ed up and supported by clear views of the infinite mercy and power of the Redeemer, together with the wonderful co-operation of all the persons of the Trinity in effecting man's salvation. Thus I was, at once, humbled and strengthened; deprived of all self-confidence, yet filled with faith and confidence in God. And thus have I been led from step to step, till I now behold His near approach, whose presence will render me for ever happy, and whose hand will wipe away every tear from my eyes. Such is my present state, and in these circumstances he enables me to say with the heart as well as with my lips, I heartily thank my heavenly Father that he hath called me to this state of salvation, through Jesus Christ, my Saviour; and that he hath given me grace to continue in the same unto this awful hour, thus making his strength perfect in my weakness.'

66 While speaking these last words, which, with all the foregoing expressions, she appeared to utter with much ease to herself, she became slightly convulsed, and desired to be raised on her pillow. I instantly sprang from the bed, elevated her head, and inquired if she were more easy in that posture. She looked rather wildly at me; and calling for her baby, it was quickly brought to her. She kissed it once or twice, then raised her eyes as if in prayer, kissed it again, and heaving a very deep sigh, fell back, and became speechless. From that moment my Lydia never spoke again, and at the end of twelve hours expired. Thus I lost a daughter, who was surely one of the most perfect and beautiful examples ever beheld, or conceived, of the power of divine grace as displayed in a vessel of clay.

"I remained at Bellevue till after her funeral, in a state which admitted of no consolation. And when the dear remains of my precious daughter were committed to the earth, I humbly requested permission of my sonin-law to take charge of the child; but being somewhat harshly refused, I returned home, where a violent fit of illness confined me to my bed for a considerable time.

During this period, I was frequently visited by Mr. Berrington, but was never able to discover whether he had the slightest idea of my beloved daughter Lydia's distinguishing regard for him. Of this, however, no

doubt could be entertained; that he was exceedingly affected at the news of her death, and was long before he recovered his usual cheerfulness. While my illness and convalescence continued, he visited me daily, and used every means in his power to communicate those consolations which alone can satisfy the soul. I remember many beautiful hints which he gave me, at that time, upon religious subjects, but which I, being busy in supplying my own mind with consolations of a very different description, was neither willing nor able to receive. The truth of the case was this; that my daughter being removed, my ambitious views soon began to centre in her child, whom I hoped to see growing up as an ornament to his country, and a pillar of the state. I had a particular delight in hearing of the little marquis, in thinking of his early honours, and in speaking of him as my grandson. Nevertheless, at this very time, the eye of a superficial observer might perhaps have noted in me some symptoms of a converted character; since I was become externally, not only serious, but even devout, talking fluently upon religion, delighting to speak of my daughter's blessed death, repeating her pious sentiments, and describing her deep resignation. But so far was my mind from being really in a good state, that on the one hand it was secretly inflated with ambition, while on the other it was inflamed with resentment against the duke, whose grief for the loss of my daughter I did not think sufficiently vehement, and who had so ungraciously refused me the charge of my grandson.

"At length my health began to improve; when hearing that the duke was gone abroad, and that my grandson still remained at Bellevue, I began to contemplate a visit to him, and with this view ordered suitable preparations to be made. But while meditating this scheme, I received a letter from the confidential servant abovementioned, who had been left in the charge of the child, informing me that he had been suddenly taken ill, though he was then rather better: adding, however, that she wished I could see him, and give my opinion concerning him, since he was certainly a very delicate infant. On receiving this letter, I demurred not a moment, but requesting Mr. Berrington to accompany

me, we hastened to Bellevue. At the porter's lodge I was told that the little marquis was better; that he had been seen abroad the day before, and looked very well. Pleased with this information, I was driven speedily to the house, at the door of which I got out, and was admitted into the hall. It was a very fine day in the autumn, and many of the doors and windows being open to air the house, the place, though deserted, looked gay and beautiful. As I entered the great hall, inquiring eagerly after my grandson, the old servant who had opened the doors directed me to look up towards the corridor, or gallery, which I described before as running round the upper part of the hall; and there I saw the little heir of the vast domains which surrounded me, then about ten months old, for so long it was since his beloved mother's death, in his nurse's arms, holding in his hand a slender stick, which he was drawing along the rails of the gallery, and laughing with the utmost vivacity at the noise it produced. He was dressed in white, having a sash of black love, and a small straw hat on his head with a plume of ostrich feathers. The two women who were with him, were his nurse and Mrs. Short. At sight of this little darling, I hastily ascended the stairs, and meeting the women at the head of them, I had there a full view of the lovely child; and though I saw in him all the beauty I could desire, I observed something about him at the same time which caused me to tremble for the life of its frail possessor.

