tainty of being weighed in the balance and found wanting. Conscience, like a lagger in duty, now shows me what I have left undone: oh, that I had listened to its still small voice, when it first whispered truth to my heart. But folly had sounded her tocsin, and all remonstrance was vain. Oh," added she, with sudden and awful animation-"Oh, that I could at this moment assemble the young, the thoughtless, and the vain, around my dying bed; I would thrill to the centre of their hearts, a warning that could never be forgotten. I would say to them, 'Behold the fruits of folly, and see the end of fashion!' That idol, like Juggernaut in his triumphal car, crushes beneath his armed wheels, the wretches who prostrate themselves at his shrine. Behold a victim, who, forearmed and forewarned, has yet offered up her soul to the monster! I go to receive the award of my deeds, done in the flesh against the warning of the Spirit. Oh! let none suppose that an outward conformity to the rules of any church, is religion. I have mistaken the shadow for the substance; and oh! that I could be the last victim of such delusion. Bring forth the trappings of fashion-the wages of sin -the price of my immortal soul! See here," and she held up various articles of decoration-" See here: for this, and this, and such paltry, contemptible trifles, did I forsake the path of salvation, and follow the multitude to destruction. Yes! the road to ruin is indeed a beaten track, and many there be that follow it; while that narrow path that leadeth to eternal life, has few, and far between, along its peaceful track. Oh, that I had been one of those few!—I might have been; for I had warning -timely warning," said she, turning to me. "But it is too late the wheel has but few revolutions to make around the cistern, before the cord will be broken, and the spirit released for ever! Mother," said she, turning

to her afflicted parent who just then crept into the room -"mother, I request that all my trinkets may be sold for the benefit of the poor; after having destroyed my soul let them do some good in this wicked world; and oh, dear mother, bring up my little sister to dress plainly, and not to love pleasure as I have done; make her sensible from my example, of the ruinous consequences of sin; for, oh mother! though your kindness has given it another name, my life has been spent in sin. Oh, the warnings that I have neglected-the spiritual evidences that I have resisted. Now they all appear perfectly comprehensible to me; now the veil of vanity is removed. Oh how slight is its texture-how lighter than gossamer its materials! and yet it obscured my mental vision as effectually as midnight darkness: it concealed truth from my mind, until it is too late to derive any benefit from its holy radiance."

She continued to speak in this manner, until a violent paroxysm of the consumptive cough impeded her utterance. The cough brought on a discharge of blood from the lungs, and the physician forbade farther exertion of speech. But oh, the eloquent agony of that silent countenance! I knelt beside her, and prayed, but she made signs that prayer was unavailing. Yet I could see that her own mind was engaged in agonizing supplication. Her eyes were upraised, and cold drops of dew stood on her livid brow. One of her ornaments, a diamond ring, still hung on her emaciated finger. She took it off, and pointing to a Bible which lay on the table, put the ring in my hand. I asked her if she wished the ring to be disposed of, and its proceeds spent in Bibles for the destitute? she signified her assent by a significant gesture. She then opened a casket which stood near her, and took out a splendid watch and seals, and the same moment opening the Bible, she laid them on this sen

tence-"Go preach my gospel unto all nations." I asked if she gave it to the missionary cause? another signal of assent closed our conference, for she soon fell back in a state of insensibility, from which she never entirely recovered. But oh, how different was the expression of her dying countenance, from that of your mother, my Mary. The one was a foretaste of heaven, the other betokened fearful doubts and agonies. I cannot describe the situation of the mother, when all was over. She then awoke to a full extent of misery. "My child is gone, and they say she is not gone to heaven! How is that? Was she not a Christian?-Am not I a Christian? Who dares deny it? I am a believer, and will not suffer myself to be shaken by fanatical reveries!" Such were her ravings for a time; but I left her completely humbled, and imploring every one to pray for her, that she might be converted to true religion.

Alas, how common a case is Agnes Somerton's! How many deceive themselves to the last moment, with the hope, that they at least (if no others) will be permitted to serve God and Mammon; to carry divine truth about, without using it; to believe in Christ, and yet not serve him; to have the reward promised to faithful servants, without having done any thing to merit it. Oh, could such people be assured, that they cannot have their good things in this world and the next too; that they must serve God diligently, or they will not receive the wages of service! They must choose between time and eternity; and when their choice is made, they must abide by it. Choose now, my dear Mary, and let yours be a right choice. O, may you have grace given you to abide by it, prays

Your true friend.

LETTER XIV.

MY DEAR MARY,

I have endeavoured to direct you in the acquisition of that friend who sticketh closer than a brother, and I will now give you my ideas upon the subject of those ties which you will form with your fellow pilgrims on the journey of life.

Friendship, in its purity, is indeed a rich treasure, and a delightful solace to the cares and troubles incident to humanity; but it is not so easy a thing as is generally imagined, to form and maintain this union consistently and effectually. It has been my aim in these letters, to discuss candidly the defects attributed to your sex. Inconstancy, both in friendship and in love, is one among the number. But again I must affirm, that this vice is the growth of weak minds, of whichever sex they may chance to be. The reason why female friendships are so often unstable, is obviously because they are carelessly formed. Indeed, I will not allow the term friendship to be applied to the sentimental connexions contracted in the nonage of reason, and under the pupilage of an ill-ruled, exuberant imagination. Neither do I dignify with that consecrated term, the acquaintanceships and companionships contracted under boarding-school auspices. Friendship, in its true acceptation, signifies a union of hearts which endures through time, and if my hopes do not deceive me, through eternity also. It is not a provisional, conventional agreement, destined to fulfil a stipulated good, and to be dissolved. It is not an interested connexion, which may be broken when it has yielded certain good offices. Neither is it a chancemedley assortment, in which hearts are brought into

contact for a brief space, and then separated for ever. It is a union of souls, sanctioned by divine authority, and intended for the reciprocal benefit of the parties united. It cultivates all the social virtues, and fosters the rational sensibilities of man. No selfish, weak person can be a good friend: no versatile, capricious mind can maintain this connexion. It requires disinterestedness, firmness, and tenderness, to form an indestructible union of souls, such as deserves to be recognized by the Father of all in heaven. In my own opinion, there is a sanctity in the term friend, which prevents me from bestowing it without deep consideration. There is nothing so much talked about, and so little understood, in this world, as friendship. The connexions which bear that name among us, with few exceptions, are slightly formed ties of interest, or taste, or convenience, or chance, brought together with a breath, and dissolved in the pronouncing of a sentence. They are no more to be compared to the real bond, than the unspun flax to the twisted cable. But enough of similitudes.

It is my wish that you should perfectly understand what friendship is, that you may be able to form and maintain for yourself, this inestimable support and solace under the trials of life. Choose then a firmminded, amiable-tempered, warm-hearted woman. Study her character until you understand it thoroughly. If you discover traits that you think are incompatible with the preservation of friendship, recede in time from a strict union, and content yourself with holding her in a subordinate grade of regard; but if your affection is firm enough to stand a few uncongenial traits, you must resolve to bear the burden faithfully, when once you have assumed it. Should your friend prove selfish or capricious, you must prepare to endure many trials of feeling as well as patience. It is hard indeed, to put up with