A T o- 108, THE DAIRYMAN'S. DAUGHTER £K AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE — ^ER!DGFT>. BY IE \ IEGH riCH> ONP. 1831. OUR CISTERN ALMOST FULL. There is In our house a central cistern, supplied frcm 3 spring yonder. From that oistern go many -pipes, leading to f.W parts of the hou-^e, carrying water to supply all the family wants. If it be nearly full, and yet not filled to the top so as- t<> rover the jnouth of the pipes, the pipes wili remain dry, and none of the inmates will gel any water. The cistern is almost fall — a little more would make it overflow— but for all practi- cal purposes almost full is as bad as having it empty. Almost full, yet the family get none of it. Tt is not fuil enough to flow into the brarching pipes and gurgle alonir to the most di-unt extremities, ready at a tooth to poifr forth its liquid tre.^uros. In this image we see why many a Christian is useless in the wo. Id. lie is almost full, but not overflowing, lie is con- mred about the -groat things of etermty ; but he is not so ro:< pletr'y fitted by the Spirit of Christ that it flows into all the little channels of h's daily life. Th^e, alas, are dry. And ytt it is through "truS; he chiefty touches others — through these that tho currents of his influence overflow into the hinds and hearts of those arontv] him. Therefore, rea 1 CI ristinn as he may be, lie does very little gopd toothers. Perhaps he does harm by thus misrepresenting Christ and himself like ?ise ; for he seems more empty than he really h. Though not dry, for all practical Jesuits he is so. Others are not watered jnd blessed by his influence, Ah,' Christian, /.• ■■p the c it fern f/iU. THE D A I It Y M A N ' S I) A U G II T E R . AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE — ABRIDGED. BY REV. LEGH RICHM JN!" IT is a delightful employment to trace-and disc the operations of divine grace, as they are manifested in the dispositions and lives of God's real children. If. "is peculiarly gratifying to observe bow frequently am^ng the poorer classes of mankind, the sunshine of mercy beams upon the heart, and bears witness to the imago of Christ which the Spirit of Q-od has impressed thereupon. Among such, the sincerity and Simplicity of the Chris; ian character appear unencumbered by those fetters to sp'rit- uality of mind and conversation,' which too often pro\ e a great hinderance to those who live in the higher rani s. • Many are the difficulties which riches, polished socio: \ , worldly importance, and high connections throw m thn way of religious profession. Happy indeed it is, (an i- some such happy instances I Know,) whore grace hat so strikingly supported its conflict with natur; 1 pride, Be i- importance, the allurements of luxun , ease, and worldly opinions, that the noble and mighty appea* adorned with genuine poverty, of spirit, : elf-denial, humble mindedacss, and deep spirituality o( heart. But, in general, if we want to see religion in its pure t character, we must look for it among the po lr of tins wo^ld, who are rich in faith. Lfow often is the poor mail's c ■•■ tage the palace of God I Many of us can truly- declare, that vie have there learned our most valuable iessons of faith and hope, and there witnessed the moat striking demonstrations of the wisdom, power, the goodness of God. The character which the present narrative is deeigned to i utroduce to the notice of my readers,- is uiven from rtul life aiidcircumstcihtc. I first became acquainted with the Dairy- r\ man's Daughter by the reception of a letter, a part of which ] transcribe from th original, now before me. " Hbv. Stn. — I take the liberty to write to you.- Tray excuse ire, for I have never spoken to you. But 1 once heard you p -each at church. 1 believe you r.re a faithful preach' « f, to warn sinners to tiee from the wrath that will b( revealed :; gainst all those that live in sin. and die impenitent. "I was much rejoiced to hear of those marks of love and <■ -Tec-lion which you showed to that poor soldier of the S L». militia. Surely the love of Christ sent you to that, poor man ; may that love ever dwell richly in you by faith. May it con- strain you to seek the wandering souls of men, with the wt-vent desire to spend and be spent for- his glory. "Sir," be fervent in prayer with God for the conviction and conversion of sinners. He has promisod'to answer the prayer ot'fai.h, that is put up in his Son's name. 'Ask what you will, ;•- id it shall be granted yon.' Through faith in Christ we ro- i -ice in hope and look up in expectation ol that time drawing njar, when alj shall know and tear Ihe Lord, and when a nation shall be burn in a day. "What" a happy lime, when Christ's kinpdom shall come! 'J' ien shall 'his will be done on earth as it is in lxaven.' Men shall be daily fed with the manna of his love, and delight 1'finselves in the Lord all the day long. a Sir. I began to write this on Sunday, being detained from -■attending on public worship. . My dear and only sister, living as a servant with Mrs. , was so ill that I came here to a tend in her place, and on her. But now ohe is no more. "She expressed a desire to receive the Lord's Supper, and commemorate his precious death and sufferings. I told her, as v. ell as I was able, what it was to receive Christ into her froart; but as her weSkneBS" of body increased, she did not mention it ajiain. She seemed quite resigned before she died. I do hope she has gone from a world of death and sin, to be with God for evcT. "My sister expressed a wish that you might bury her. The minister of our parish, whi: her she will be carried, cannot come. She died on Tuesday morning, and will be buried on Friday - or Saturday, (whichever is most convenient to you,) at three o'clock in the afternoon Please to send an answer by the bearer, to let me know whether you can comply wi.h this re- quest. H From your unworthy servant, 41 Kr.IZAF.ETII W E." I was much struck with the simple and earnest strain of devotion which the letter brea'hed. It was but indifferently written and spelt ; but this the rather tended to eudear the hitherto unknown writer, ns it seemed characteristic of the uuion of humbleness of station with eminence of piety. I felt quite thankful that I was favored with a correspondent of this description ; the more so, as such characters were, at that time, very rare in th,e neighborhood. As soon as, it was read, I in- quired who was the bearer of it. M He is waiting at tho outside of the gate, sir,*' was the reply. 