before she left, notwithstanding the many trying things before mentioned; for after leaving that Circuit, she frequently paid the friends an imaginary visit, and often talked of their manifested sympathy, and their manifold acts of christian kindness. A grateful recollection of which I hope ever to cultivate. I believe she was at all times anxiously solicitous to see the cause of God prosper, and her mind was painfully exercised when at any time there was likely to be a disappointment; and although she never considered herself called to the great work of preaching, yet she sometimes read one of Wesley's sermons, or something which she thought would be profitable to the people; and I know that in some cases, she was made a blessing. Not many months previous to her being taken ill, she went in company with a friend seven miles, to prevent a disappointment; and her prayers for the prosperity of Zion were fervent and unceasing. She also felt much concerned for her Father's spiritual welfare :tears frequently filled her eyes when talking about him, and I have no doubt, but what God has witnessed the earnestness of her soul many a time when pleading in his behalf. Sometimes she felt desirous to be present when his earthly career should terminate; but in this, perhaps, we hardly know what we desire; and the sequel of this account, will show that our desires may be gratified at a costly sacrifice. It was not often that she visited her aged parent, not because she was destitute of affection, or deficient in regard to him; but for other reasons that we will not now assign; nevertheless in August, 1854, having previously had a presentiment that her Father might not live long, she made up her mind to pay him one visit more, remarking at the time that, perhaps, it was the last time she should see him in time. She went, and found the family as well as usual; but she had not been at Selsea many days, before the English Cholera, or Diarrhoea, made its appearance in a most destructive form, proving fatal in several cases in a few days; and on August, 23rd, I received a letter containing the painful intelligence that one of our little girls, who had been staying at her grandfather's a few months, was dangerously ill of Diarrhoea and that no hopes were entertained of her recovery. I arrived at Selsea the next day about noon, and to my great joy found the dear child alive; but so ill that the family had sat up all night expecting every minute to be the last. The Doctor had given it as his opinion, that she could not live, but contrary to this opinion, and the expectations of all who knew the case, she recovered, and I believe she was spared in answer to prayer. Bless the Lord. But while rejoicing on the child's account, I became alarmed on the account of others, for on Wednesday, August 30th, my dear Kezia and her father were taken ill: and so powerful was the disease, that it terminated fatally in the case of the father, on the following Monday. About four days later, the youngest child died, and three more of the family were taken ill.

But to return to the subject of these remarks. Her position was now an exceedingly critical one. Her system had received a severe shock a few days previous, which no doubt facilitated this awful disease, and the most vigilant attention was now necessary; but, alas! I too was taken ill, and could no longer act the part of a nurse, and

our affliction was increased through other causes. The scenes I saw, the sounds I heard, and the circumstances altogether, I would at once and forever, obliterate from my recollection, if possible. I trembled for consequences when we had to remove into a room from which a corpse putrid with disease had been removed but a day or two before; but we had no alternative. My illness lasted about two weeks. As soon as I got a little better, having consulted the Doctor, I thought it advisable to remove from this spot, as soon as possible; hence, after realizing one disappointment, I succeeded in getting lodgings at Mrs. Willshire's, (an old acquaintance, friend, and associate of my dear Kezia). My mind was now relieved of a great weight of anxiety, and being confident that she would have all the care and attention possible paid her by Mrs. Willshire and her sister (for whose kindness to me and mine, I shall ever feel indebted, and pray that heaven may recompense) I returned home with two of my little girls, who had escaped the disease, no doubt, through the kindness of friends, in taking them to their houses, away from the place of contagion.

My dear departed one, after experiencing a premature accouchment, gained a little strength, and on Thursday Nov. 16th, she arrived at Birds Isle, exceedingly weak; but she endured the fatigue of the journey much better than I had anticipated. From this time she gradually improved up to Good-Friday, 1855. The next day she was not quite so well, but we thought it might arise from the bustle and excitement of the Tea Meeting we held in behalf of the Chapel the previous day. However, as she got no better, the Doctor was called in, and he informed us that she was very ill, but that she might recover, if her strength was sufficient to bear a course of medicine: that, he added, time must tell.

