rned by enemies, and pitied by friends. I was called
hypocrite, saint, false deceiver, and many more names, which were meant
to render me hateful in the sight of the world. But I esteemed the
reproach of the cross an honour. I forgave and prayed for my
persecutors, and remembered how very lately I had acted the same part
towards others myself. I thought also that Christ endured the
contradiction of sinners; and, as the disciple is not above his Master, I
was glad to be in any way conformed to his sufferings."

"Did you not then feel for your family at home?"

"Yes, that I did indeed, sir; they were never out of my thoughts. I
prayed continually for them, and had a longing desire to do them good. In
particular, I felt for my father and mother, as they were getting into
years, and were very ignorant and dark in matters of religion."

"Ay," interrupted her mother, sobbing, "ignorant and dark, sinful and
miserable we were, till this dear Betsy--this dear Betsy--this dear
child, sir--brought Christ Jesus home to her poor father and mother's
house."

"No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought your poor daughter
home to tell you what he had done for her soul, and I hope, to do the
same for yours."

At that moment the Dairyman came in with two pails of milk hanging from
the yoke 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
daughter.

"Blessing and mercy upon her!" said he, "it is very true; she left a good
place of service on purpose 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
sha'n't have her here long."

"Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. "All our times are in his
hand, and happy it is that they are. I am willing to go; are you not
willing, my father, to part with me into _his_ hands, who gave me to you
at first?"

"Ask me any question in the world but that," said the weeping father.

"I know," said she, "you wish me to be happy."

"I do, I do," answered he; "let the Lord do with you and us as best
pleases him."

I then asked her on what her present consolations chiefly depended, in
the prospect of approaching death.

"Entirely, sir, on my view of Christ. When I look at myself, many sins,
infirmities, and imperfections cloud the image of Christ which I want to
see in my own heart. But when I look at the Saviour himself, he is
altog