1 went out to speak to him: and saw a venerable old man, whose long hoary hair and deeply wrinkled countc ancc com- manded more than cottilnon respect He was resting his arm and head upon the gate, the tears were streaming down his cheeks. On my approach, he mnde a low bow, and said, "Sir, I have brought you a letter from my daughter; but I fear you will think us very bold in asking you to take so much trouble." " By no means.' I replied ; "I shall be truly glad to oblige you and any of your family in this matter." I desired him to come into the houte and then said, " WLat is your occupation ?" •'Sir, I have lived most of my days in a little cottage at -, six miles from here. I have rented a few acres of ground and kept a few cows, which, in addition to my day labor, has been my "means of supporting and bringing up n>y family." "What family have you'" 1 " "A wife, now getting very aged and helpless; two sons and one daughter; for my other poor dear child is just departed out of this wicked world." " I hope, for a better." "I hope so too ; poor thing, she did not use to take to such good ways as. her sister; hut I do believe that her sister's manner of talking with her before she died, was the means of saving her soul. What a mercy it is to have such a child. as mine is ! I never thought about my own soul seriously till she, poor girl, begged and prayed me to flee from the wrath to come. - ' '• How old are you?" " Turned seventy, and my wife is older ; we are petting old and almos' past our labor; but. our daughter has left a good place, where she lived in service, on purpose to come home and take care of us-and our little dairy. And a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is." " Was she always so ?"' " No, sir v when she was very young, she was* all for the world, and pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed we were ail very ignorant and thought,, if we took care for this life, and wronged nobody, we should be sure to go to heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, and, like o rselves, were strangers to the ways of God and the word of his grace. But the eldest of them went out- to service; and some years ago she heard a sermon preached at 'church, and from that time she became quite an altered creature. She began to read the Bible, and became quite sober and steady. The first time she came home afterwards to see us, she brought us a guinea w.iich she had saved from her wages, and said, as we were getting old, she was sure we should want help ; adding that she did not wish to spend it in fine clothes, as she used to do, only to feed pride and vanity. She would rather show gratitude to her dear father and mother; and this, she said, because Christ had shown such mercy to her: il We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight in her company, for her temper and behavior were so humble atid kind, she seemed so desirous to do us good both' in soul and body, and was so different from what we had ever seen he before, that. Careless and ignor.ant as we bad been, :ve began to think there must be something real in religion, or it never could alter a person so much in a little time. u Her younger sister, poor soul, used to laugh and ridicule her at that time, and said her head was turned with her new ways. ' No, sister,' she would say, ' not my head, but I hope my heart is turned from the love of -sin to the love of God. I wish you may one day see, as I do, the danger and vanity of your present condition'' " Her poor sister tvould reply, ' I do not want to hear any of your preaching : I a:n no worse than other people, and that is enough for me.' ' Well," sister,' Elizabet'i would say, 'if you^ will not bear me, you cannot, hinder 'me from praying for you, which I do with all' my heart.' "And now, sir, I believe those prayers ar be separated. Whether they were rich or poor, whilw on ear h, it is a matter of trifling consequence ; the valuable part of their character is, that they are now kings and priests unto God Tn the num ber of departed believers, with whom I once loved to con- verse on the grace and glory of the kingdom of God, was tbe Dairyman's Daughter. I propose now to give some further account of her, and hope it. may be useful to every reader. A few days after the funeral of the younger sister, I rode over to visit the family in their own cottage. The principal part of the road lay through retired, narrow lanes, beautifully overarched with groves of nut and other trees, which screened the traveller from the raya of .the sun, and afforded many interesting objects for admiration, in the beautiful flowers, shrubs, and young tre»-s, which grew upon the high banks on each side of the road. Many grotesque rocks, with little streams of water occasionally breaking out of .them, varied the recluse scenery, and produced a new, romantic, and pleas- ing effect- Here and there, the more distant and rich prospect beyond appeared through gaps and hollow places on the road*side. Lofty hills, with navy signal-posts, obelisks, and light-houses on their summits, appeared at these intervals; rich cornfields were also visible through some of the open places; and now and then, 'when the road ascended any hill, the sea, with ships at various distances, opened delightfully upon me. But, for th* ^ost part, shady seclusion, nnd beauties of a more minute- 10 and confined nature, gave a character to the journey, and in- vited contemplation. What do nut they lose, who are Strangers to serious medita- tion on the wonders and beauties of created nature 1 How gloriously ihe God of creation shines in his works ! Not a tree, <-r leaf, or flower,; n^t a bird, or insect, but proclaims in glowing language, "God made me/' - As I approached the village where the good old Dairyman dwelt, I observed him in a little field, driving a lew cows be- fore him towards a yard and hovel which adjoined his cottage. I advanced very near him, without his observing me, for his sight was dim. On my calling out to hwn, he started at the , sound of my^voice, but with much gladness of countenance welcomed me, saying, " Bless your heart, sir, I am very glad you are come; we have looked for you every day this week." The cottage-dour opened, and the daughter came out, fol- lowed by her aged and infirm Another. The sight of me naturally brought to recollection the grave at which we had before met. Tears of affection mingled with the smile of satis- faction with which I was received by these worthy cottagers. I dismounted, and was conducted through a very neat little garden, part of which was shaded by two large, overspreading elm-trees, to the house. Decency and cleanliness were mani- fest within and without. This, thought I, is a fit residence for piety, peace and con- tentment. May i learn a fresh lesson in- each, through the blessing of God on this visit "Sir," said the daughter, " we are not worthy that you should come under our roof. We take it very kind that you should come so far to see us." "My Master," I replied, " came a great deal farther to visit us, poor 'sinners. He left the bosom of his Father, laid aside his glory, and came down to this lower world on a visit of mercy and love ; and ought not we, if we profess to follow him, to bear each other's infirmities, and go about