be, the blackness of dark-
ness for ever. But never, save in the one case
of Elisabeth E--, have I traced so carefully
the stealthy progress of consumption in one
so young.
At first she expected to recover, and would
speak sanguinely of this, that, and the other
pleasant scheme to be carried out, when she
got better; and on my meeting her in my
visits, during the early part of her illness, she
would greet me with a smile, and, despite the
hollow cough which often interrupted our con-
versation, and the feverish flush which the
very least excitement brought to her cheek,
and the quick, short breathing which ever
came so sadly to my ear, she would say,
in answer to any inquiry after her health,
"Oh, I am much better this morning; I hope
soon to be well enough to get out again to
school and to church."
I think she had been thus detained in the
house by sickness three or four weeks, before
I had any spoial onvur stion with her es the







subject of her spiritual state. I believed
Elisabeth to be a child of God, from the in-
teroeurse which I had had with her as her
teacher, from her well-known love for all God's
ordinances and means of grace, from the
deep interest which she manifested in the
Sabbath-school, and from her uniform sweet-
ness and loveliness of deportment: but as she
was naturally timid, and so very reluctant to
speak of her own feelings, I had only on a few
occasions heard any thing from her, at all de-
scriptive of her real views. But as I became
persuaded that she would never recover, until
transplanted to a more congenial clime than
ours, beyond the regions of earth, where the
inhabitant shall no more say "I am sick," I
resolved, when, on calling one day, I learned
that her more alarming symptoms increased
rather than abated, that f would endeavour to
ascertain what her feelings really were, in
prospect of that great change which I now saw
to be inevitable.
She turned, and looked into my face with
an expression almost of joy upon her coun-
tenance, and one which I shall ever remem-
ber-- I asked, whether there was plemasr


TBI neOHrI.





*iU rwaaL.


c dread in her mind at the thought that sh
might never recover from her present ro k

"Oh, I am so glad," she rejoined, "that
rou have spoken to me upon that subject. I
Iave so much to my to you, but have always
elt so unwilling to speak. I have lain awake
rhole nights thinking upon death, and the
ong for-ever beyond it; repeating the pro.
nies of the gospel, and yet sometimes won-
lering if Christ really loved me as much. a I
wished him to love me."
"Do you then love Jesus, EliUabeth?" I
isked; "and, in prospect of death, could yon
-epoee entirely upon him, and feel no alarm
is your great change approached ?"
"Yes," she said, very deliberately. "I do
mow that I love him; and it is this know-
edge that drives my fear away; for when
leath rises to my view, as something gloomy
>r terrible, I think that my Saviour will bear
ne through all, because he has promised that
ie will; and then I take comfort, for I know
hat his promise are true."
"How do you know that you love him?" I
rather inquired, anxious to learn something





TI MumWaI.


more of her experience. She looked at me
with great earnestness, as she replied,-
"Whom have I in heaven but Christ? and
there is none upon earth that I desire beside
him."
4" And how long have you thus loved your
Redeemer, my dear Elizabeth?" I asked.
"Ever since you taught me to do so," was
her prompt 'reply. "I shall bless God for
ever for your kind instructions," she conti-
nued. "The Sabbath-school has been a blessed
place to me. I used to be indifferent to the
interests of my soul; and it was not till I en-
tered your class that I learned, for the first
time, what a sinner I was. My mother al-
ways called me a good girl, and, as I have
naturally a pretty good disposition, I fancied
that there could not be much that was wrong
about me. I did not feel then, as I have felt
since, that the heart is deceitful above all
things and desperately wicked; and that
theke must be a new heart given, before any
one can be a Christian. I never considered,
till I heard it from you, my dear kind teacher,
how hateful and terrible and cursed sin must
be, since it led to such a sacrifice as the lay.





M- 1UOAI.


ing down of the life of the Son of God. And
then it wu from you I herd, that no love
wu ever known, so great, so amazing, as that
shown by Christ for us, in being thus willing
to die for those who had so sinned against
God's holy law; and that all those who should
slight or reject this wondrous love would for
ever endure the wrath of the Lamb."
And was it low for the Saviour which led
you to his cross, Elisabeth?" I asked; "or
was it a fear of the sinner's punishment, that
induced you to seek this only means of pe-
don and salvation ?"
Oh, it was almost entirely the idea of his
amazing love and tenderness that drew me to
him. I felt as if I could not help giving him
my whole heart; and one Sabbath I remem-
ber, as you were talking to us in school, after
describing the obligation that the death of
Jesus laid upon us to love him and become
his disciples, you spoke of the asuranoes
which the gospel contains; that Christ bo
willing to save, that he seems to wat"h for
the slightest indications of a desire to love
him, in order that he may increase it, and ps
*ve us; and you quoted that beautiful tet,





