length, however, she said—"Oh! how rejoiced I am that I had such a father, and how powerfully do I feel these truths; yes, I long, I long to 'depart to be with Christ, which is far better.'

In such conversation was much of the evening spent, till at length, Miss O'Brien finding it was time for her to retire, said—" I have brought you, my love, a little book which I have written, and which contains some account of the experience of a dear departed sister, who died in the faith some years ago, and who is now in happiness. Your mamma often visited her. You will find, in this little work, some account of your mamma's conversations with her. I think you will find it very beneficial; for, poor dear girl, she was, though young, a very tried believer.

"I have also brought you a little present in this locket. It is one half of the lock which your mamma gave me of her hair. The other part I shall retain for myself.

"But here is a keepsake more valuable still. This was your mamma's own Bible, with her name written in it, which, when she removed from she gave to me as a token of her affection.

Never would I have parted

with it but to you; and I am well assured that such a disposition of it your mother would approve. Take it, my dear, with my prayers that it may be useful to you, as it was to your dear, dear mamma."

ance.

Jane's sobs completely choked her utterMiss O'Brien kneeled down by her and prayed; afterward, she kissed her repeatedly, and grasping her hand, bade her farewell. "When will you come again?" said Jane. "Oh, do come again and see me !"

"I will as soon as Providence permits," said Miss O'Brien; and, to conceal her feelings, hastily withdrew.

CHAPTER VIII.

Jane was now possessed of an invaluable prize. She pressed it to her heart; she would read it, turn to her mother's name and kiss the inscription; when she retired to rest, place it under her pillow, and never, during the day, would she allow it to be away from her; so highly did she value this precious memorial of a mother now in heaven.

But her cough was now become more troublesome; her night sweats were much more severe, and within a few days after her intercourse with Miss O'Brien, she was altogether confined to her bed. She could no longer read her Bible. The faithful Margaret, however, was more and more unremitting in her attentions. She read constantly to her, or conversed and prayed with her as her strength would bear. She saw that as her charge's outward man decayed, her inward man was renewed' day by day; and although the pains of body she suffered were very severe, yet her mind was calm and composed. She was softly and sweetly sinking into rest upon the bosom of her Lord.

6

It was a truly edifying spectacle to witness this young Christian, as, in the attitude of faith and hope, she waited for the final summons to call her home;—her deep sense of unworthiness, her meek and uncomplaining patience, her grateful sensibility for the kindness bestowed upon her, and her steady, unshaken reliance upon her Lord. It was delightful to listen to her, when, only in broken sentences, she could speak of the love of Christ, bearing her dying testimony to that grace, to which she was in

debted, and rejoicing in the hope of the glory to be revealed."

The physician, who had frequently conversed with her, could not withhold his expressions of surprise at the great degree of mental illumination, and the pious resignation, the patient, who was so young, evinced; and after such a conversation, he turned one day to Margaret, as he was leaving the room, and said,—" Nurse, I would give all I have, could I but believe and feel as your young lady does."

But the time was fast drawing on for her departure, and a few days only before she died, she seemed to entertain a presentiment that the time of her dissolution was at hand. "I shall not spend another Sabbath day on earth, Margaret," said she; "my next Sabbath will be an eternal one above." Often did she repeat this sentiment; and the result showed that her expectation was correct.

Her sister Mary, who now more frequently saw her, was often kindly addressed by her, and at times seemed deeply affected. She now regarded also Margaret with different feelings to those which she once felt. The uniform and affectionate attentions which she had seen this kind attendant pay to her sister,

her confidence and esteem.

won upon Jane had by degrees intrusted her with the secret of their parents' history, which had exceedingly surprised her, and impressed her mind powerfully on the side of religion; but she was far from being decided: she was yet entangled in the meshes of the web which the world had spun around her heart, and though convinced of the importance of religion, her convictions were not sufficiently powerful or abiding; she even, in fact, 'halted between two opinions.' She was pleased with the sight of her mother's Bible, and with the perusal of her mother's letters, some of which she had seen in the chamber of her sister; and both Margaret and Jane indulged in the hope that she would ultimately decide on the Lord's side.

Two days previous to her departure, Jane, for the last time, addressed her; urged powerfully, though in short and broken sentences, the vast importance of eternal things upon her mind; and, finally, presented to her the memorial of their departed mother—the lock of hair which had been given to her, and the Bible, which, now in turn, she begged her to read and pray over.

The scene was truly affecting. Mary re