doing good as he did ?" The old man now came in, and joined his wife and daughter in giving me a cordial welcome. Our conversation soon turned, to the great loss they had sustained; and the pious and sensi- ble disposition of the daughter was peculiarly manifested, as 11 well in what she said to her parents, as in what she said to me. I was struck with the good sense and agreeable manner which accompanied her expressions of devotedness to God, and love to Christ for the great mercies which he had bestowed upon her. She seemed anxious to improve the opportunity of my visit to the best purpose, for her own and her parents' sake; yet there was nothing of unbecoming forwardness, no self-consequence or conceitedness, in her behavior. She uni- ted the firmness and earnestness of the Christian, with the modesty of the i'ema'e and the dntifulness of the daughter. It was impossib'e to be in her company, and not observe how truly her temper and conversation adorned the evangelical principles which she professed. I soon discovered how eager arid* how successful also she had been in her endeavors to bring her father and mother to the knowledge and experience of the truth. This is a lovely circumstanoe in the character of a young Christian. J fit, hath pleased God, in the free dispensation of his mercy to call the child by his grace, while the parents remain still in igno- rance and sin, how great is the duty of that child to do what is possible for the conversion of those to whom it owes its birih 1 llappy is it when the ties of grace sanctify those of nature ! This aged couple evidently looked upon and spoke of their daughier as their teacher and admonisher in divine things, while they received from her every token of filial submission and obedience, testified by continual endeavors to serve and assist them to the utmost, in the little concerns of the household. The religion of this young woman was of a highly spiritual character, and of no ordinary attainment. Her 'views of the divine, plan in saving the sinner, we*e clear and scriptural. She spoke much of the joys and*orrows which, in the course of her religious progress, she had experienced ; but she was fully sensible that there is far more in real religion than mere occasinal transition from one frame of mind and spirit to another. She beJieved that the experimental acquaintance of the heart, with God, principally consisted in so living upon Christ by faith, as to seek to live like him by love. She knew that the love of God towards the sinner, and the path ot duty, prescribed to the sinner, are both of an unchangeable nature. ia a believing dependence on the one, and an affectionate W; dk in the other, she sought and found ''the peace of God which passeth all* understanding ;" '• for so he giveth his be- loved rest." ' She had read but few books besides her Bible ; but these few were excellent in their kind, and she spoke of their contents as one who knew their value. In addition tn a Bible and Com- mon Praver-Book, " Doddridge's Rise and Progress," " Ro- manics Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith," ■' Bunyan's Pil- grim/' '-Alleine's Alarm,'' " Baxter's Saints' Everlasting Rest," a hymn-book, and a few Tracts, composed her library. I observed* in her eotintonance a pale and delicate look, which I afterwards found to be a presage of consumption ; and the idea then occurred to me that she would not live many years. In fact, it pleased God to take her hence about a year and a half after I first saw her. Time passed on swifily with this litt'e interesting family; and after having partaken of some plain and wholesome re* freshment, and enjoyed a few hours' conversation with them, 1 found it was necessary for me to return homewards. i " I thank you, sfr," said the daughter, " for your Christen kindness to me and my friends. I believe the blessing of -he Lord has attended your visit, and. I hope I have experienced it to be so. My de»r father and mother will, I am sure, remem- ber it. and I rejoice in an opportunity, which we have never before enjoyed, of seeing a serious minister under this roof. My Saviour has been abundantly good to me in plucking me 1 as a brand from the burning,' and showing me the way of life ar.d pea. e ; and I hope it is my. heart's dedre- todive to his glory. But I long to see these dear friends enjoy the comlort and power of religion als'*" " 1 think it evident," I replied," "that the promise is fnl- filled in their case : ' It shall come to pass, that at evening time it shall be light.' " V I believe it," she said, "and praise God for the blessed hopp." "Thank hin\ too that you have been the happy instrument of bringing them to tha light." "I do sir, yet when I think of my own unworthiness and insufficiency, I rejoice with trembling." 13 "Sir/' said the good old man, " I nin sine ih> : Lord Will reward you for this kindness. Pray for us, that, om as v.-p, are, and sinners as we Have been, yet lie would have inert y upon us at the eleventh hour. Poor Betsey Rfrives hard fVr our sakes, both in body and soul; she works hard all day Ui save us trouble, and 1 bar has not strength to support all ehte dues: and then she talks to us, and reads to us, and prays for us, that w4 may be saved from the'wrah to come. Indeed, sir. she's a rare child to us." 4i Peace be to you and all that belong to you." "Amen, and thank you, dear sir," was echoed from each tongue. Thus we parted for that time. My returning meditations were sweet, and, I hope, profitable. Many other visita were afterwards made by me to this peaceful cottage, and I til ways found increasing reason to thank God for tbe iniercourEO I enjoyed. . , I soon perceived that tbe health of the daughter was rapidly on the decline. The pale wasting consumption, which is ih<; Lord's instrument for removing so many thousands every y> nr from the l#nd of the living, made ha6ty strides on her constitu- tion. The hollow eye, the distressing cough, and the often too flattering red on the cheek, foretold the approach of death. I have often thought wliat a field for usefulness and affec- tionate attention on the part of ministers and Christian friend*. is opened by the freqfient attacks and lingering progress «>f consumptive illness. How many such precious opportunisms are daily lost, where Providence seems in to marked a Wf.v to afford time and space for Serin us ami godly instruction 1 Ut how many may it be said, " The way of peace have they not known :" for not one friend 'came nigh, to warn then to " llco from the wra'h to come." Bi« the Dairyman's Daughter was happily made acquainted with the things w^ich belonged to her everlasting peace, be- fore the present disease had taker; root in her constitution. In my visit 'o her, 1 might be said rather to receive information . than to impart it. tier mind was abundantly stored with divine irutUs, a id her conversation was truly edifying. The - U: . recollection ol it still produces a thank'ful- sensation in my heart. I one clay received a short note to the following effect : Bear Sir,— I should be very glad, if your convenience will allow, that you would come and see a p'oQf unworthy sinner: my hour-glass is nearly run ou<, but I hope I can see Christ to be precious to my soul. Your conversation has often been blessed tome, and I now feel the need of it more than ever. ?