TBl IWUML


'He will not break the bruised reed, nor
quench the smoking fla.' And then you re
peated another, which I have thought of again
and again since, with so much delight-' He
WAreI to be gracious.' The idea of Christ
condescending thus town such a sinner as I am,
quite overcame me; for I was conscious that
I had done nothing to deserve so much love.
But whenever I have felt myself ready to
despond, because I could not do any thing to
merit the favour of God,-for such a poor,
feeble, erring, ignorant creature as I am must
be unworthy in the eyes of the great and
Holy Being against whom I had uinned,-I
would think over your teachings about the
righteousness of my Saviour being reckoned
by a merciful God in plaee of my own, which,
at the very best, must, in his sight, appear but
as filthy rags. And often have my spirits
been raised and my heart refreshed by the
thought, that as long as I had faith to believe
that the righteousness of Christ was all-su
dent, I could pray with the blessed assurance
that I was accepted for the sake of that rght-
eousness. Oh, yes," she continued, "if I sa
his disciple, it is love for Jesus, booese he







anmt lored me, that has made m so. Will
you plee repeat to me my favourite hymnr
she asked.
And I did, at her request, reeite for )er-
ook of ag I left for me."
As I finished, she remarked with emphasis-
" Yes-how true it is-that
SNothing in my hand I bring,
simply to hi eres I ding.'"
Much more was said by both of us on thi
occasion, and truly interested was I to see this
dear child, hitherto so diffident, so rerve&-
suddenly become eloquent in disoooming spe
that mystery of love that had seesred saIva
tion for her. Before I ended my visit, she
begged me to pray with her, at the same tiee
requesting that her mother and sister might
be called in.
"Mother is not a Ohritian," she sid, ri-
ously, "and it troubles me. Wil. yeo pray
particularly for her and for my sisters 1"
The different members of the family being
collected, we kneeled around Elizabeth's bed,
and united in'a common supplication to the
Father of mercies for the needed gifts of his
r mea







As I took my leave, Mr.E--- acempanied
me, weeping, to the door:-"Elisabeth will
never get better, do you think she will, m'am ?"
Without waiting for my answer, she added,
"But I know she is prepared for death; for
the past few nights she has been unable to
sleep, and I really believe she spent the whole
time in prayer. She prayed for us all-for
her father, sway at sea, for her sisters, and
for me; and I heard her pray for you, too.
Oh, I am sure the dear child is a Christian;"
and her tears flowed afresh, as the mother
thus presented to my view these beautiful
evidences of her daughter's early piety.
I was at this time a youg and inexperi-
enoed Chritian. I had been but little more
than three years engaged as a Sunday-shool
teacher; and had never before been placed in
such cirumstances, or called to suoh a duty,
as I had that morning engaged in. In the
anticipation of such an exercise, I might pro-
bably have shrunk from it, with a feeling of
total incompetence for the work, but when I
heard the voice of my young pupil so elo-
quent in discourse upon the infinite love of
Jesus, I think I must have caught something





MIIU 001 7


of her *spi4 oratr "t dp" of thne Holy
Spirit of God working within he, for I found
it blessed and a pleasant thing thus to ad-
dres the throne of grace at Blizabeth's re-
quest.
On on6 oooasion of my visiting Eliabeth,
some little time subsequent to this, I found
the house, umualy se net and orderly in its
ppeurano, in a state of the greatest confe-
sion. Mrs. -- was in terms, and Bliabeth's
pushed oomtenanoe and ezeited looks beto-
kened that something of a unpleasmat natus
must have ooourred to them. I asked for an
explanation. As well as her fastlowing team
would permit, Mrs. -- eommunicated to e
the following partimlr.
Her husbead who, a we before hae re-
marked, wasu chief mate on board of a mer-
chant vesel belonging to that pert, was a
very intemperate man, and for some time
nat he had been in the habit of appropri-
ating meuh too large a hare of his wages
to himself, to the neglect of his family, who,
consequently, had been compelled to labour
themselves in various was, to enable them to





MI- IOMOM


illness, however had interfered wth their -.
bours, s well a added to their expenses; and
a the vessel had for some time been due, the
anxious family were in hopes that this time, on
his return, he would contribute his wages to
meet the wants of his family. What was
their grief, therefore, on receiving, in place of
their hoped-for supply, a brief note of inteli-
gence from the unhappy man, from a neigh-
bouring port, stating that his ship would stat
on another voyage before he oould possibly
visit home; and that he had soreely a penny
of his wages left, so, of course, he could send
nothing home to his wife; that his net voyage
would be arshort one, and tht he hoped to
send home something at the end of it.
Poor M~r I--I she had always bee a
somewhat proud woman; and now the idea o(
being redMeed below the level of some of her
neighbours pained her beyond expressio.
Their rent had been running on for some
time. Their landlord having been led to sup-
pose that he would surely be paid on B---'*
return, had not been very ipatiz t, but as he
was naturally a hard, and by no mmes, a ch
ans, he ad, in default of pqast, lerie





ins naMaI a
* ezestkio upon every artice of fur re
which the house contained; sd, at the tim
of my cal, a portion of the goods had already
been taken off for sale, which, of of course, or
counted for the disordered appearance which
the house presented, as well as for the tear
of the mother and children, and the fright-
ened looks of my beloved Elisabeth. I thiak
I shall never forget her as she looked that
morning. Having only seen her o sweet,
so calm, I had no idea that she aoenu be s
much excited. Inexpressibly beautiful she
looked, to be sure, but it seemed a supme
natural and unearthly beauty, the ffeet of
intere excitement upon her diseased and
emaoiated body. Her dak jety eyes had a
wild brilliay about the, and a deep fash
o heetio was centered upon each cheek, in
smmage contrast to the deth-like paleness of her
eom~i ion. Thedew stood upon her forehead,
and her dry, parched lips and hurried breath
Ing, all too surely indicated the presence of a
disease that was wearing her life away. As I
approahed her bed, she caught my hand aad
remarked,





-I nGMALA.