His endeavours to rally the system were abortive; and she gradually sank under the influence of the disease. Her cough became more distressing, and her body greatly emaciated; and however contrary to my wishes, I could clearly see that her dissolution was fast approaching; and although for some time she hoped against hope, she was at length convinced of the fact. She bore her affliction with exemplary patience, and never complained of her sufferings. Nevertheless, her mind was painfully exercised about the Doctor's bill, and several times she said to me O, my dear! What will the Conference say about my bill? What a long bill it will be." &c. I endeavoured to calm her mind on the subject, by telling her that as God in his inscrutable, but wise providence had seen fit to afflict her, it could not be avoided; but I know it caused her much uneasiness at times. I was far from being easy on the subject; for I could wish from my heart (if it be the will of heaven) never to be any expense to the Connexion in that way. Another cause of uneasiness for a time, was myself and the dear children. She had a severe conflict before she could give us up. She would look at us sometimes and say, "O! that I could take you all with me; then I should be happy.' I told her not to grieve about the children-they were mine, and that I should love them none the less if she was taken from them. Her reply was, "O my dear! but I know what I have passed through." However, after this she said but little on the subject: and I believe her mind was quite relieved on this head.

Her prospect for heaven was very clear. To a neighbour she wished to see (who occasionally washed for us) she said, "I shall be gone before you come again. I am going to heaven." The person said, "I hope so." "O yes," she said, "I am, I know I am going to heaven." Adding, "O! Mrs. Bailey, what should I do without religion ?"

On Monday, September 3rd, at 4 o'clock in the morning, she became very restless, and said to me, "I am dying, &c.," and to all human appearance, from that time until 10 o'clock she was grappling with the last enemy. She kissed the dear children-bade them good bye, and told the eldest, that she should be in heaven before 12 o'clock. She told me I must give her up, (O! the pang of that moment). She thanked the friends present for their kindness towards her; informed them that she was going to heaven; and exhorted us all to cleave to the Lord. Br. Woodman after suppressing his emotions, asked her, if Jesus was still precious; and a few other questions to ascertain the state of her mind and her hopes of heaven; the whole of which she answered without hesitancy, and very satisfactorily. She made choice of the spot where her earthly remains should rest in hope until the resurrection morn-named the persons that she wished to carry her thither, and the Brother she wished to bury her, observing at the time, that she did not wish to trouble any of the sons of the Clergy; but her hour was not yet come, and she had to stay with us a little longer.

Tuesday evening she again became very restless. The Doctor calling at the time, she asked him if he thought she should survive till the morning. He said that he could not tell. She fixed her eyes on him, and with great emphasis said, "I hope I shall not." O! what penetrating words were these. On leaving, the Doctor inform ed me that she might live forty-eight hours, or she might die in six hours. Thursday morning about four o'clock, she wanted to know what I was going to do with her, and finding that I was willing to comply with her wishes as to the place of burial, &c., she appeared quite satisfied, and on entering the room in the forenoon, she looked at me with a smile, and said, “Come my dear, one kiss more, then I have done with earth." I believe at that time every earthly tie was dissolved, and she was anxious to go. She said that she had seen her Mother and Brother, and that she was nearly over; but had to come back again, and said that she thought I had not given her up. Something like the following conversation followed. "Would you not like to stay with us a little longer ?" "No, not now: not now." "Would you rather depart ?" "Yes." "Why ?" "To be with Christ which is far better." "Are you not afraid of death" "Afraid of death! No! What should I be afraid of death for? O! it is but a little thing to die-a very little thing that, my dear." And she shouted, "Victory, victory through the blood of the Lamb." None but christians can look at death as a little thing. The thought of death makes thousands tremble; but the christian smiles. Praise the Lord.

About midnight she became very restless, and knew not what to do with herself; and this restlessness continued till about five o'clock, A.M., when she became more composed; but refused nourishment. She appeared to suffer much at times, yet she said she was not in

VOL. XXI. THIRD SERIES.

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pain. She took but little notice, though quite conscious, and requested me several times not to leave her.

Friday night about 11 o'clock she took a little milk and bread, but directly after became very uneasy, and wished me to take her up, and then to lay her down, which was done several times. At length, she said, "O! am I going, my dear ?" Going, where ?” "To heaven. O! am I going to heaven ?" I told her that I did not know how soon; but thought it would not be long. She answered, "I am dying;" and turning on one side she grappled with the last enemy very hard for about an hour, when nature yielded to the conqueror, and she achieved a glorious victory, on Friday about midnight, September 7th, 1855, aged 35 years.