>Iv father and mother send their duty to you, From your obedient and unworthy servant, Elizabeth W . I < beyed the summons that same afternoon. On my arrival at the JDairvman's cottage, his wife opened the door. The tears sffeamed down her eheek, as she silently shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried-to speak ; but could not. I took her by the hand and said, u My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wisdom and mercy directs." li Oh! my Betsey, my dear girl, is so bad, sir , what shall I do without her ?•— I thought I should have gone fifst to. the gravp, but *' " lint the Lord sees good, that, before you die yourself, yo,u should behold your child sate home to glory. Is there no mercy in this?" 4 ' Oh ! dear sir, T am very old, and very weak ; and she is a dear child, the s'air'and prop of a poor old creature a3 I am." A* I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, sup- ported .in an arm-chair by pillows, with every mark of rapid dec-line and approaching death, -khe appeared to me within three or four wceka at the farlhesf from her end. A tweet smile of friendly complacency enlightened her p;de coun'e- nance, as she said, 'tThis is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I sent to you. You find me daily wasting away, ami I cannot have long to continue here. My flesh and-my heart fail, but God is the. strength of my weak heart, and I trust will be my portion for ever." The conversation which follows was occasionally interrupted by her cough and want of breaih. Her tone of voice waa clear, though feeble; her manner solemn and collected; ana her eyej though more dim than formerly, by no means wanting in liveliness as she spoke. I had fcequeutlv admired the Hiiperior language in which she expressed her idea*, as well n* the scriptural consistency with which she communicated lur thoughts. She had a good natural understanding; and gracf, as is generally the case, had much improved it. On the pros- eat occasion I could not help thinking she was peculiarly favored. The whale strength of grace and nature seemed to be in full exercise. After taking my seat between the daughter and the mother, (the latter fixing her fond eye* upon her child with great anxiety while we were conversing,) I said to Elizabeth, — " I hope you enjoy a sense of the divine presence, and ban rest all upon him who ha* ' been with fliee,' and has kept 'thee in all plaeeR whither thou hast gone," and will bring thee into 'the land of pure delights, where saints immortal reign.-' '' " Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been sometimes cloudeB, but I believe it has been partly owing to the great weakness and s.nfferi ng of my bodily frame, and partly to the envy of my spiritual enemy, who wants to persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that I have 'been a self- deceiver." "And do you give way to his suggestions? Can you doubt, amidst such numerous tokens of past and present mercy?" V No, eir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a ofcar evidence of his love. I do not wish to add to my other sins that ( t denying his manifest goodness ro my soul. I would acknowl- edge it to his praise and glory," u What is your' present view of the state in which you were before he called you by his grace?" "Sir, T was a proud, thoughtless girl; fond o." dress and finerv ; I loved the world an,d the ihings that are in the world ; 1 lived in service among wordly peopl 1 , and never had the happiness of being in a family where worship wa3 regarded, and the souls of the servants cared for, either by master or mistress. I went once on a Sunday to chuivh, more to see mid be seen, than to pray, or hear the word of God. T thought I iris quite good enough to be saved, and disliked and often laughed at religious pe.op'e I was in great 'darkness ; I knew nothing of lUe way ot salvation; I never prayed, nor was sen- sible of the awful danger of a prayerU>ss state. 1 wished to in intain the eharacter <>4 a good servant, and wri# much i-'ifted up whenever I met, with applajwet I was tolerably moral and decent in my conduct, trom motive* of earn d and wordly policy; but I was a stranger to God ^nd Chris' ; I neglected lay soul ' 7 and had I died in such a state, hell must, and would justly, have been my portion.'' " How long is it, since you heard the sermon - wliian yoa hope, through God's blessing, effected yoar conversion ?'' ' About five years ago." '• How was it brought about?" '' ft was reported that a Mr , who was. detained by contrary winds f'r un embarking on board ship, as chaplain, to a> distant } a>t vi ihe*world, was to piea/h »t — church. Many adv.sed me not to go. for fear he should turn my head; as they said hje held sfrange notions. Hut, curiosity, and an o >;>ortun ty of appearing in a new gO»vn, which I was very projd of, induced me to ask leave to go. Indeed, sir, I bad no better motives than vanity a»d curiosity. Yet thus* it pleased the Lord to order it for his own jjiory. " I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd of people col etted together. T often think of the contrary states t what I had been doing all the days of- my life, lie described the meek, lowly, and humble example of Christ ; I felt pro u-d, lofty, vain and self- consequential. He represented Christ as 'Wisdom ;' I felt my ignorance. He held him forth as ' Righteousness ;' I was con- vinced of my own guilt, He proved him to be ' Sanctilication: I saw my corruption. He proclaims 1 him as ! Redemption ;' I felt my slavery to sin, an4 mv cwptivity to Satan. He con- cluded with an animated address to sinners, in which he ex- horted them to flee from the wrath to come, to cast off the love of outward ornaments, to put on Chiist, a»d -be clothed with true humility. "From that hour I never lo«t sight of the value of my soul, and the danger of a sinful state. I inwardly blessed God for il. sermon, although my njnd'wastn a state of great eon- fusion. ' w "The preachei had brought forward the ruling passion of *nv heart, which was pridj in outward dress; and by the grace of God it was onde insirumcn'al to the awakening of m\ soul. Happy, sir, would it be, if m iny a poor girl, like myself, were turned from the love uf outward adorning and putting on of fine apparel, to seek that which is not corruptible, even tta ornament of a meek and quiet spit t, which is in the sight of God of great price. " The greater part of the cortgregnlion, unused to such faith- ful and scriptural sermons, disliked and complained of the severity of the preacher; while a few, as I afterwards found, like myself, were deeply affected, and earnestly wishc . t near him again. But he preached there no more. '"From that. time I Was led. through a course of private 18 prayer, reading and meditation, to 6ee my lost estate as a sin- ner^ and 1- the great mercy of God, 'hrough Jesus Christ, in raisin? sinful deist and ashes to a share in the glorious happw. ness of heaven. And oh, sir, what a {Saviour have I found!" He is more lhan I could ask or desire. In his fulness I have found all that my poverty cou'd need; in his bosom I have found a resting-place from all sin and sorrow ; in his word I have found strength against doubt and unbelief." " Were you not soon convinced," said 1, " that your salva- tion must be an act of entire grace on the part of God, wholly independent of your own previous works or deserving* ?" 