"This Is very, very sad isn't it and I m
the cause of it all"
Mrs. -- then eame forward, and made
some remark about her husband's conduct, is
terms of such harsh censure that Elisbeth
seemed shocked, and looking up said,
Oh, stay, mother I he is my father; let us
pray that God may change his heart. The
grace of God and the love of Christ may
save him yet. Let us pray for him. This is
only one of the trials whioh God sends in
his wisdom and mercy," she added, turning
to me.
She then handed me her little Bible, whikc
still lay upon her pillow, and asked me to
read the twelfth chapter of Hebrews; sad a
I read the first half of the chapter, she made
me go over and over again those eneooraging
words, till it seemed a if in her amee truly
increase of appetite had grown by what it
fed on."
Mrs. B-- informed me, as she accompanied
me out of the room on 'my taking leave, that
she had improved the opportunity on the pro
ceding night, after the sheriff's officers had left
her, of secreting a few things that, as she ow






pemed it, she "did want to srv." She had
supposed that Elisabeth was aleep--bt we
startled on hearing her call ot in an alarmed
tone, "Mother, mother, what is it you are
doing ?"
The mother tried to satisfy the child with.
mt an explanation, but again and again the
question csme, until at length more solemnly
urged-" Tell me, dear mother, what i that
you are doing."
Then," Mid Mrn.----, "I ndertook to
tell her."
"And is that right, mother?" she asked.
"Is there no harm in it at all? Then why do
you do it to-night Remember that as surely
as God is watching you, yoe will displease him
if this sinful. Are ou sure, mother, that it
is not wrong ?"
"And so she kept on," eoatinued the low
scrupulous parent; "until I did not dare to
touch a single thing, with the view of putting
it out of the way, that it may escape the no-
tioe of the officers; and till I was in bed, she
did not leave off wateing me, for fear that I
odwld do somethingwoag, as she eaexp ed it."
Hew muh was I Ieak and delighted 4





I- UOHRA


this manifestation of truth and rectitude is
my dear Elizabeth, so 7oung, yet so conscien.
tious I But she was near to her heavenly rest,
and it seemed as if already the purity of he.a
ven adorned her, that we of earth might be
able to form some idea, from the beauty of her
holiness, of what nature angels and "the spi-
rits of the jut made perfect" are.
I have before stated that I lived two or
three miles from the town of P--, and there-
fore could not visit Elisabeth as often as I
wished. It was in answer to a special request
that I made my next call. I found that the
house recently occupied by the E--'s had
been completely stripped of every thing by
their unfeeling landlord, and that the very bed
on which Elisabeth had lain was also taken. A
neighbour volunteered the temporary se of onm
of her rooms, and thither the poor suffering
invalid was borne at night, her wasted forn
being wrapped in blankets, (for she was toc
feeble to be dressed,) and lodged in a miserable
garret that 1hd been used previously as
lumber-room, while the afflited mother sough
a new sheter for her family. By this -oal
mity they wer plMned into the greatest dis





I NVViib


rem; ana my near u wM ama m, as A n-
held Elisabeth in her present forlern aeeam.
stances. All the little pleaMst eometrt of her
recent home were gone, and in a deeolate look*
ing apartment, that was literally bleaked up
J.ith rabbih, on a seemingly comfertle bed,
I now found her lying. As I entered, I aw
three of her Sunday-chool aesoiates staad.
ing by her bedside. They were all member of
my cla, and I was inexpresuibly interested as I
stood and surveyed the group. The apparently
adverse condition in which I beheld Biksbeth,
and the death-like wannes of her moet face
her evidently increased weaknem, sad the con
soiousneM of all she must have afered in
their recent trial, quite oerae me, ad for
some moments I oould not speak to her.
"Do not be distreed," she sMi. "I Ms
only the hand of my kind and lovg heanly
Weather in all my troubles, for thme. whom
the Lord loveth he chateneth.' I bI e nt
for the girls to come and see me this mornPg,
for I have many things to say to the, ad I
feel that I have not much more time le."
She gasped for breath-ead as I leaned me
er d kisedkhr, shewhiperad, "WilWyo .
A





