ll is right, and as the Lord of wisdom and mercy
directs."

"Oh, my Betsy, my dear girl, is so bad, sir. What shall I do without
her? I thought I should have gone first to the grave; but--"

"But the Lord sees good that, before you die yourself you should behold
your child safe home to glory. Is there no mercy in this?"

"Oh, dear sir! I am very old and very weak; and she is a dear child, the
staff and prop of a poor old creature as I am."

As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, supported in an
arm-chair by pillows, with every mark of rapid decline and approaching
death. A sweet smile of friendly complacency enlightened her pale
countenance, as she said--

"This is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I sent to you. You
find me daily wasting away, and 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 was occasionally interrupted by her cough and want of
breath. Her tone of voice was clear, though feeble; her manner solemn
and collected; and her eye, though more dim than formerly, by no means
wanting in liveliness as she spoke. I had frequently admired the
superior language in which she expressed her ideas, as well as the
scriptural consistency with which she communicated her thoughts. She had
a good natural understanding, and grace, as is generally the case, had
much improved it. On the present occasion I could not help thinking she
was peculiarly favoured. The whole strength of gracious and natural
attainments seemed to be in full exercise.

After taking my seat between the daughter and the mother (the latter
fixing her fond eyes 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 can rest all upon
Him who has 'been with thee,' and has 'kept thee in all places where thou
hast gone,' and will bring thee into 'the land of pure delight, where
saints immortal reign.'"

"Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been sometimes clouded, but I
believe it has been partly owing to the great weakness and suffering 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?