11 Dear sir, what were my works before I heard thai sermon, but evil, carnal, selfish, and ungodly? The thoughts of my heart, from my youth upward, were ouly evil, and that con- tinually. And § my deserving, what were they, but the de- servings of a fallen, depraved, careless soul, tha f regards neither law nor Gospel? Yc«, sir, I immediately saw' that, if ever I were saved, it must be by the free mercy of God, and that the whole praise and honor of the work would be bis. from first to last." u What change did you perceive in yourself with respect to the world?" "It appeared all vanity and vexation of spirit. 1 found it necessary to my peace of mind to 'cWme out from among them and be separate.' I gave myself to prayer; and ■many a precious hour of secret delight I enjoyed in communion with God. Often f mourned over my sins, and sometimes had a great conflict through unbelief, fear, temptation to return back a;>ain lo my old way*, and a variety of difficulties which lay in my way. But he who loved me with an everlasting love, ifrew me by his loving k wines*, showed me his loving kind- ness showed me the way of peace, gradually strengthened mo in my resolutions of leading a new life, and taught me that, whi-e without him I could do nothing, 1 yet might do all things through his strength. " " Did you not find many difficulties ig your situation, owing to your change of principle and practice?" "Yes sir, every day of my life. I was laughed at by some, scolded at by others, scorned by enemies, and pitied by friends , [9 I was callrtl hypocrite, saint, false deceiver, unci many more names, which were mean^o render me hateful in the sight of the world. But I es'eerneu the reproach of t he cross on honor. I forgave and prayed for my persecutors, and remembered how very lately I had acted the same part towa:ds other* myself. I thought also thai Christ endured the contradiction of sin- ners; and, as the diseiple is not above his Master, I was glad to be in any way conformed to his Bufferings." '' Did you not then feel for your relatives at borne ?" '* Yes, that i did, indeed, sir; ihey *ere never out of my thoughts. I prayed continually for them, and had n longing desire to do them good. In pferrtieular, I felt for my father and mother, as they were getting into years, and were very igno- rant and dark in matters of religion." "Ay/' interrupted.her mother, Bobbin?, " ignorant and da»k, sintu) and miserable we were, till this dear Betsey — this dear Betsey — this dear child, sir, brought Cliri>t Jesus home to her poor father and mother's hon^e " "No, dearest mother, say rather. Jesus Christ brought your poor daughter home to tell you what I c had done for her soul, and I hope to do the same for yours." At this moment the Dairyman came in with two pails of milk hanging from the ydki on his shoulders. He had stood behind the half-opened door for a few minutes, and heard the last sentences spoken by his wife and dan -bier."- * • "Blessing and mercy opon her," said he, "it is very true; she would leave a good place, of service on purpo.se to live with us,. that she might help us both in soul and body. Sir, don't she look very ill ? I think, sir, we shan't have her here long." " Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. "AH our times are in his hand, and happy is it thai they are. I am willing to go-; are not you willing, my father, to part with me into his hands, who gave mo to you at first ?" "Ask me any question in the wor'd but that," said the weep- ing father. "I know said she, ' ; you wish me to be happy." "I do, I do," answered he; " let the Lord do with you an4 us n9 best pleases him," I then asked her, an what her present connotations chiefly deppnrlcd, In the prospect of anpro,u£,bij)g death. " Entirely, 'sir, on my view i>t Gunst. When I look at my- self, mari3 r sins, infirmities, and imperfections, cloud *,he image of Christ which I want lo see in my own heart. Hut when I look at the Saviour himself, he is altogether lovely; there is no! one spot in his coni:tenanee, nor one cloud over all his per- fect 'ons "I think of his earning; in the flesh, and it reconciles me to the sufferings of the body; f«r he h.d litem as well as I. I think of his temptations and helieve thnt he i.s able to succor when I am tempted Then I think of his crottg and learn to bear my own. I teflect on his death, and long to die unto sin, so that it may no longer have dominion over me. I some- times think on his resurrection, and trust, tjiat he has given roe a part in it, for J feel that my affeetions are set upon things above. Chiefly I take comfort in thinking of him as the right hand of the Father, pleading my cause, and rendering accepta- ble even my fee I>1 e prayers, both for myself and, as I hope, for my dear friends. '* Thes»* are the views which, through mercy, I have of my Saviour's goodness; and they have made me wish and strive in my poor way to serve him, to give myself up to him, and to labor to do my duty in that stute of life in'o which it has pleased him to call me. "A thousand limes I should have fallen «nd fainted, if he . hrtd not upheld me. I feel that I am nothing without him. lie is all in all. '• Just ko far as I can cast my care upon him, I find strength to do his w II. May he give me grace to trust him to the la«t moment! I dunet bar death, because 1 believe he has taken away its sting. And 'eh'! what happiness, beyond 1 Tell me, sir, whether you think I am tight. I hope I am under no delusion. I d ire not look for my hope, at any thing short of the entire follies* of Cnrist When I ask my own heart a question, I am nfrai I to trust it, f >r it is treacherous, and has often deceived me. But "when I ask Christ, he answers me with promises that strengthen and refresh me. and leave mo no room to doubt his p' wer and will to*ave, I am in his hands, and w.m'd remain there; I do brieve that he will nevnr ea-ve nor forsake me, but will pevlect the thing that concern 1 1 i .