s1- r QEUE


pray for them-for me-for us 1ll And I
did.. We all wept.
Elisabeth was more composed than the ret
of us; and as we rose from our knees she
smiled and said, Emily, Annie, and Ellen,
will you pray for me, when you pray for yours
selves ? Will you pray that Christ may sup-
port me to the very end; even through the
dark valley of the shadow of death?"
Those young companions did not speak, for
they could not. Grief would have choked any
utterance of their feelings, but they kissed
her in silence, ad, with full hearts and weep.
ing eyes, retired, leaving us alone.
"I am so glad to see you, so very glad,"
Eliabeth said, addressing me, as her friends
left her.-" Mother and the girls re so busy
in getting some other house ready, that they
are obliged to leave me alone a great deal; and
it seems very pleasant to have some friend
come in, and talk and pray with me, while
they are gone. Dear mother I she is very
kind to me-but I fear she loves me, better
than she loves God. O, how I wish I could
feel sure that she would meet me in heaven I"
Seeing that she had exhausted ,relf by






talking, I eed to her portds faee the weed
of God. Ithen spoketo besf a address th
had, on the previous Sabbath, bee delivered
to our whool. I told, amongst other thing,
of the speaker's having called the children's
attention to two little words which he wished
them always to consider the impertaoe of, o
that by their constant remembrano they ight
be led to the habitual praetio of th duty th
kept before their minds. The, i a solemn,
emphatic manner, he repeated three time in a
load voie, yet solemnly, the words, "Seua
prayer,"-"secret prayer,"-"se t praye."
I was struck by the uncommon interest whlie
she manifestd. Her coutensae bemod wit
tifahetion, ad smiling she Maid, "Y, I sa
nre that as good-that is the thing of a
others to bring one near to Christ, ad to keep
one there No one an be a CObritlabe -w
does not daly practice scret prayer. low
many things the real disiple of Jeas mst
have to ay to him oontinully, that must be
aid to him alone Still it is very difalt in
ths ad and busy world, to perform this duty
ithfully, s many this are always ooerrg
to prevent; yet where rdel loe for Christ ax-





Wm 1wlRmeL


ists, there will of core be found a perseveng
determination to overcome all obstacles, so that
they shall not be allowed to interfere with the
duty of daily seeret prayer. I do hope the
children will attend to that part of his advice."
I wu in the continual habit, in my weekly
visits to Elisabeth, of mentioning to her any
event of the preceding Sabbath that might in-
terest her; and at such times, as indeed always,
the earnestnes with which she interrogated
ae respecting the Sunday-echool, showed how
much te affections of her young heart were
bond up in it. I was constantly charged
with measn ge from her, to her olaMs-mtes;
and as I ecuted my commisions, it was
gratifying to notice the deep attention with
which they would listen to such messages.
liiabeth had away been a favorite in the
eldi, wan a they gave up all hope of ever
seeing her again in her aeoustomed plae
among them, sort of holy seriousness mingled
with their thoughts of her; and the feeling
was evidently entertained by each of them,
that the heaven-bound spirit of their gentle
associate. was soon to be separated from its
e.t& dwelba-eplac.




meems. a
The hohd&of th dear gir ae mt.hdmi
delining stbedily. B6 W" as istemsn at
completely weakened and euhaasted by he
congh a to be unable to speak adibly vbh
I called to ee her, but she would hand me her
little Bible, sad, by af mate sgnal, intimate her
desire to be refrshed from the fountain
God's ward.
Mn. B-- was not bong i obtaining man
comfortable lodging for lisaoth th he
f6zorn shelter anded ab their idigC t digb.
bour. Their now ramide6 e wasu hpblr,,
thinly, th their foaer ono ha bheq; ae4by
the as-iutnr of frien a aty ao-e *(
furniture wa promrerd by them, deie to
supply their immediate wae tbhy wee
all together ai, -Id to BiMabethtbs we
bloMing ad a privilege, wlhih mde thir
other trials see light to her. hortly aber
their establishment in their new abode, ia-
both's father returned hoe. Hoe oas wer
ably out of health, aM was ompelld to **-
fa himself chiey within doon, for P*o* tie
after his retn. Th. was a freeh trial r
th preoioiuly osited foaily, a%4 ipbthb,
a her low and wn i eimr sm&*k wMa4i





sof WWMWA


to feel every added afflition with peculiar
severity. Not that she repined, but her dis-
ease made her regard every little circumstance
of annoyance or trial as if it were caused in
some way by her sickness. And whilst she
reposed upon the Divine will with greater con-
fidence than any one whom I have ever known,
yet her sympathy for others made her seem
almost to regret that she should, in the midst
of family distress, be not only unable to
render assistance, but actually herself prove
a source of trial to those whose burdens she
would so joyfully have lightened. Her father's
return was not calculated by any means to
soothe Elisabeth's spirits, when thus nervously
excited. He had but little sympathy for his
family at any time, and the daily sight of his
yoang daughter, slowly, but surely advancing
towards the grave, tried his patience, and irri-
taed his temper.
Tek ehild would be better if she would do
this w that," was his frequent remark; or
"She never would have been so sick if she
had been more careful." His almost constant
presence in the siek-room, moreover, interfered
ma*tMiallv with Hliamhath's Amfart. h hen&n






