those who should "strive to enter in at the strait gate," but should not be able. Her spirit was overwhelmed with horror, her feelings were expressed in groans and tears. "Lord save me, or I perish," was at last her agonized cry, and her determination was, through divine grace, to cast herself at the feet of the Saviour; for, said she, " if I perish, I will perish there." This self-dedication was soon followed with a feeling of joy and peace in believing. have," she now tells me, "continued in the faith to the present hour, 'hitherto the Lord hath helped me,' I am not much upon the mount, indeed, I am oftener in the valley, but yet I have a good hope through grace."

Thus have we given a short outline of Mrs. Neville's history, as it regards her reception of divine truth. Like Jacob, she had wrestled for the blessing, like Israel she had prevailed: but in pursuance of our object, we must enter with more minuteness into particulars. This we propose to do in the ensuing chapter.

CHAPTER II.

hen let me seek that mightiest One,

Who, while adoring seraphs bow,
Looks down from his eternal throne,
The widow's lonely lot to bless,

And soothe and save the fatherless."

Dale.

We have said that Mrs. Neville had to struggle with difficulties; her husband and her children were torn from her by the hand of death. Two little grandchildren were left, the sole surviving relics of her family. Their fath er had forsaken his humble home in early life. In an unhappy, thoughtless hour, he enlisted into the army. After which, many years passed away that brought no tidings to gladden the hearts of his sorrowing parents, for alas! those years were spent in the pursuit of unhallowed pleasure—in the haunts of folly and vice. It was from scenes like these, he was called into active service; and in the field of battle he received in his bosom the fatal ball "commissioned to destroy." His final moments were few;

his mortal conflict with his last most potent foe was short and decisive: alas! no parent, no friend was nigh to administer to the wants of expiring nature. Whatever might have been the state of his mind at this solemu moment, there was no friendly breath to enter into his sympathies, no one to direct his dying eyes to Calvary's cross. His body was found after the battle, and, with his comrades who had fallen around him, shared one common grave. The sad news was conveyed to his wife and mother. The former had been for some time in ill health, and did not long survive this overwhelming stroke. The children were consequently left almost altogether friendless and destitute. They were removed to the parish, but the tenderhearted grandmother pressed the orphans to her bosom, and putting up a prayer for the protection and blessing of that divine Being who hath promised to be a father to the fatherless, resolved to share with them her frugal and often scanty meal.

Not many months before this afflicting event, she had followed to the grave the remains of the husband of her youth, and also of a daughter, who had given promise of no small excel

B

lence, and whom she hoped would have been the solace of her declining years. She had seen this dear child sinking gradually into the tomb. A wasting decline withered the rose from her cheek—the bloom of youth gave way to a death like paleness. Her light and agile step became slow and feeble, and her vigorous frame weak and imbecile as that of the helpless infant. Mrs. Neville attended the sick bed of her darling child, with all a mother's anxious solicitude-she closed those eyes upon which she had been wont to gaze with fondness, such as only mothers feel-she resigned her treasure into the arms of everlasting love, and this was the language of her pious resignation, “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord." Her husband had been afflicted for several years, and soon after the death of his daughter, it was the will of heaven that he should be released. Thus was she called upon to give up another object of her love. They had lived' happily together, his industry and her carefulness having kept them above want. Their station was humble, but by their conduct they made it respectable.

Mrs. Neville mourned her bereavement, but she did not then mourn with the bitterness of those who have no hope: her husband and her child had died in the faith; and though the trial was severe, she knew that her loss was great *gain to them, and through the faith of Christianity she could look with holy confidence to a re-union with them in another and a better world. "I shall," she said, "go to them, but they will not return to me.”

Not such, however, were her feelings when the intelligence of her son's death met her distracted ear, coming, as it did, with such poignant severity. For a time she sunk beneath the stroke-no tear fell to relieve the burning anguish. She looked upon the fatherless babes, deprived also of a mother's care, and her heart was wrung for a while with a deep and exquisite agony. It was not the loss of her son, nor the destitute state of the children which occasioned this overwhelming distress, she knew that God had promised protection to the widow and the orphan, and she relied upon his word: but that her son should so die, cut off, she feared, in his sins, and so sent to his account-this, this was fearful to her soul.