all its inmates with a deep affection which shrank from expressing itself lest it should offend; anxious to please us all, and grateful for every thing that was done for her. I think I can see her now, with her Bible before her, spending so happily those Sunday evenings which I used to think so long and wearisome, either in preparing for her class in the school, or reading for her own profit. We have found note-books, in which she appears to have entered abstracts of the sermons in Church for her own use.

In one of these she says, June 1st. [1848], "I find great difficulty in keeping my thoughts on heavenly things instead of earthly. I cannot overcome my imagination, and find great difficulty in humbling pride and vanity. I find too much irreverence in my prayers, but pray to GOD to overcome this proud and naughty spirit, and to give me a contrite and humble one. In looking back this last month, I find that I have made very little [progress] in my upward course; but I trust, through the grace of GoD assisting me, I may at length overcome my passions."

Sunday, June 4th. "We have had much thunder and rain lately; it has seemed as if the rain would never entirely go away, but after many very heavy showers, one after the other, on looking at the still slightly clouded sky, I can see a small part of a rainbow. It seems as if GOD still remembered His people, and would give them hopes of a brighter sky and rest from all their sins. Oh! when that glorious day arrives, happy, thrice happy, will they

be who shall enter and sit down at the right hand of GOD! My most fervent prayer is, that I may the number."

be

among

The following extract from a letter written in her fifteenth year to a cousin, to whom she was much attached, shows her anxiety about the welfare of her brother, who was just then going up to Cambridge; and also her longing for Christian sympathy:

66

My dearest E

To Miss E. W—

"October, 1848.

66

*

* William went away last Monday week. It did not seem like going to school, as he will now be left so much to himself; and I dare say you will sympathise with me, when I say I feel anxious about him, as you must have felt much more so when Mleft you. So now, dear E, we can unite in our prayers for our brothers, as they are both placed in great temptation and danger; but we must hope that they will be firm, and that when we again meet, we shall find that both our prayers have been answered.

"Dear E―, I have digressed from my general lively tone in this letter, but I have spoken of that which is uppermost in my thoughts; and, as I am writing to you as a friend, I have put my feelings instead of telling you the news. I shall also value your correspondence much more, dearest Eif you would open your heart to me as you did at Teignmouth: it would be useful to us both, as at any rate we might [grieve] for one another's faults, if we could not give consolation or advice. But, my dearest Edo not be offended at this letter from

one so much younger than yourself; but receive it as it

was meant-in kindness.

"Ever your very affectionate cousin,

"M. H. M. BROWNLOW."

Melise was at school in London from the spring of 1850 until the summer of 1851, and, as may be conceived, found the separation from home very painful. She writes to her mother: "I do not mind the restraint, but I wish we did not do so much on Sunday, but had more time to read our Bibles and to think;-the only time I have for the latter is when I lie awake in bed in the morning for about an hour before we get up." The bell rang for them to rise at twenty minutes past six, A.M.

It was during the summer of 1850 that she was confirmed, and received her first Communion in the Church where she had been baptized, and where she now rests. She was prepared at school, though confirmed at home; and from the letters she wrote to her parents on the subject, it is plain that it was an occasion for devoting herself afresh to the service of GOD.

One of her schoolfellows with whom she contracted a true friendship, unbroken even now, and who has kindly allowed the insertion of the most valuable letters in this memoir, writes thus to my mother: "I thought of her so much in reading the second lesson the other day,' Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, &c.' I

"I

thought dear Melise so answered that description; her childlike trust and confidence, her simplicity, her utter unselfishness were so conspicuous." must speak of myself, that you may rejoice more about her. I was so contrary to all that she was. I did not know what humility was till she taught I thank GOD for her friendship, as for one of the greatest blessings of my life." "I hardly know any in whom I have seen the image of CHRIST, as I did in your darling."

me.

I used to wonder at the little pleasure Melise appeared to take in any public amusements which were then so attractive to me. She seemed to care more for the children in her class than for any exciting pleasure. She never made much progress in music, though she tried to cultivate it to please others; and my father tells me he used constantly to hear her chanting the Psalms and the Hymns of the Church at night in her room over his head; but she loved to sing by herself to GOD far better than to perform even before us, when she was always nervous. She made considerable progress in drawing, but latterly often lamented that it seemed so useless, as she could not devote her talents in that art to GOD. She was very fond of astronomy and natural history, especially of entomology and botany, and never seemed at a loss how to spend her time. She was very reserved, and her voice would falter directly she began to speak on sacred things; so that her letters speak better than her words.

It pleased GOD that in 1852 Melise should be

visited by a very severe illness, which we all feared would prove fatal. Most of the time she lay in a kind of dream; conscious, and yet without control over herself, for the disease attacked her brain; and when it was proposed to give her the Holy Communion, she felt quite shocked-she seemed to herself to have behaved in such a wilful, trifling manner during her illness. Poor child! she once or twice was conscious of her danger, and then she found the thought of death very sweet. But it pleased GOD to restore her to us for a season; and she has since expressed her thankfulness that she was allowed a longer space to prepare for eternity. I can never be sufficiently grateful; for had she died then, I should never have known my sister as she really was and is. The first letter I received which gave me any insight into her real life was in answer to one I had written to her on the death of a young friend of hers in the spring of 1853: I was then preparing for Holy Orders:

"Wilmslow Rectory, Feb. 12, 1853.

"My dearest William,

"Your letter this morning was such a comfort to me. I had long deplored the reserve that existed between us, in things the most important to mortals like ourselves; and I feel so thankful that you begin more to feel the awful responsibility of a Clergyman who has the cure of souls committed to his charge. Poor A—— ! who would have thought three years ago of her being so soon separated from us? and who knows who may be taken next? I often think I shall not long remain here,