6omplamen ; bat I weil ew teI tuS o m M
of her young friends were Iss frequent in
consequence, as they did not like the re-
straint imposed upon their convermtion by
his presence. But Elisabethi did not falter in
her duty to God, to her own soul, or to the
souls of others, by any such consideration.
Some of her most exalted and heavenly con-
verse was addressed to me, when her father
sat by, a silent, if not a willing listener. She
would frequently turn to him too, and address
him specially, on the need of immediate re
pentance, on the infinite love of Jess, on the
glories of that other and better world to whih
she was hastening; on the terrors of the wrath
to come; on the second death; on the awful
threats of God, jut as certainly true as re
his promises, that the soul that sinneth, is
shall die;--that without holiness, no man shall
see the Ibrd, and that he that believeth not
shall be damned. He would sit and listen to
his child in moody silence, as if it were an
irksome task, from which he could not escape;
but in process of time his health mended, and
a his vessel was ready, he again took leave of
his family for another voyage.


MW Nunn.






.uVu mw& bi uu ,m IruuUrY4
a somewhat new form, and she would lie for
hour. together, in a sort of stupor, from which
it was difficult to awaken her, and sometimes
when I called, she scarcely seemed to recog-
nise me for some minutes, although evidently
not asleep. He( mind doubtless was failing
with her body, but her faith was still strong;
the clear, bright hopes of the gospel sustained
her still-end when she was fully aroused, it
appeared as if in her interval of apparent
deadness to earth she must have been away,
obtaining glimpeesof the spirit-land, for there
would be evident about her a sort of celestial
joy and holy calmness that certainly were not
of earth. She ever appeared from this time
completely weaned from time and sense, except
as she improved each moment of her strength
in warning and counselling those whom she
was leaving. She was especially earnest in
the case of one of her sisters, younger than
herself, who was also in the Sunday-school.
She made a particular request of me to take
Mary Ann into my lass. "She would like
to be in your olas, I know," said Elisabeth,
"and as I have found it uh a blessed thing to


Immm,





THWnU fWVW W
be there, nmght she not also lnd it so Will yoa
promise totake her? There will be no objeotio
I think, on the prt of her present teacher."
I was humbled, I can truly msy, by this mani,
festation of God's goodness to me, from the
feeling that I had done no more for him, and
fo his case. If he would thus deign to
bless one feeble effort, surely I might with
reason hope that he would favour with suces
other like attempts to serve him. Why then
had I been so supine ? I need not say that
the consciousness of God's blesof on this, my
almost frst Christian effort, was a stimulus
me. Could it be otherwise ?
I never knew what was said or done in con-
nection with this request of Eliabeth's, but
one abbath, not long after it was mad the
superintendent of our school led Mary AnA
-- to my lass, and inquired if I would
not take her as my scholar. Of course I was
much gratified, and expressed my willingness
to do so. I number this among my most
pleasant Sabbath-school reminiscences.
During all the latter part of Elisabeth's 11-
ness, the visits of her young companies ware
frequent, and she would herself send to thqa,





Ta IUUCA.


at times, individually to come and see her,
when she felt that she had something partion-
larly important to sy to them. Her excuse
to them for having thus sent, was always,
either, "I did not know but death might take
me away before you would call again," or "I
feared if I did not speak to you while the sb-
ject was in my mind, that I should forget it,"
and then would follow words of persuasion or
warning, and the affectionate exhortation was
always received in the love with which it was
given. Like good seed upon good ground,
her admonitions have brought forth their fruits
to the glory of God, in some thirty, in some
sixty and in some an hundred fold.
She lay leg thus waiting for death. Iwellre-
member, ne. how she smiled as Intered, and
stretching out her thin, pale hand, remaked,
"I am till here you see. God, for some good
purpose I am sure, delays his messenger."
"You are ready whenever h sends, are
you? As the hour draws nearer, do you feel
no shrinking ?"
None."
I could no longer regard her as my beloved
scholar, whom to instruct in shared things, in




- MwAIM


put times, had been my pleasure ad my
privilege. She was now become, in har trn,
my instructress, sad a she addressed me often,
it was with no presmption, no want of respect,
but a high and holy dignity, derived from con-
stant and close communion with God. I often
wondered if the young saint upon that coach
of sickness-so bold, so faithful, so earnest in
the discharge of her duty a Christian, and
in the making full proof of her discipleship-
could be the retiring, timid, and reserved
Elisabeth E--, of former days.