O! Death: thou enemy of mankind. What hast thou done? Thou hast torn unrelentingly and cruelly from my grasp, my much beloved and dearest earthly friend-the partner of my bosom-the sharer of my joy and grief. Her whose presence cheered the domestic circle, and on whose lip the little ones hung with delight, while she talked to them about God, heaven, and heavenly things. O Death! thou hast made a breach thou canst not repair, and still goest onward devouring the human race; but thou too shalt have an end; for thou shalt devour thyself and die. "The last enemy to be destroyed is death." It is hard to give up those we really love, and it is not all at once we believe them gone. Is my much loved one indeed gone? It is all still! I spoke, but received no answer! I touched her, but she heeds it not! I gently shook her, but she remains unconscious! I raised her hand, but it drops inactive by her side; and many a time, on entering the room, I looked round as though I should hear her voice, or meet her eye; but no! I am disappointed. She continues to sleep, and the words of the Poet rush. into my mind with irresistible force while I look on the form ;—

"The Lord gave:" yes, every good thing is from the Lord; and "he that findeth a wife findeth a good thing.' "A prudent wife is from the Lord." If oneness of aim, oneness of object, oneness of mind, oneness of heart, and oneness of soul are sufficient proofs, they existed, and were delightfully realized. Yea, I have every reason to believe that in the order of a wise and inscrutable providence, the Lord brought us together. "The Lord gave ;" and after allowing us to enjoy each other's company, and experiencing nearly ten years -I had almost said perfect-but I will say, true domestic happiness, "the Lord hath taken away;" and I can add, "blessed be the name of the Lord ?" If I listen to the voice of nature-if I consider the loss I have sustained, and the disadvantages under which I labour in consequence--if I look upon my three motherless little girls, I cannot; but when I recollect that our loss is her infinite gain--that she is released from complicated, protracted, and severe affliction and pain-that she is delivered from sin, and Satan's influence and

power

that she has fought the fight, kept the faith, and finished her course --that she is gone to the regions of blessedness, where the inhabitants shall no more say, I am sick; and where tears shall be wiped

from all faces, to gaze on the perfections of Deity, and behold her God with unveiled face-to realize unsullied joys-undying honours, and unfading glories, I can say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord." Yes!

"Tis over now-and O! I bless thee, Lord,

For making me thus desolate below ;

For severing, one by one, the ties that bind me

To this cold world; for whither can earth's outcasts
Fly-but to heaven ?

O the sweet assurance that the Lord hath taken her to himself. She is gone! O! may I meet her in the skies.

It was not until the following Wednesday that I felt to adopt the language of the good old Patriarch, when he said, "Give me a burying place that I may bury my dead out of my sight." Up to that time she appeared to be resting in unconscious sleep-the countenance pale, but beautifully calm and placid, very much inclined to a sweet smile; but now indications convinced us that decomposition had commenced. Hence on Thursday, September 13th, I had to address myself to the melancholy duty of burying my dead. A conveyance with the remains of my beloved wife and bearers, and another with the family and friends, moved on slowly and mournfully to the spot of her own choice, and in the clayey soil of the earth was deposited the dust that was once my dear Kezia. Perhaps it is not until we have laid them in the grave, and arranged the earth above them, that we feel that our friends are really dead and gone from us for ever-that the last memorial of them has vanished from the earth! Nevertheless, being at length convinced that she is gone, I would. say, Sleep on, my dearest one, until the declaration of Jehovah shall be verified, "I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death. O death! I will be thy plague; O grave! I will be thy destruction." Then mayest thou awake on the beautiful morning of the resurrection to sleep no more for ever.

On the following Sabbath Br. W. H. Hosken improved this mysterious dispensation of Divine providence to a large assembly, by informing us from the highest authority, that "the day of death is better than the day of one's birth." It was a solemn and an impressive season, and no doubt impressions were then made, that time itself will not erase. May it be so. Amen.

Allow me, my dear Brother, through your pages to express my sincere gratitude to the Brethren and friends who have sympathised with me in my painful bereavement; and for the expressions of sympathy contained in their letters of condolence which I have received; and by which I have been consoled and comforted. By one I am reminded that my dear Kezia "is not lost but gone before;" by another, that "Heaven will henceforward be increasingly dear to you, from the fact that your earthly loved one is there;" by another, "that I have one tie less on earth; but, O! cheering thought! another attraction in heaven-the partner of your joys and sorrows still lives and blooms in another clime." Believing the following extract from the letter of a much esteemed brother calculated to console others in similar circumstances with myself, I forward it.

"The dispensations of Providence, my Brother, are indeed myste