"My little George, for such was the name of this lovely baby, was somewhat taller than infants commonly are at that age; his limbs were remarkably finely formed, particularly his chest and shoulders; his features were without fault; his brow open and serene; his eyes of deep yet sparkling blue; and his light hair appeared bursting forth in many lovely ringlets from a cap of the richest lace. His hat had been taken off, and he was presented to me quivering and sparkling with vivacity, while he permitted me to kiss his little open mouth, enriched with two, and only two teeth, white as pearls.

"While I still caressed him with feelings of love which I cannot describe-pure maternal love, in which ambition itself seemed for a moment to be wholly swallowed

up, Mr. Berrington, who had been detained a moment behind with the carriage, joined me. As he looked on the child, he changed colour; and I thought I heard him repeat my daughter's name, but could not be certain of it. However, he seemed more agitated than I had ever seen him before.

"We were led by Mrs. Short into the rooms occupied by the child: where an account was given us of his late seizure, as well as of his general state of health, which was not so good as the letters I had been in the habit of receiving might have led me to expect. But this false statement appeared to be rather the effect of misjudgment than of any attempt to deceive. I was, however, inexpressibly affected when I perceived that this lovely little creature, who had thus powerfully laid claim to every affectionate feeling of my heart-this little creature, on whom I built all my hopes of future consequence in the world-this little creature, who was heir to the vast estates and distinguished honours of his father-possessing such a state of health as rendered his continuance on earth for any length of time a matter of the greatest doubt. I felt moreover, that, setting all these things aside, I could not reconcile myself to part with this sweet child, who in every look, in every glance, in every motion, reminded me of his mother during the days of her infancy. Upon the whole, my feelings were such, that bursting into an agony of tears, and turning to Mr. Berrington, I said, 'Oh! who can tell what the feelings and apprehensions of a parent are, except such as bear the name of parent! Mr. Berrington, if I lose this baby, I shall never be able to survive the loss!'

"The nurse and Mrs. Short melted into tears at hearing this, and Mrs. Short said, 'Dearest Madam do not speak of losing the dear child: he is at present very well, and God we hope will avert all future danger.'

"I spent the remainder of the day in endeavouring to persuade myself that my fears for the child had little foundation, while I took every gentle method of increasing my acquaintance with him, and conciliating his affections. After remaining till a late hour at Bellevue, I went with Mr. Berrington to an inn in the neigh

bourhood, where I was treated with the most flattering attention imaginable.

"The next day I repeated my visit to Bellevue, and at length found myself so incapable of tearing myself from my little grandson, that I took a lodging in a farm-house near the castle, whence I continued to visit him daily for a few weeks.

66 During this interval, the child, though lively, betrayed certain symptoms of the complaint which had before attacked him, which ought to have been sufficient to prepare me for the impending evil; but I had by this time so far reasoned myself into a kind of persuasion that he would be spared to me, that I could scarcely fancy it possible that there was to befall me a calamity so dreadful as the loss of this child. At length, however, the time arrived for the threatened blow to descend. It was necessary for my sake that it should take place, and for the dear infant it was most desirable. I coveted earthly honours and distinctions for my darling grandchild, most ardently desiring that he should live to fill up the superior station in society which fortune seemed to have allotted him. But his heavenly Father had other views for him. He deprived him of the ducal coronet only to invest him with a heavenly crown; he stripped him of his earthly possessions only to bestow on him a dwelling made without hands, eternal in the heavens; he removed hin from earth because he loved him; and he removed him in infancy, because he was willing to secure his happiness without delay.

"The last time I saw my child in seeming health, was in the arms of his nurse, in the great hall at Bellevue. I was departing for the evening, and turned back to kiss him. He had begun to love me; and as I prepared to go, he followed me with such a tender glance, as seemed to say, 'Why do you leave me ?'

"The next morning, early, I was called to him, and found him under the influence of an inflammatory com plaint attended with much fever, in the arms of his nurse. I watched him for several days; during which I experienced all the agitation that could flow from the alternate influence of hope and fear, till at the end of the