It was now the rich and glorious rsummei
time. The English summer is in many -re-
spects a weaon of far more evoyment than
the summer of the United States, owing pri-
cipally to the fact that the heat is nois
intense, oonequently, there is maeh lew li-
ability to droughts. Vegetation retains its
freshness, and the leaves their hue of living
green, and give an appearance of perennial
verdure to the country.
It was on one of the loveliest days ever oe
ourring in such a summer, that I flt 4etdi
to pay my mant viit to E'libeo. "IA l"r





Tm neaUGA.


delightful walk of about an hour brought me
to Mrs. E--'s. I was much surprised on
entering, to find my steps directed to their lit-
tle parlour, instead of to Elizabeth's chamber,
as usual, but my surprise increased when I
beheld Elizabeth herself there, sitting up in
an easy chair by the table. She was supported
by pillows, and looked very, very pale and
thin. I had no idea before, that she wao so
greatly reduced. Still on seeing her in this
new position, and in another room, I considered
that she must feel better, and was beginning
to congratulate her upon this improvement in
her condition, but she shook her head, and
looked so grave that I was startled.
There is a greater change before me. I
am very near the end of my pilgrimage," she
said. "Do not all me better." She ceased,
for her voice failed her; she pointed to a beau-
tiful rose-bud in a glass of water, which stood
close beside her on the table. A friend had
that morning given it to her, and she had been
beading over it in admiration, for some time
before I entered. I admired the flower aad
remarked upon its beauty.
" s," abe sid, speaking louder, and in a







is when I heard her speak, "It is one at
God's beautiful gifts; lovely flower I it shall in
grease, but I must decrease." She spoke this
solemnly, and then reclining her head on the
back of her chair, closed her eyes, and became
silent.
I sat for some time, conversing with her
mother in a low tone, and from her I learned,
that in consequence of Elizabeth's extreme
restlessness and difficulty of breathing, whilt
she continued in bed, it had beyu suggested
that a sitting posture might aford her relief.
After a short time, I took my leave. Eli.
zabeth had not appeared conscious of the pre-
sepoe of any one in the room, from the time
when she sunk back in her chair, apparently
exhausted; and I did not wish to disturb her
repose by speaking to her; but I leaned over
her, to ascertain that she surely breathed. .
could hear the short, flttering breath, and
fancied that her lips moved, as if to speak the
words she had no strength to utter. I kissed
her pale forehead, and left her, to pursue my
homeward way.
I heard nothing more from the R-s,'4
I





dlU I V4MYWldI,


r.LUng MwU woM, auu Uu Tu a JLVb IOnc La U
morning I was rather later than usual at
school; and on entering, I found the whole
school assembled and the exercises commenced.
As I took my place at the head of my class,
I noticed that all my scholars were in attend-
ance and all in tears. I needed not that
any one should tell me that Elizabeth E--
was dead! Yes, she was gone, then, beyond
the reach of our care and of our love-the
places which had known her, would know her
no more for ever. Her voice, so often raised
in tones of warning or appeal, was hushed for
ever to earthly ears; but was now engaged,
together with the hosts of the redeemed, in
hymning their one glad song of grateful ado-
ration to God and the Lamb, in the heavenly
temple above.
I found, upon inquiry, that she had died on
,the morning of the next day after I had last
seen her, and was to be buried at the close of
the afternoon service-at which time her fune,
ral sermon was to be preached.
As soon as it was practicable, I left my class
-a sad and weeping group they were that day
-4nd hastened to the humble dwelling that





MA 1BMWWiWnk


was now no longer Bliabeth's home. As I
entered the chamber of death, the wesepi
mother and sisters came forward to greet me.
The coffin stood by the open window. How
beautiful the face of my departed pupil looked
to my eye, as I gased again and again, fixedly
and still, till tears blinded my vision! That
beautiful rose-bud, which had gladdened Eli.
beth so much at our last interview--now flly
blown,-lay upon her unoonsciom bosom. "It
had increased, but she had dereased." Yt
the earthly lower was destined to perish, while
the immortal part of the young Christian w
gone to bloom for ever in the paradise of God,
--a fair blosso of his grace. I learned frap
Mrs.E--- that the stupor which had seamd
to overtake Elisabeth, during my last visit, qw-
tinuedfor many hours; and that when she passed
eat of it, all was clear ad bright with her
Once her mother saw her lips move,-md
bent to catch the words, if words there were.
She heard the well-beloved name; the nae
which is above every name; the only name
under heaven, given among men whereby thy
must be saved-
"Jinr n JnaU."






58 TEN foOHSA.
'The moment of her death could not be dis-
tinguished.
"She, all so ner the throne,
In ithfit love had prert;
It needed but a whispered tone,
To oll her to her ret."
Elizabeth's funeral sermon was preached on
that Sabbath afternoon, by our younger pas-
tor, from the words, "Whom the Lord loveth
he chasteneth." They were chosen by her
during the early part of her sickness, when
her earthly trials had m6re power toldepress
her than they possessed subsequently, after
she had obtained clearer glimpses of the glo-
rious beauty of the upper sanctuary, and felt
how unimportant, in comparison, are all merely
human changes and events.

