fectly recovered." Alas! of her recovery, there was little probability; she was dreadfully emaciated, and seemed declining very rapidly in a sort of atrophy; and although she had still considerable remains of muscular strength, and her physicians gave some hope, yet her altered voice, and pale, ghastly countenance, were but too certain indications of the termination to be expected.

She

Her medical attendants decided that she should be sent as soon as possible, to the South of France, whither I promised to accompany her; but as in consequence of the war, it was necessary to wait for passports, disease had made such progress before they arrived, that it was become quite impossible to make the attempt. had expected these passports with great anxiety; and after they came, when Sir George Baker, and Sir Richard Jebb, by whom she was attended, told her, that they had changed their mind as to her going abroad, and devised the most plausible reasons they could invent, to account for it; she said to me, when they had left the room, "I see through all this subterfuge; they told me that going to a warmer climate, was the most likely means for my recovery; we waited for passports, I am grown worse, the passports are come, and now they say they have changed their minds; I believe they have nohope of my recovery."—" I assure you, my love, they have never told me so." "Perhaps they may not, but I am persuaded it is so, notwithstanding."

Young as she was, she had accustomed herself to habits of reflection on every subject which occurred. I shall give the following specimen.— "What is become, my dear, of your dolls? dolls? you never play with them now, as you did last year, in Yorkshire." "I will tell you the reason. You remember that very pretty wax doll, which was my favourite; I knew to be sure, that it had neither life nor sense, and yet I had a real love for it. One day as I held it in my arms, and was running across the staircase, my frock caught upon something that threw me down; my doll was broken, and the accident caused me so much real grief, (which you know was very foolish) that I determined never to have another."

After the physicians had decided against any attempt to send her abroad, and she discovered the reason, she was extremely desirous of knowing all that could be known of a future state; particularly, if we should meet again and recognise each other; and was very desirous of having such parts of the New Testament read to her, as might throw any light upon this subject. "Select for me," she would say, "what is most suitable to my case." The evening of her death in particular, she would not part with me for an instant. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "of what importance to me now, is every reinaining moment?"-Then pausing, as if wholly absorbed in thought-"Can you tell me ?-shall I see the light of to-morrow's sun?"-" I cannot tell you that, my love; but do not alarm or distress yourself; the same great and good Being who first gave you life, and who has surrounded you

by so many blessings, will still preserve and take care of you. We have the certainty, you know, that as our Lord, Jesus Christ, was raised from the tomb, so shall his faithful followers be raised also;-that, as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." "Ah! butwhen, or how, or where? perhaps not of ages of ages! O! I should have been much happier, if I had never been sent to that school; you do not know what sad things I saw there."-" My love, you did not approve or imitate them, God will not punish you for the faults of others."-"No, he will not, I know he is very very good, yet I wish I had never been there. And now, what must I do? I do so love my papa, how shall I resolve to part with him?"-"God will support you, my dear, and you will meet your papa again."-" But I had hoped to have been happy with him in this world."

As she said this, I thought I perceived a great alteration in her languid countenance; and said to her, "Shall I call your papa, my dear, (who had but just before left the room,) would you like to see him now?"—"To be sure I should," she eagerly replied; do send for him." On his approaching the bed-side, she raised herself from the pillow with great animation, and throwing her feeble arms around him-"Do you love me, my papa?""Yes, my dear, I do love you, beyond every thing in this world." Then disengaging herself from his embrace, she turned to me and said, her fine countenance faintly illumined by a placid smile ; "Now I feel I can resign myself," and then lay

ing her head again upon the pillow, she instantly expired, in the 13th year of her age.

What would be our feelings on the loss of so charming a young creature, whose fine intellectual powers were just beginning to unfold themselves, and seemed capable of indefinite expansion and enlargement, were it not for the ardent hope, and firm belief of a glorious hereafter.-In cases like this, even Reason has something to depose that is extremely consolatory; for if it be true that not one single particle of matter, although continually changing its station, is ever annihilated, can it be believed that the spiritual part of our nature, that by which we are capable of endless improvement, and eventually of assimilating to angels and archangels, though it may and does change its mode of existence, and vanish from our sight, should therefore be totally and for ever extinguished?

CHAPTER 29.

The Author and her mother fix at York....Their plan of life. ....The Author engages with Mrs. Gray, in establishing a Spinning School....In regulating the Grey Coat School.... Attends the ministry of Mr. Cappe....His very dangerous illness... The Author goes into Craven.....Forlorn situation of her brother there....Visits a sick friend in Oxfordshire....Flourishing state of the Schools.... An un founded report....A letter written....Motives misinterpreted.

ON the 19th of June, in the year 1782, my mother and myself took possession of our new

habitation in York. It was on a small scale indeed, but well suited to our slender finances; and so comfortable did it seem to have once more a dwelling of our own, free from the apprehension of perpetual pecuniary demands, which we had not the power to satisfy, that we both of us experienced a return of tranquillity, to which for some years we had been strangers. In respect to our kind neighbours, my two aunts, we thought it best to begin as we meant to continue. One day in the week we determined to give up to them; and I made it also a rule to spend an hour or two with them every day, which I did generally in an evening after supper, detailing to them such little occurrences as might contribute to their amusement; but we avoided as much as possible, being regularly of their afternoon parties.

As I had often been in York, and had occasionally gone into public there, I was well acquainted with many of the principal families, and was on terms of intimacy with several of them. It was true that I had suffered considerably in the esteem of some, by having avowedly left the Church, but they gave me credit in general, for meaning well; and I should without difficulty, have been admitted to their parties, had it been convenient; but to have accepted continually of invitations, without the power of making a suitable return, although it might do well enough for a mere bird of passage, would have been neither respectable nor comfortable for a stationary inhabitant. These invitations, therefore, were refused by degrees, and at length,

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