When I now contemplate the spiritual state of dear Mary's mind for the last twelve months, I am not at all surprised that the Lord has taken her as a ripe shock of corn, but my expectation while watching her spiritual progress was so different. I saw her daily growing in the simple assurance of her Lord's love, and desiring under heaven neither to know nor serve any other than him. Her heart was panting for the Lord's coming, that the mystery of iniquity might be finished, and the mystery of godliness be fully established; but I thought not of all this being preparatory to her joining her Lord, but for the strengthening of my poor weak hands here. It never entered my heart that I was to be left alone, as far as earth is concerned, most alone. Those friends for whom this journal is alone designed, know how much she was to me, and how deservedly so: this, however, the Lord saw had its great, great dangers too, and may in his infinite mercy to us both have ripened her so rapidly for glory, and left me here to serve and praise; for I have felt it was very, very hard to be as the Apostle says, having a wife as though I had none. Now, when I go and look upon her having reached within one short step, the habitation of all her hopes; I have not a spiritual affection within my soul that would call her back; but poor nature bows reluctantly its head. The dear little baby also is but poorly. Her dear little cry of mamma, mamma, cuts my poor heart like a knife, to think, that from to-day or probably to-morrow, she must cease to know that endearing name, and such a mother too! However, the Lord tells his children to leave their fatherless, and doubtless motherless ones to him. Lord, I desire so to do; for he is a dear and kind father, though _nature_ cannot always see it, and indeed how could this be? for that which is _natural_ in us is, not only in its will opposed to God, but even in its best affections tainted from the fall. Were it not that the Lord whom we love and serve, is as infinite in his compassions, as he is mysterious in his ways, the days that must come when the excitement of present suffering will be past, and my soul begins to look round and see the extent of its desolations, in a country, too, where there is nothing to comfort or cheer me, would appear to me too dark to be borne, did I not know the Lord hath said, I will not leave you orphans, but I will come unto you; so if he does come and dwell more sensibly within me, even my poor dull and slow-growing spirit may soon be ripened and gathered into his kingdom, there to join my dear departing spirit in the realms of light.