T& following brief memorandum was has
tily written on the evening after the funeral.
"'abbath Evening, June -, 18-. I have
this day attended the funeral of Elisabeth
E--, aged fourteen years and six months.
She died of consumption. Beautiful exceed-
ingly was she in face and form, and her voice
and manner so gentle that all hearts were won







by hen Her dlspoesioa too, as very Me~
But better than all this, more vaieaUe, adl
more ending far, wa te love, the fith, the
hope, which animated all her soul, ad rem
aered her a disciple indeed. Firm was he
trust in Christ her Saviour, and meet the
foretaste which she enjoyed of the heavenly
land. One felt, whilst by her dying bed, s
if standing on the very threhold of heave
I can remember, but not describe, her raptw
on mile, when she thought and spoke of he
premised ret. Bright sol I those a t gone i
Jesus; and thou doet sing his praises ina h
now happy home, amid marphia and chMse.
bim, and all the hosts of heaven I Lord, may
I die the death of the rigteous, ad mauy
lst end be like his."

It has been my happiess to imtot a*iSr
siderable number of interesting and beoveg
youth in the Sundayoohool, many of whom
have given satisfactory, and some very brni
evidence, that they have become partakers f
the eternal aviation, so freely offered by
Christ in his gospel.
. In little le than two yea after the dea&







of Bliabeth, I sailed from Bnglad for the
United States, and not the leat among the
trials which I experienced in leaving home,
was the saying Irn wzL I to those who had
become endeared to me in the Sunday-echool.
I have already alluded to the fact, that
Elisabeth's sister, Mary Ann, became a mem-
ber of my class, and although different from
her sister, and posmeeed of fewer attractions,
yet she interested me much, aa I still tree
wre with affetion the parting letter which
she addressed to me, shortly before I left
hngland, in answer to one which I had pr-
viowly written to her. It was as follow.:

"My der and affetioate Teacher-With
tears, and yet with the greatest pleasure, I
read your kind letter. I do not know how to
enpres my gratitude to you, my dear teacher,
for your kindness i trying to impress upon
my mind the importance and pleasures of re
ligin. I can truly ay, and I know you will
be glad to hear it, that you were the irt
teacher that led me to think of my deer Ba.
viour. While you used to talk to me of Christ,
I learned to Jove you; and the, too, I think





IM IPe b


I learned to love the Saviour, for I do feel as
if I loved him. Iknow it is but a little, ad
I wish it was more. I grieve very much that
you are going away, but wherever you go, I
know that you will be anxious to teach the
gospel; and perhaps you may be made the
means of bringing many souls to heaven, as
you did that of my dear sister. How often
have I heard her pray for youl I hope I shall
be able to follow her example in this respect.
I do often try to, but I fear I do not know
how to pray aright, but you will pray for me,
my dear teacher, will you not? Wherever
you go, and wherever you are, will you prp.
mise to pray for me? Pray, above all things'
that I may be brought to love the Saviour
with my whole heart, and above every thing.
It will enourage me in my own attempts to
pray, to feel that. one whom I love ia a distant
land is praying for me; for I know that the
prayer of the righteous availeth much. And
then, when you are far away, and hear from
me, I trust it will be such news as shall glad-
den your heart.
"I often read your letter, and the book yea
gave me. I m delighted I have got them to







look at, ad to read, when you are far way.
I take the best care of them, and consider
them as almost the best trepures which I
possess.
"I hope you will be carried safely on your
way, and that you will do as much good where
you are going as you have done here. Once
more, my dear Miss ---, let me thank you
for all your kindness to me, and for the in-
struction which you have laboured to give
me. I trust you will yet see the fruit of these
labours; and that if we do not meet again in
this world, we may surely meet in heaven.
Such is the prayer of
"Your very afectionate Sabbath-sholar,
MArI Amn B--."

I have always been in the habit of wrttig
to my swholsa, and getting them to write to
me in return, in order to obtain a more free
and full expression of their sentiments; and
it was in consequence of my known practice
in this particular, that I received.the follow-
ing letter from a member of my class, a short
mime after Blisabeth's death. I give the letter
in her ow sincere and simple words.







"My dear Friend and Teaheur-Wil ye
wouse me for writing these few ims to yO,
I ant your direction and advice. Iknow the
Saviour is my friend, and I do hope I love
him, and try to please him. I did not care
any thing about him once, and I know that I
do now. I remember that he first loved me,
that he has died for me, and he has aid, 'I
love them that love me, and those that seek
me early shall find me.' Oh, how I long to be
happy, as dear Eliabeth E-- is. I know
that she is gone to Jesus, and I want to be
like her, that I may go to her; and, therefore,
I will try to seek forgiveness at the foot of the
cross,as she did. I do pray earnestly to God
for his Holy Spirit to guide me through all
my life, to keep me from temptation and si,
and from beig led away by Satan, and to it
,me for eternity. 0
"I have tried often to pray, when I have
found it impossible to keep my thoughts from
wandering. Oh, how I long to be a holy and
prayerful Christian! Iknow that I must re-
pent before I can be a child of God, and I am
afraid to-think of putting of repentance tI
iA&th.haA. TTnr when Ansr Eliunsth E-







ws ill, she told me that if she had not sought
the Saviour while she had health, it would
probably have been too late for her to do so
when sickness came. She said to me very
often, 'Now is the accepted time and now is
the day of salvation.' I cannot describe the
joy which I feel in reading over your letter;
but I wish you would write to me again soon,
and tell me how I may enter, and keep on, in
the 'strait and narrow path that leadeth to
life everlasting.' I can say no more at pre-
sent.
"From your affectionate scholar,
ELax D---."

