a e derived from any thing short of God, will avail us in the solemn and important hour of death. All the vanities which the world terms accomplishments, will then appear of little value. Yes, my beloved companion, in that moment we shall find that nothing will suffice to hide the real nakedness of the natural mind, but the furnished robe, in which the child of God shines with purest lus. tre-the Saviour's righteousness. Oh! that we might, by the assistance of God, deck our souls with the allperfect rule! Our souls are of infinite importance, and an eternity of misery, "where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched," awaits us, if we no not attend to their concerns. I should be happy my amiable friend, in visiting you this spring; but with reluctance I must decline your generous offer. A dear and beloved parent is in a declining state of health, and we fear, if indulgent heaven do not interpose, and stop the course of his sickness, death will deprive us of his society, and the grave open to receive him. O that his life might be spared, and his health once more established to cheer his family and friends! But in all these afflictive dispensations of God's providence, may it ever be my prayer, "Not my " will, O Lord! but thine be done."

mer.

I do not expect to attend Bradford Academy this sumWe shall have a school in Haverhill, which with my parents' consent, I expect to attend. Do visit me this spring, my dear Miss W.; your letters are always received with pleasure. My best wishes for your present and eternal happiness attend you. I am yours, &c.

HARRIET.

May 10. Harriet's father is dead. This dear, this amiable girl has followed to the gloomy grave her be

loved parent. O that God, the almighty God, would comfort and support her under all her trials!

[Letter from Miss ATWOOD to Miss WOODBURY, wrote immediately after the death of Miss ATWOOD'S father.

FROM MISS HARRIET ATWOOD.

Haverhill, May 24, 1808.

In the late trying and afflictive scenes of God's providence, which I have been called to pass through, I have flattered myself, that the tenderest sympathy has been awakened in the heart of my beloved Fanny. Oh my companion! this is a scene peculiarly trying to me. How much do my circumstances require every divine consolation and direction, to make this death a salutary warning to me! The guardian of my tender years, he who, under God, has been made an instrument in giving me existence; my father, my nearest earthly friend, where is he? The cold clods of the valley cover him, and the worms feed upon his cold and lifeless body. Can it be that I am left fatherless? Heart-rending reflection! Oh my dear, dear, Miss W. may you never be left to mourn the loss which I now experience! Oh that your parents may be spared to you, and you ever honour them, and be a blessing to them, even in their declining years.

Glance a thought on nine fatherless children, and a widowed and afflicted mother. But if we are fatherless, Oh may we never be friendless! May he who has promised to be the father of the fatherless, and the widow's God, enable us to rely upon him, and receive grace to help in this time of need; and although the present af

fiction is not joyous but grievous, Oh that it may be instrumental in working out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory!

Do come and see me. I long once more to embrace my friend, and to tell her what I owe her for all her favours. Adieu, my beloved Miss W.; receive this as a token of renewed affection from your

HARRIET.

May 15. Eliza, my dear sister, is very sick. A few hours, and her state will be fixed. I must follow to the grave another sister, a dear, dear child. I have no hope. of her life. That dear, that sprightly child must find a mansion in the tomb. No longer shall these ears hear her charming voice; nor these arms fold her to my longing bosom. For some time she has been speechless.. Dear, dear child, how much you suffer! O that the Almighty God would make her the subject of renewing grace! O Lord, fit her to inhabit the regions of bliss. O give me strength to bear all the trials which await me, without one repining word, or murmuring thought. Let me ever say, "Not my will, but thine be done.”

May 16. Eliza is gone-my dear, my lovely sister. She has passed the vale of death, and is now, I trust, in glory. I was with her in her last moments, watched her dying pillow, and saw her expire. It was my earnest prayer that she might depart in peace, and it was a comfort to me, that she died like a lamb. Lord, let this affliction be sanctified to the family! O fit me for my latter end, which I view to be near! Let my last hour be as tran

quil and peaceful as hers.

June 25. Time flies away, and I do nothing for God. It seems to me, I am as vile a being as ever inhabited

this guilty world. All is mixed with sin. Every thing appears hateful on the review, and ought to be repented of. Alas, alas! woe is me! I am unclean. Sinful, vile wretch! Is God holy? How then can he bear with a worm, who deserves hell every day! O it is mercy, it is all mercy! Be thankful, O my soul, and bless his holy name.

Sept. 10. This day I am 17 years old. I do not expect to see 17 years more; nor do I wish to, unless I can be useful. I can hardly reconcile myself to the idea of a long life. So sluggish, so stupid, so careless have I been, that if the future should be spent in such a manner, alas! my soul shrinks at the idea. O Lord, fit me for death.

Sept. 24. Felt some freedom in approaching to God., O the felicity of one moment's communion with God! If it is so sweet to draw nigh to him here, O what will it be to see him face to faee in heaven? Can I, O can I live without him! If I love any thing more than God, I do not love him at all. Let me then look into my heart. Is there any one thing I prize more than God? I think I can say I see the vanity of this world, and find it can afford me no solid satisfaction. O why should I live, but to serve and glorify God!

Oct. 29. I have returned from the gay companions with whom I am obliged to associate, glad to retire to my chamber. I have endeavoured to look within, and find I have more reason for doubts and fears than ever. I believe Christians exercise much self-denial; but wherein do I deny myself? There is sometimes a great deal of levity in my manners; and often, after I have indulged it for a moment, I am cut to the heart. Such solemn scenes are before us, that it seems a wonder that any can be gay. I think the Saviour is precious to me, and I know not whom I do love, if I love not him.

Nov. 19. One more week is past, and I am hastening to the silent tomb. I have been apprized of the death of Mrs Emerson. She is gone to be known on earth no more. Shall I not learn to value more that precious Saviour who appeared for her, supported and comforted her in the hour of death? O may I have that religion which was hers, and say in my last moments, as she did, "My Jesus is mine, and I am his !"

Dec. 1. Thanksgiving. This I expect will prove the last anniversary of this kind I shall ever live to see. By the return of another, Fanny's remains may be mouldering under the clods of the valley. No matter how soon, if death fixes me in the embraces of my God and Saviour. "Farewell to sin and sorrow; I bid you all adieu."

LETTER TO MISS N. B. OF BEVERLY.

MY DEAR NANCY,

Without date..

How awful, how dangerous is the situation of the im penitent sinner! He is going on in opposition to a holy God, violating his reasonable commands, rejecting Jesus Christ the Redeemer, and grieving the Holy Spirit. He hangs on the brink of eternal wo, suspended by the slender thread of life. O, if this thread should break, while he continues incorrigible, what must be his portion! Eternal truth shall answer, " Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." O Nancy how dreadful the sentence! What a hell of hells must it be to be separated from God, the only source of happiness! Alas! my heart shrinks from the idea. How can we think of taking up our eternal abode with devils and damned spirits, to join in blaspheming an Almighty God! Is not the thought dis