endeavour fully to understand her disease. I will leave you just now, and make some inquiries of the servant girl: for your sister is not able to talk much herself."

William was now left alone in the garden. He threw himself down beneath an old hawthorn, that spread its blossoms over him disregarded. This was the moment of the bitterness of his soul. A gleam from heaven, we have said, had lighted up the darkness of his heart. He was convinced of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. The holiness, and justice, and omnipotence of God, broke in on his soul. He felt the deceitfulness of his heart-he remembered his pious education-his narrow deliverance from death in the snow storm-he thought of the warning scene of the soldier, and his ingratitude for so much kindness oppressed his spirit. The destruction, out of whose jaws he scarcely yet felt himself, made him tremble. But the bow appeared spanning the mount of Calvary; he saw the everlasting hand of mercy stretched down over the cross-he heard the everlasting voice of love inviting him to lay hold of it, and he had now no other stay. O how did the greatness of God's mercy in Christ then overwhelm his soul! How, in this moment, did Helen's kind advices and instructions, and all her loveliness and tenderness, snd her pale countenance, dart across his thoughts. She had been the means, he felt, the persevering means, of saving him.

If any gentle reader should ever happen to come this way, that has been long in raptures with the gallant hero of romance, whose honour ever bears him out-whose heart is always good, and whose conscience never reproaches him, he will perhaps not be likely to esteem William much here. I cannot help it. This was a time of superior joy in heaven; the angels had watched seventeen years for this moment, and a fuller note now floated from their harps through the mansions of heaven.

While William was thus engaged in the garden, a short conversation happened between his sister and the old farmer, which we shall record here, chiefly to show what sustained Helen's hopes on a bed of languishing, and allayed her fears in the prospect of death; that last enemy which we must all meet.

Immediately after William and the surgeon left Helen's appartment, the old farmer enterted, anxious to know the result of the surgeon's visit. From this he could gather little hope; and although the good old man had often asked Helen how she possessed her soul, he now urged the question with more than his wonted earnestness.

"How is it with you, my daughter," said he, "how is it with you? Do you feel your peace with God as secure as ever ?"

"Yes, my dear father," replied the young saint, "I feel that God loves me with an everlasting love. You know I have had

moments of fear and doubting in the expectation of death; but the nearer I approach the end of my days, it hath pleased my kind Redeemer to give me brighter views of the king in his beauty, and the land that is afar off. My flesh indeed doth faint and fail; but while I am weak, then am I strong. In the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength. This is my comfort, there is now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus. It is on him alone that I rely for salvation. Every day have I sinned against him; and all my righteousness is as filthy rags. I have often read in the Bible, and you have told me, that nothing but the blood of Christ could wash away our sins, but I never felt the truth of this so powerfully as now. When I look back on my life, I see little, I see nothing in my doings, but cause of repentance; when I look to my Saviour, I see nothing but strength and hope, and salvation. I I know he hath satisfied the law, and brought in an everlasting righteousness. I know he hath unstinged death and vanquished the grave; and though I die, yet shall I live; for my Redeemer liveth, and I shall live to praise him, with the spirits of the just made perfect. God is all my salvation, and all my desire. I rest on his mercy in Christ. O how great is his goodness! Thanks be unto him for the unspeakable gift which hath brought life. and immortality to light. O death, where now is thy sting? O grave, where is thy

victory? Thanks be unto God who giveth me the victory, through Jesus Christ, my Lord!" "Thanks be unto God," exclaimed the "that he hath given you these

came to comfort Your comfort is

old man, hopes of eternal life. I you, but you comfort me. in God-your hope in the Holy One of Israel. O how sweet this hope on the bed of death! How sweet to you, my daughter, and how solacing to me and all your friends."

William, having breathed a prayer of gratitude, and of fervent supplication for his sister, endeavoured to compose his spirits, and returned to Helen's room. The old farmer sat by her bed-side. The lamb, for it was still called the lamb, although now three years old, stood, and looked up in her face. "This is my lamb," said Helen, observing William rather surprised at its presence, "You recollect of its going with us to our mother's grave; it takes every opportunity of coming into the room. Poor thing! it will attend me to the last. Take good care of it," continued she, addressing the old man, "take good care of it when I am gone -it is an innocent little thing."

The old farmer now withdrew; and Helen and her brother were left together. William related his thoughts in the garden. While he spake, every look of Helen was a gleam from heaven-every sigh, the essence of prayer. "You have been the means of saving me," said William-"O how good you have been!" Helen clasped his neck,

kissed him again and again with the warmth of intensest love-her eye glanced a look of perfect enjoyment-and she exclaimed"I am happy now-O kind Redeemer! I come to thee. My dear brother will soon be with me." It was too much for Helen. Her hands loosed from William's neckthe quivering hectic forsook her cheekshe gave a gentle sigh on her brother's bosom-it was the last of nature-the wheel stood still at the cistern-and her soul ascended up into heaven.

I shall leave the scene of this evening to the kind reader. The old farmer, the shepherd-boy, the servant girl, the surgeon, wept with William; and the lamb looked up wistfully in their faces. The good old man at length opened the Bible; and they sung together these verses from the 103 Psalm.

"Such pity as a father hath
Unto his children dear;

Like pity shows the Lord to such
As worship him in fear.

For he remembers we are dust,

And he our frame well knows.

Frail man, his days are like the grass,
As flower in field he grows:

"For over it the wind doth pass,
And it away is gone;

And of the place where once it was,
It shall no more be known.

But unto them that do him fear,
God's mercy never ends;

And to their children's children still
His righteousness extends."

The second morning after Helen's death, saw her funeral moving slowly over the