I have inserted these two letters, principally
for the purpose of showing the inflence of
ilisabeth's precept and example upon the
minds of her young companions; and prtly,
also, that teachers in the Snday-4ehool, who
have never been in the practice of writing to
their scholars, may thus be induced to give
the subject their serious consideration. In a
crowdedd 41sm, it is not practicable often to
4eak to scholars individually, respecting their




in feae


penreaa iseungu, ana o ox eOm may, acU
will frequently oooer, that the separate men-
ber of a class need to be conversed with per-
iocularly.
By a short letter which I received from
Mary Ann --, about two years after I left
England, I learned that their family had been
visited by a series of aflietions sinee I had left
them: that some time before, her father had
again returned from sea, sick, and with a
broken arm; that he had lingered for a long
time, and at length had died, giving evidence,
they hoped, of discipleship. I never obtained
any very clear information, however, upon this
point. I continued to hear of them, though
not from Mary Ann, until I received the fol.
lowing letter, which, as may be mrpposed, ]
read with feelings of no common interest.

Augut 18th, 1846.
"My dear and affectionate Teacher-I an
afraid, by my long silence, you will think '
have forgotten you, but the cae is very differ
ent; for you are often in my thoughts, ani
have been particularly so of late. I often i




Tea NruUMILA


eee me, and take much pleasure in reading
over the letters you were so kind as to send.
me.
My dear and never-to-be-forgotten teacher I'
it was you who took such pains to lead me
to the Saviour, when I was a scholar in your
class. I am now upon my death-bed, but I
cannot bear to leave this world, till I have
written to tell you that your labours have not
been in vain in the Lord. I know you will be
glad to hear this, for I remember how glad
you used to feel about my dear sister Eliza-
beth, because she died a Christian. I am
dying of consumption just as she did, and ex-
pect every day to be my last. At the farthest,
I cannot live many weeks. But I am not
afraid-I have placed all my trust on Jesus,
and I feel that I shall meet my dear sister in
glory; and when you, my dear teacher, shall
make your entrance into that world of light,
we shall meet you joyfully, and say: 'Here is
one who taught us to remember our Creator in
the days of our youth.' I hope God will
bless your labours where you are now, and
that every one of your scholars may meet you
in heaven. I remember that you said in your





13s VVmas3 1
lat letter, yo were still a teacher in the ab
bathochooL
"We have had a great deal of alition in
our family since you left us, but God ha been
very merciful to u in the midst of our trial
*
"This day twelvemonth I was married to e
pious and excellent young man; and I thought
myself quite happy as I looked forward in lif
But, my dear teacher, I am far happier to-day,
even with death and the grave just before me,
and the prospect of leaving my dear, kind hue
band, and other friends; for I am going to
depart and to be with Christ, which is far be.
ter. And when we meet again, it will be at his
right hand, which will excel in joy all earthly
meetings.
"My dear teacher, I shall never see you
again in this world; and even if you sholdd
write me a few lines, the Lor will probably
have called me away before they can arrive.
That God may bless you, and make you happy,
is the prayer of your affectionate and dying
solar, A
MAar AN 8.-q"
6





XU fUUMMAt*,


This letter was imperfectly written, and in
one place I was not able to decipher her words
at all. I think however, that she must, in
those lines which I could not read, have made
reference to the comfort which she experienced
from the fact that her mother had become a
decided Christian, and had united with the
church a short time before. I had previously
learned these particulars through another chan-
nel, and from the few words which I was able
to make out, I concluded that she intended to
communicate to me this intelligence.
The next letter which I received from my
home informed me that Mary An had died
in less than a week from the date of the above
letter. Thus doth God gather the wheat into
his garner. It may not be out of place here
to remark, that all those scholars who consti.
tated my class at the time of Elisabeth's death,
have since become Christians-and a, from time
to time, I have heard of one and another and
another of them coming forward, and making
a public profession of their love to Jesus, my
heart has kindled with a joy something kindred
to that felt in the presence of the angels of
God over repentant sinners.






Sunday-shool teachers who may ohaee to
read this brie history I Sfetr this word of
exhortation from one of your own number. Be
faithful I oh, be faithfulin the discharge of yo
duty. Remember, it is no trifling work that
God has called you to; for immortal soulb e
given into your charge. You have to teeth
them, to watch over and care for them; and
for them, daily and earnestly yo have to pay.
Act each Sabbath, whilst among your elas, as
if it might be the last time you will have to
speak to them. Never sffer the sohool-esr-
aises.to lose, without impressing oe one
solemn truth upon the minds of your soholar
Who may eestiate or limit the innlence fo
good, wrought by the oonvrsion of even as
sinne.. thrwomh var inutwmentalitv


sake this little book has been wr
; read the arrative reftue not to
on tobe dived from it. As
Sunday-oshool, remember tht yo
ecious in the sight of your teahe


m m


























d you wish to .die ach a


i L .









Adowk




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