-> He loved me and gave himself for me, and'I believo that bis girls and calling are without repentance. In this hope I live, :n this I wish re die." I looked around toe Vi she was speiking, and thought tl Surely this is none other than the house of God, and the gate of hpaven." Everything appeared neat, cl> anly, and in- teresting. The afternoon had been rather overcast with dark clouds, but just now the settfng sun shone brightly and rather suddenly into* the room. It was reflected from three or four rows of bright pewter plates and white earthenware arranged on shelves against the wall; it also gave brilliancy to a few prints of sacred subjecs that, hung there also, and served fer monitors of the birth, baptism, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. A large map of Jerusalem, and a hieroglyphic of " the old and new man. ' completed the decorations on that side of the room. Clean as was the white-washed.wall, it was not cleaner than the rest of the place and its furniture. Seldom had the sun enlighted a house where order and gene**' ral neatness (those sure attendants of pious and dtcenl pov- erty) were more conspicuous. This gleam of setting sunshine was emblematical of the bright and serene close of this yo ing Christian's departing season. One ray happened to be reflected trom n little look' ing-?lass upon the face of the young woman. Amidst her pabid and decaying features there appeared a calm resignation, triumphant confidence, unaffected humility, and tender anxiety, which fully tiecdared the feelings of her heart. " Some further affectionate conversation, and a short prayer, closed this interview. As I rode home by departing daylight, a solemn tranquility reigned throughout the scene The gentle lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep just penned in their folds, the humming of the insects of the night, the distant murmurs of the sea, the last notes of the birds of day, and the first warblihgs of the nightingale, broke upon the ear. and served rather to in- crease than lessen the peaceful spn nity of the evening, and i's corresponding effects on my own mind. It invited and cherished just such meditations as my visit had already in- spired. Natural scenery, when viewed in a Christian mirror, frequently affords very beautiful illustrations of divine truth. '12 We are highly favored, when we can enjoy them, and at the same time draw near to God in them. Soon after this, I received a hasty summons, to inform me that my young friend was dying. It was brought by a ai ldier, whose countenance bespoke seriousness, good sense, and piety. ''I am sent, sir, by the father and mother of Elizabeth W , at her own particular request, to say how much they all wish to Fee you. She is going home, sir, very fast indeed." " Have you known her long," I replied. "About a month, sir; I love to. visit ihe sick, and hearing of her case from a serious person- who lives close by our camp, I we it to see her. I bless God that ever I did go. Her con- versation has been very profitable to me." " 1 rejoice. %&\d 1, "to see in you, as I trust, a brother soldier. Though we differ in our outward regimentals. I hope we serve under the same spiritual Captain. I will go with you.'" My horse was soon ready. My military companion walked by my side, and gratified me with very sensible and pics con- versation. He related some remarkable testimonies of the excellent disposition of the Dairyman's Daughter, as they appeared from some recent intercourse which he had had with her. "She is a bright diamond, sir," said the soldier, ''and will soon shine br'gbter th.m any diamond upon earth " Conversation beguiled the distance, and shortened the ap- parent time of our journey, till we were nearly arrived at the Dairyman's cottage. As we approached it, we became silent. Thoughts of death, eternity, and salvation, inspired by the sight of a house wh-re a dying believer lav, fi led my own mind, and, I doubt not, that ot my companion also. No living object yet appeared,, except Ihe Dairyman's dog, keeping a kind of mute wn'ch at the door; fur he did not, as formerly, bark at :ny approach. He seemed to partake so far of the feelings appropriate to the circumstances of ihe family, as not to wish to give a hasty or painful alarm. He came forward to the liule wicket-gate, then looked back at 2S the house-door, as it conscious there was sorrow within. It was as if he wanted %> say, " Tread softly over the Ihreshold, as you enter Hie house of mourning ; for my master's heart is full of grief.'' A solemn serenity appeared to surround the whole place. It w,as only interrupted by the breeze passing through the large elm- trees whicfc stood near the house, which my imagination indulged itself in thinking were plaintive sighs of sorrow. I gently opened i he door; no one appeared, and all was still silent.' The soldier followed ; we came to the foot of the stairs. " They are come," said a voice whifth I knew to be the father's; ,4 they are come." He appeared at the top; I gave him my hand,' and said nothing. -On entering the room above, I sa* the aged mother and her son supporting the much-loved daughter and sister; the son's wife sat weeping in a window-seat, with a child on her lap; two or three persons attended in the room to dis- charge any office which friendship or necessity might require. I sat down by the bedside. The mother could not weep, but now and then sighed deeply, as *he alternately looked at Elizabeth and at me. The big tear rolled down the brother's cheek, and testified an affectionate regard. The good old man stood at tiie foot of the bed. leaning upon the post, and una- ble to take his eyes from off toe ciiild irom whom he was so soon to part. Elizabeth's eyes were closed, and as yet she perceived me not. But over her face, though pale, sunk, and hollow, the peace of God, which pa^eth all understanding, had casta triumphant calm. The soldier, after a short pause, silently reached out his Bible towards me, pointing with his finger at 1 Cor. 15: 55-57. I than broke silence "by reading the passage, ".0 death where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the streng h of sin is the law, ' But thanks be to Gud, which giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." At ihe sound of these words her eyes opened, and some- thing like a ray of divine light beamed on her countenance as she said, "Victory, victory J through our Lord Jesus Christ." 