what her father had said of her excelling sister. She was perfectly pleased at it, and answered, "That as she was the youngest, she was the more gay and cheerful, and pleasing to her father; she always saw that he most delighted in her, and that she was indeed a most lovely daughter and sister."

The whole conversation that afternoon was upon her. Philomela told me that this sister loved her to a great excess; it was often troublesome to her; she would ever be with her, and broke in often upon her retirements for study; and when they retired by consent to composing, she would generally bring more lines written, but, as she thought, too hastily. The younger daughter was wont to invent ways to try the affection of her sister, and to win it more and more, would often complain that she returned not equal love. She related me several childish ways of endearment, which I well remember, and, then proceeded to give me the account of her death.

"It was," said she, “in my sister's death that my father was to be tried; but it was I that was taken ill, and my illness prevailed to a very alarming degree; and when the physicians declared my danger and the little hope they had of my recovery, this dear sister came to me with a visible concern, and earnestly besought me to tell her whether I was ready and willing to die if God should call me from them by this sickness, for she was afraid I should die, and she could not comfortably part with me only to go to Christ; she hoped, therefore, my interest in him was comfortable and clear to me. I earnestly turned to her, aud said, 'Why, sister; do they think me in such hazard? I must confess to you that my distress would be great on account of my soul, if I thought my death were now coming on, for I have not that full assurance of my interest in Christ which I have always begged of God I may have before he pleases

ELIZABETH ROWE AND HER SISTER.

to call me hence.' No sooner had she heard me say this, than she fell down as in an agony on her knees by my bedside, and in a manner inexpressible for fervor and humility, she begged of God that if her father must have the grief of burying one of his children, it might be her, for through his free grace, and to the glory of it, she could joyfully profess before him her assured hope of an interest in his everlasting mercy through Jesus Christ; therefore she could willingly surrender herself to die, if it might please God to grant her sister a further space of time for the making her calling and her election sure! Having prayed thus in a transport the most surprising and astonishing to me, she kissed me," said Philomela, "and then she left the room without giving me time or power to answer her a word. And what is almost incredible to relate, from that hour I grew better, and recovered, but she took to her bed and died in a few days."

"Conceive, if you can, Mr. Coleman," said she, "how astonished I was at this event of Providence, and overwhelmed with sorrow! Yet I recovered health; but the load of grief and wonder upon me, at this strange occurrence, confined me to my chamber for five or six weeks. My chief work was to consider the mind of God in this his mercy to me, that I might make it evident, by his grace with me, that in love to my soul he had wrought this. I set myself to comfort my father what I could, and this was also his care toward me; nor durst we be inconsolable under a bereavement so circumstanced; yet my mourning is always returning to this day with the remembrance of a love as strong as death."

Signed,

BENJAMIN COLEMAN.

SERIOUS QUESTIONS.

THERE is a God. He preserves, and he can destroy you. Do you daily think of him?

You have a soul. Do you care for it? You care for your body, but do you properly care for your soul? You are a sinner. Do you know how a sinner can be saved?

There is a Saviour. Are you anxious that he may save you?

There is an awful hell. Are you seeking to escape it? There is a glorious heaven. Are you in the way to it?

You must soon die. Are you prepared for the solemn change?

You must appear at the judgment seat of Christ. What will then be your lot?

There is an eternal state after death. Is yours likely to be an eternity of bliss, or an eternity of woe?

You must be pardoned through the blood of Christ, and sanctified by the Spirit of God, or you cannot be saved. Are you daily seeking these blessings?

"Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." Are you living a holy life?

There is a book able to inform you on these subjects, and to make you wise unto salvation. Do you search the scriptures?

Nothing is worth a thought beneath,

But how I may escape the death

That never never dies

How make my own election sure,
And when I fail on earth, secure
A mansion in the skies!

"BRAIL up! brail up!" the Fisher cried, "My boy, dont look so pale,

Although the storm comes thund'ring on

I've seen a fiercer gale.

Down with the helm and never mind

Though scarce the boat can swim,

There's ONE All Good that rules the wind

Have faith alone in Him.

Name not thy mother, my poor boy,
That thought unmans me too,
For you and her form all the joy
This hapless heart can know;

Yet still if He who rules should will
The ocean for our grave,

Dont pipe, but be obedient still,

Tis He alone can save."

"She lives! she lives!" before the blast

The boat still held her way,

Till safe at last, all dangers past,

She anchor'd in the bay.

"My boy! my boy!" the fisher cried,

And wiped his eyes now dim,
"Remember who rules land and sea,
Have faith alone in Him."

HOW A GOOD THOUGHT GROWS.

Ir was late in the year 1802, when a good minister, named Mr. Charles, was walking through the streets of Bala, a small town in Wales. He had not gone far when he met a little girl whom he knew. He asked her if she could tell him the text from which he had preached on the last Sabbath. Instead of giving a ready answer, as she had been in the habit of doing to his questions, she hung down her head in silence, “Can you tell me the text, my little girl?" said the minister. Still she was silent, and burst into tears. At last she said, "The weather, sir, has been so bad, that I could not get to read the Bible." "Could not get to read the Bible! how was that?" He soon learned the cause; there was not a copy of the word of God to which she could get access, either at her own home, or among her friends; and she used to travel seven miles, over the hills, every week, to a place where she could get a Welsh Bible to read the chapter from which the minister took his text on the Sabbath. But, during the week, the cold and stormy weather had kept her from her usual journey.

A sailor's word for weeping.