"But my own sensations after you were gone! they were indescribable! I paced up and down the room like one disconsolate and left alone!-alone !-Yet I was not alone, for the Father was with me;' and it cheered me to remember that He whom we love, was watching over us both, and perhaps, at the same time, reminding each of us of that hour, when we shall meet to part no more.' Oh! blessed hope of an eternal union in which we may indulge through Christ! Surely, with such anticipations, we might ever be singing, 'Oh! that will be joyful.' To have our passage through this life smoothed by the joy we feel in bearing love to each other, is delightful; but to have a mutual friend in Jesus, to be one in Him,' this is bliss unspeakable and divine. Yet how cold are our hearts towards him, how devoid of love and zeal! Oh that my eyes could weep tears of more bitter repentance for my want of devotedness to his service, for the inconstancy of my affections, and for my barrenness in all the fruits of the Spirit!' But there is a fulness in Christ, and from this ever-flowing fountain, we may draw the waters of everlasting life, and be daily receiving grace for grace.'

*

*

*

*

I feel that it is no virtue to be con

tented within, while there is so little to invite in the

outer world; but when spring returns with her flowerets and singing birds, how I shall long to gaze at the blue heavens, and run wild o'er the meadows again! You know my passion for nature. I cannot feel desolate while there is a flower in my room. To-day a nosegay has been sent me, and it seems 'an angel's visit.' Ought it not to remind me of that land where everlasting spring abides, and never withering flowers?' * Oh! if you knew how

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*

I am treated, positively oppressed with kindness. But, dearest girl, farewell. You will remember that we are still one, and that I must ever remain,

Your fondly attached and constant

MARY."

"I shall think of you to-morrow, dearest, partaking of the memorials of Jesus' love. You also will think

of me, and pray that I may not be left comfortless.

It strikes nine."

TO THE SAME.

it

"Halesworth, Tuesday evening, Dec. 6th, 1836.

My very dearest Friend,

It is a whim to begin writing to you now, as may be a week before I can send any thing Wrenthamward; but I cannot forbear, the impulse is so urgent. I want you to know how happy I am in hearing again from dear R; and the sight of a letter enclosed for you, gave me as much pleasure as

my own. Oh! these glad moments, when friend has intercourse with friend! Remember that R- has written at my intercession; and if I should send the epistle unopened, I trust you will allow me the full credit due to such forbearance, as I feel a strange and most unbecoming desire to break the seal, and, having enjoyed the contents myself, to send them to you second-hand. Now do not call me naughty, for indisposition does sometimes affect me, by putting into my head sadly mischievous propositions, from which calamity, my friends, alas! are more likely to suffer than myself. In answer to your very kind and numerous queries, Mr. Bdid call last Thursday, and pronounced me' considerably better;' yet advised a parley with the leeches once a week, as likely to benefit my unmelodious throat. I did not suffer greatly on Tuesday evening from head-ach, but preserved a frame of mind as tranquil as could be expected, after enduring the pang of your departure. I have not risen to breakfast since you left, but have quietly partaken of my solitary meal in the tent of indolence. The excitement of Thursday was borne pretty well; and resolving, with my usual prudence, not to venture into the heated room after tea, I had E- -r's society in my own apartment. On Friday, I was a romp, and had a wrestling-match with Napier! and on Saturday vice versa, as my letter has, by this time, informed you; but I am now about as usual, with alternations of bright and gloomy feelings, to which I am sometimes subject. The former, I think, more frequently prevail,

K

and should always when I think of you, but ah ! the cruel glass between.' Think of me whenever you are awake at twelve o'clock. I am seldom asleep at that hour, and the stillness of midnight is so delightful; such strange, mysterious feelings creep over the soul: you can imagine yourself alone in the world; all other human beings lulled into sleep, and you alone privileged to range in the empire of thought and reason. Last night Orion was brilliant. I must gaze on the stars every evening, but adieu for to-night, dearest. Heavenly angels guard thy bed!' Adieu!

"Thursday, 8th. Yesterday was dear E-r's birthday; and I, by way of commemorating it in the most sociable manner possible, lay in bed till twelve o'clock, and then arose uncommonly head-achy and stupid, but, with my usual waywardness, was in the evening in a gay Hygeian mood. This morning I am quite joyous and aerial, as if I could mount with the skylark. Oh! this fitful state of existence! this feverish dream of being!' When shall we attain to a condition less changeable? When shall we be freed from sin, and sickness, and suffering, and find a permanency of health and holiness? The hour, the hour is hastening.' Time shall be no longer,' and then 'shall the mystery of God be finished.' Then shall we awake in His likeness,' who for a little while is detaining us here, ere we enter into his everlasting rest.' Yes, for a little while. The moments that intervene between us and our final joy, may seem to pass with lingering tardiness; yet they will terminate,

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and usher us at length into the glorious light of our Redeemer's presence. It seems so natural that a Christian should long for his immortality; yet we must wait with patience the arrival of our appointed time. Dear when we reflect on the immeasurable, the infinite disparity between the things of time and eternity, does it not seem a strange thought that these longings for bliss should not be more commonly cherished? Why ought not our aspirations after deliverance to be ardent? Regard with dread an event which is to set us free! which is to burst the fetters that confine our souls, and to send us forth unchained into the regions of life, and love, and felicity! Groundless apprehension! when we remember that death is swallowed up in victory,' and that Christ has disarmed the dread foe of his sting. Our Emmanuel has already tasted for us the suffering of death, and may we not trust that when we shall be called to walk through the valley, He will cause his rod and his staff to comfort us?' Why should we 'fear evil?' The eternal God is our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. May you and I, dearest, find in our last conflict serenity and joy, and be enabled to say with perfect and child-like confidence, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.'

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"I have found in the Memorials of Mrs. Hemans, which I have been reading, some lines referring to the subject on which I have been speaking, and, considering them beautiful, I will transcribe them.