24 She relapsed again, taking no further notice of any one present. '•God be praised for the triumph of faith," I said. "Amen," replied the soldier. The Dairyman's uplif ed eye showed that the Amen was in bis heart, though his tongue (ailed t utter it. A short struggling for breath, took place in the dying young woman, which was soon over, and then I said to her — " My dear friend, do you not feel that you are supported ?" "The Lord deals very gently with me," she replied. * "Are not his promises now very precious to you ?" " They are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus." "Are you mnch ir? bodily pain?" " So little that I almost* forget it!" "How good the Lord is!" "And how unworthy am II" " You are going to see him as he is." 11 1 think 1 hope 1 believe that J am." H She again fell into a short slumber. Looking at her mother, I said, " What a mercy to have a child so near heaven as yours is !" "And what a mercy," she replied in broken accents, " it her poor old morher. might but follow her there! But, sir,*it is so hard to part — " " I hope through-grace, by faith, you will soon meet, to part no more ; it will be but a little white." ''Sir," said the Dairyman. " that thought supports me, and the Lord's goodness makes me more reconciled than 1 was." " Father mother ," said the reviving daughter, " he is good to me trust him, praise him evermore." l< Sir," added she in a faint voice, " I want to thank you for your kindness to me 1 want to ask a favor you buried my sister will you do the same for me?" "All shall be as you wish, if God permit," I replied. "Thank you, sir, thank you 1 have another favor to ask When I am gone, remember my father and mother. They are old, but I hope the good work is begun in their souls My prayers are heard Pray come sind see them « 1 cannot speak much, but I want to speak, for their sakes Sir, remember them." The a^d parent- now sighed ami sobbed aloud, uttering broken sentences, and. gained some relief by such an re- pression of their feelings At length I said to Elizabeth, "Do you experience any doubts or temptations on the subject of your eternal safety?" "No, -sir; the Lord deals very gently with me, and gives me peace." " What are your views of the dark valley of death, now that you are passing through it?" " It is not dark." ".Why so?" "My Lord is there, and he is my light and my salvation." "•Have you any fears of moie bodily suffering? ' "The Lord deals so gently with me, I can trust him." Something' of a convulsion came on. When it was past, she said again and again, '•The Lord deals very gently with me. L >rd, I am thine, save me — Blessed Jesus — Precious Saviour — His blood e'eanseth from all sin — Who shall separate? 1 — His name is- Wonderful —Thanks be to God— He giveth us the victory — I, e^ en I, am savecU- irace, mercy, and wonder — Lord, re- • ceive ray spirit. " Denr sir —dear father, mother, friends, I am going — but' all-is well, well, well " She relapsed again — We knelt down to prayer — The Lord 1 was in the midst of us, and blessed us. - She did not again revive while I remained, nor even speak* any more words, which could be und rstood. She slumbered' for about ten hours, and^at last sweetly fell asleep in the arms' of the Lord, who had dealt sageutly -wit'i her , # I left the house an hour after she had ceased to speak. I" pressed her hand as I was taking leave, and said, "Christ Is'' the resurrection and the life." ' v he gently returned the pressure, but could neither open her ' eyes nor utter a reply. I never had witnessed a scene so im- pressive as this before. It completely filled my imagination as I returned home " Farewell," thought I, "dear friend, till the morning of air eternal dav shall renew our personal intercourse. Thou wast s brand plucked from the burning, that thou raighteat become* 2K star shining i n the firmament of glory. F have seen thv light, and thy good works, and I will therefore glorify our Father which is in heaven. I have seen in thy example, what it is to be a sinner freely saved by grace. I have learned front thee, as in a living lyirror, who it is, that begins, continues, and ends the work of faith and love. Jesus is a'l in all; he will and shall be glorified. He .won the crovn and* alone deserves to wear it. May no one attempt to rob him of his glory; he saves, and saves to the uttermost. Farewell, dear sister in ' the Lord. Thy fie»h and thy heart may fail ; but God is the strength of thy heart, and shall be thy portion forever." I was soon called to attend the funeral of my friend, who breathed her last shortly after my visit. Many pleasing yet melancholy thoughts were connected with the fulfilment of this task. I retraced the numerous and important conversa- tions which I had held with her. But these could now no longer be held on earth. I reflected on the interesting and improving nature of Christian friendships, whether formed in palaces or in cottages; and felt thankful that 1 had so long enjoyed- that privilege with the subject of this memorial. I ..indulged a sigh, for a moment, on thinking that I could no longer hear lhe great truths of Christianity uttered by one who had drunk so deep of the waters of life, But the rising murmur was -checked by the animating thought, "She is gone to eternal res f — could I wish to bring her back to this vale of tears r v As I travelled onward to the house where lay her remains in solemn preparation for the grave, the tirst sound of a tolling bell struck my ear. Tt proceeded from a village church in lhe valley directly beneath the ridge of a high hill, over which I had taken my way — it was Elizabeth's funeral knell. It was a solemn sound, but it seemed to proclaim at once the blessed- ness of the dead who die in the Lord, and the necessity of the living pondering these things, and laying them to heart. On entering the cottage, I found that several Christian friends, from different parts of the neighborhood, had as- sembled together to show their last tribute of esteem and re- gard to lhe memory of the Dairyman's Daughter. I was 'requested to go into the chamber where the relatives 27 and a few other friends were gone to take a last look at the remains ot Elizabeth. * If there be a inoment#when Christ and salvation, death, judgment, heaven, and hell, appear more than ever to he momentous subjects of medit ttion, it is. that which brings us to the side ot a coffin containing the body of a departed believer. Elizibeth's features were altered, but much of her likeness remained. Her'father and mother sit at the head, her brother »t the foot of the collin, manifesting their deep and unfeigned sorrow. The weakness and infirmity of old age added a character to the parent's grief, which called for much tender- ness and compassiou. A remarkably decent-looking woman, who had the manage- ment of the few simple, though solemn ceremonies which the case required, advanced towards me, saying, "Sir, this is rather a sight of joy than of sorrow. Our dear friend Elizabeth finds it to be so. I have no doubt, She is be- yond all sorrow. Do you not think she is, sir? 1 ' "After what I have known and seen, and heard," I replied, I feel the fullest assurance that, while her body remains hero, her soul is with her Saviour in Paradise. She loved him here, and there she enjoys the pleasure-; which are at his right hand for evermore." " Mercy, mercy upon a poor old creature almost broken down wit.h age and grief, what shall I do ? Betsey's j:one — my daughter's dead. Oh I my child, I shall never see thee morel God be merciful- to ine a sinner!" sobbed- out the poor mother. l ' That last prayer, my dear good woman," said "I, "will bring you together again. It is a cry that has; brought thousands to glory. It brought your daughter thither, and I hope it will bring you there likewise. He will in no wise cast out any that come to him." il My dear," said the Dairyman, breaking the long silence he had maintained, "let us trust God with our child, and let us trust him with our ownselves. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away ,' blessed be the name of the Lord! We are old, and can have but a little farther to iravel in our jouruoy, and then" — he could say no' more. 28 The soldier before mentioned reached a Bible into my hand, and said, '• Peihaps, sir, you would not object to reading a chapter before we go to the churchy" I did so ; it was the fourteenth of the book of Job. A sweet, tranquility prevailed while I read it. Each minute" that was spent in this funeral-chamber, seemed to be valuable. I made a few observations on the chapter., and connected them with the case of our departed sister. " I am but a poor soldier," snid our military friend, "and have nothing of this world's goods beyond my daily sub- sistence; but I would not exchange my hope of salvation ki the next world, for all that thi.s. world could bestow without it. What is wealth without grace ? Blessed be God, as [ march about from one quarter to another, I still find the Lord wherever I go ; and thanks be to his holy name, he is here to- day in the midst of this company of the living and the de;id. I feel that it is good to be here." Some other persons present began to take a part in the con- versation, in the course of which the life and experience of the Dairyman's Daughter were brought forward in a very inter- esting manner ; each friend had something to relate in testi- mony of her gracious disposition. One distant relative, a young woman under twenty, who had hitherto been a very light and trifling character, appeared to be remarkably impressed by the conversation of that day ; and I have since had ground to believe that divine prace then began to influence her in the choice of that better part, which shall not be taken from her. What a contrast d ies such a scene as this exhibit, when compared with the dull, formal unedifung. and often inde- cent manner in which funeral parlies assemble iu the house of death 1 But thfl time for departure to the church was now at hand. 1 went to take my last look at the deceased. There whs much written on her countenance: she had evidently departed with a smile. It still remaned, and spoke the tranquillity of her departing son}; According to the custom of the place she was decorated with leaves and flowers in the coffin ; these in- dead -were fading flowers, but they reminded me of that Para- • 29 dise whose flowers are immortal, and where h.r never-dying soul is at rest. I remembered the.last v ords which I had heard her speak, and was instantly struck with the happy ihough% !hat u death was indeed swallowed up in victory*' As I slowly retired. I said inwardly, " Peace, my honored sister, to thy memory, and to vty soul, till we meet in a better world.'' In a little time the procession formed ; it was rendered the more interesting by the consideration of so many that* followed the coflin being persons of truly serious and spiritual character. Alter we had advanced about a hundred yards, my medita- tion was unexpectedly and most agreeably interrupted by the friends, who followed the family, beginning to sing a funeral Psalm. Nothing coiil i be more sweet or solemn. The well- known eO'ect of the open air in softening and blending the sounds of music was here peculiarly felt- The road through which we passed was beautiful and romantic: it lay at the foot of a hijl, which occasionally re-echoed the voices of the singers, and seemed to gtve faint, replies to the notes of the mourners. T ie funeral kne 1 was distinctly heard from the church tower, and greatly increased the effect which this simple and becoming service produced. I cannot describe the state of my own mind as peculi .rly connected with the solemn singing. 1 never witnessed a similar instance before or since. I was reminded of elder times and ancient piety. I wfshed the practice more fre- quent. It seems well calculated to excite and cherish devo tion and religious affections. We at length arrived at t : dly heritage, Press forward . in duty, and wait upon the Lord, possessing thy soul in holy patience. Thou bast just been with me to the g/ave of a departed be- liever. Now • go thy way till the end be; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days." Dan. 12: 13. Note. — The mother died about six months after her daughter, and I have good reason to believe tfat God was merciful to her,' and took her to himself. May every conveited child thus labor and pray for the salvation of their unconverted parents. The ■ father continued for some time after her, and adorned his old age with a walk and conversation" becoming the Gospel. I can- not doubt that the daughter and both her parents are now met together in (i the land of pure delights, where saints immortal reign." THE PATHWAYS OF THE HOLY LAND, The pathways of thy land are little changed Since thou werfc there ; The busy world through other ways has ranged And left these bare. The rocky path still climbs the glowing steep Of Olivet; * Though rains of two millenniums wear it deep, Men tread it yet. Still to the garden o'er the brook it lead:;, Quiet and low; Before his sheep the shepherd on it treads — • His voice they know. . The wild fig throws broad shadows o'er it stii*,- As once o'er thee ; Peasants»go home at evening up t.hfit bill To Bethany. And as, when gazing, thou did'st weep oVr them, From height to height Tho white roofs of discrowned Jerusalem Burst on our sight. These ways were strewn with garments once, and palm Which we tread thus; Here through thy triumph on thou pn3sedst, calm, On to thy cross. T be waves have washed fresh funds upon the shore Of Galilee; But chigellcd on the hill-sides ever more Thy paths we see. •Man has not changed them in, that sr.unb'ring land. Nor time effaced; Where thy feet trod to bless, we still may stand.: All can be traced. Vet we have, traces of thy footsteps far Truer than these ; Where'er the poor and tried and suffering are, Thy step3 faith sees, 'Nor with fond, gfed regrets thy steps we trace ; Thou art not dead : *Our path is onward, till we see thy face And hear thy tread. And now, wherever meet thy lowliest -band In praise and prayer, There is thy presence* there tky Holy Land; Thou, thou art there.