standing wherefore I turned from her, and why I did not answer, said,

Sir, I fear by the freedom of my speech, I have offended you. You perhaps do not remember Susan Gray. My father and mother lived many years ago in the little cottage on the river-side just below

the church.

By this time I had recovered myself, and turning to her I took her hand and said, poor young creature, do you think it possible that I should be offended at your innocent joy on seeing me. No, my daughter, I have not forgotten you: I have not ceased to remember with affection your worthy parents. But where have you lived since the death of your aunt? what has reduced you to this state? have you met with no friends in this world to protect you; and to supply to you the place of your lost parents?

She replied with a degree of piety which filled my eyes with tears of joy, I have not indeed, sir, met with many friends; but that God who is the Father of the fatherless has not forsaken me. I have had many trials and temptations, she added, and those who ought to have been my protectors laid snares for me. But I trusted that "Jesus "Christ, who gave himself for our sing, "would deliver me from this present evil "world, according to the will of my God

" and my Father." Gal i. 5, 4. And praised be God, said she, clasping her hands together, he has delivered me; I am now above the power of wicked pleasures. Although I am poor, sir, continued she, and soon must die, yet I am not unhappy; and now I am so far on my journey, I would not, were it in my power, be restored to health, and return again into the busy and wicked world.

While she was speaking she grew very faint so for the present I besought her to speak no more of the things that were past, telling her that I hoped, should she get better, to hear all her history. Then taking up a prayer-book which lay by her side, I read a few prayers to her; for I saw she was not able to go through the whole of the service for the sick with me; and then having wished her a good night, and promised that I would visit her again the next day, I hastened home.

When my wife heard my account of Susan, late as it was, she put on her hat and cloak, and having made a little gruel, and warmd it with a glass of our best made wine and some spice, she herself went down into the village to see the poor girl. As she passed by, she called upon Nurse Browne, a good old woman, whose cottage is close by my garden gate, and engaged her to

attend and wait upon the poor sick girl till her disorder had taken some turn either for the better or the worse; if death to so good a girl, as Susan proved to be, can be said to be worse than a restoration to health.

But methinks I run rather too much into length in my story; for although my wife's kind attention to Susan Gray still in reflection give me the greatest, the most heartfelt pleasure, yet strangers may not take the interest in them which I do; I shall therefore shorten this part of my story.

For about ten days my wife and I continued to visit Susan in the poor lodging house; at the end of which time she was so much better, that we removed her from thence to Nurse Browne's cottage, which being higher up the hill, and situated on the same sunny bank with my house, we thought would be more cheerful and airy for the poor girl.

Nourishing food and good nursing had done much for her; but still the doctor, who sometimes visited us from Ludlow, declared she could not live. She had caught a cold, which had fallen upon her lungs, and was in a deep decline, which we believed would probably end in her death before winter. But although she as well as those about her knew that she was in a dying state, yet never did I see a more cheerful or

happy creature than she was when we brought her to the nurse's cottage.

Thank God, she was not in much pain, and she had made her peace with him; her lamp was trimmed, and she was prepared for the long journey which she was soon to take. She spent many hours of the day in reading and prayer, and sometimes at noon, when the sun was high in the heavens, and the air was warm, she would sit at the door of the house, looking around her upon the green woods, the river rolling through the meadows, and the church upon the hill, where she hoped her body would be laid beside those of her dear parents, whilst her soul was mounting far above the clouds to that happy place, where "those "who have endured temptation shall re"ceive the crown of life, which the Lord "hath promised to them that love him." James i. 12.

Whilst she was at this cottage, she by little and little, when she found herself able, told us her story, which, much as we loved and admired her before, rendered her still more and more dear to us.

But before I relate it, as I intend to do, to the best of my power in her own language, 1 must address a few words of my own to those young women who shall hereafter read the history of Susan Gray.

I am an old man, being seventy-four last old Christmas-day: I have been a Rector of this parish forty years; and during that time I can say with King David, “I never

saw the righteous forsaken, nor his seed "begging their bread." Psalm xxxvii. 25. I will not say that misfortunes do not sometimes come upon very good people; but God is "a strength to the poor man who "fears him, a refuge from the storm, a "shadow from the heat." Psalm xxv. 4.

Yet whilst I affirm this for the encouragement of those who try to serve their God to the best of their power, I must not hide from you who shall read this, what has been the end of all the bad people whom I have been so unfortunate as to know since I lived in this village. I will speak particularly of bad women. I never knew a vain, a light, or bold girl, whose end in this world was not shame, poverty, or disease. For a time a bad young woman may seem to prosper; she may deck herself in silver and gold, she may paint her face and tire her head like the wicked queen Jezebel. But these are the words of God, "Hear now this, thou "that art given to pleasures, that dwellest "carelessly, that sayest in thine heart, I am "and none else besides me; evil shall come upon thee, thou shalt not know "from whence it riseth: and mischief.

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