bodied soul had joined his beloved sisters before the throne, where the pang of no separation will ever overtake them. We reflected on his infantile age-on the humbling and apparently gracious effects, through the power of God, which the affliction he had witnessed produced-on the evident employment of instruction, imparted in days of health, for separating his affections from the world and raising his thoughts to heaven. Above all, we reflected, with gratitude and humble confidence, on the spirit of supplication which we so remarkably felt poured on ourselves during all the term of his illness, protracted as it was beyond our expectations; and which we knew to be poured not on us alone, but on others also in his behalf. As each of our dear children had been called away, we published the event, saying, "Perhaps some Christian friend may be induced to pray for us.” And during the closing scene of Alick's life, when sympathy was strongly awakened, our hope in this was strikingly realized. Pious friends, near and at a distance, as several have since informed me, were moved to pray for us, and especially for our dying boy. We reflected, that if the Lord gave this spirit of supplication at such a time-if he enabled ourselves to take hold on his strength, and raised up others

to plead for us, it was that, when thus "inquired of," he might do the thing we asked. For "this is the confidence that we have in him, that if we ask anything according to his will, he heareth us: And if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him."

On the 17th of May, exactly one month from the date of dear Matilda's funeral, the mortal remains of our beloved Alexander were laid in the grave. He was placed on her right hand, his coffin touching her's on that side as Jessie's did on the left.

"The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass."

CHAPTER IV.

"Those that are broken in their heart,
And grieved in their minds,

He healeth, and their painful wounds
He tenderly upbinds.”

BUT the story of our sufferings ends not here;
for our cup of sorrow was not yet full. And
when I trace these words and look back, I feel
amazed how nature supported the accumulated
load of affliction wherewith it pleased God to
visit us. Nature, did I say? Alas! long ere this,
it had been overwhelmed, but for that grace which
was vouchsafed, and to the power of which we
were such striking witnesses. "Bless the Lord,
O our souls, and forget not all his benefits."
"Trials must and will befall;

But with humble faith to see
Love inscribed upon them all—

This is happiness to me."

Our second daughter, Ann, had just passed

her ninth birth-day. and happy beings who make friends of all who know them. Her natural temper and disposition were particularly amiable; and, pleased and contented with everything herself, she never harboured a suspicion of a contrary feeling in the mind of others. Like her sister, she had been apt to learn; and, besides having her mind stored with the truths of Scripture, and many psalms and hymns, she, too, had made considerable progress in secular education.

She was one of those rare

She had suffered little from hooping-cough and the subsequent fever, and, until near the close of Alick's illness, was considered quite recovered. Some days before his death she complained of pain in her side, but a sinapism and some simple medicine removed it, and she was again quite well. The fluctuation of feeling, of hope and fear, which agitated us with regard to Alick, was not communicated to the other children; for it was evident, that they all began to tremble as if they were set apart to death, and to feel as if one after the other was to be smitten down. We sought to cheer them, and to support their minds, as we best could, by referring to His grace and mercy in whose hands their life was; but at length it became impossible for us to conceal our

own dejection and uneasiness about their dear brother.

On one of the days towards the end of Alick's last week, Ann came to her mother and said, "How is poor Alick to-day?" She was tenderly attached to him, and from the beginning of his attack evinced the deepest interest in his fate. Her mother's answer was not encouraging; on which she added, with an expression of the deepest anxiety, “Surely Alick is not going to die, mama?" Her mother's look told but too truly her fears; and though she said much to soothe her under her evident distress, the shock to her feelings was a severe one. Immediately thereafter, as she told us subsequently, she felt a sudden pain dart through her head, which never forsook her.

That evening it was thought advisable to apply leeches to her forehead. Next day, though she got out of bed, and manifested her usual cheerful equanimity, the leeching was repeated, and other means employed, with apparently good effect; but on Sunday it was necessary to confine her to bed, and blistering on the back of the head was added to the other treatment. Nothing of all this would, probably, have been resorted to, but for our past experience, which quickened