ould now no longer be maintained on earth. I reflected on the
interesting and improved nature of _Christian_ friendships, whether
formed in palaces or in cottages; and felt thankful that I had so long
enjoyed that privilege with the subject of this memoir. I then indulged
a selfish sigh for a moment, on thinking that I could no longer hear the
great truths of Christianity uttered by one who had drunk so deep of the
waters of the river of life; but the rising murmur was checked by the
animating thought: "She is gone to eternal rest--could I wish her back
again in this vale of tears?"

At that moment the first sound of a tolling bell struck my ear. It
proceeded from a village church in the valley directly beneath the ridge
of a high hill, over which I had taken my way. It was Elizabeth's
funeral knell.

The sound was solemn; and in ascending to the elevated spot over which I
rode, it acquired a peculiar tone and character. Tolling at slow and
regular intervals (as was customary for a considerable time previous to
the hour of burial), the bell, as it were, proclaimed the blessedness of
the dead who die in the Lord, and also the necessity of the living
pondering these things, and laying them to heart. It seemed to say:
"Hear my warning voice, thou son of man. There is but a step between
thee and death. Arise, prepare thine house, for thou shall die and not
live."

The scenery was in unison with that tranquil frame of mind which is most
suitable for holy meditation. A rich and fruitful valley lay immediately
beneath; it was adorned with cornfields and pastures through which a
small river winded in a variety of directions, and many herds grazed upon
its banks. A fine range of opposite hills, covered with grazing flocks,
terminated with a bold sweep into the ocean, whose blue waves appeared at
a distance beyond. Several villages, hamlets, and churches, were
scattered in the valley. The noble mansions of the rich, and the lowly
cottages of the poor, added their respective features to the landscape.

Do any of my readers inquire why I describe so minutely the circumstances
of prospect and scenery which may be connected with the incidents I
relate? My reply is, that the God of redemption is the God of creation
likewise; and that we are taught in every part of the Word of God to
unite the admiration of the beauties and wonders of nature to every other
motive for devotion. When David considered the heavens, the wor