support of religion, is imperfectly gained by us. "I have not time to write more. I doubt if I have explained myself intelligibly, but more of this at some future period. I presume there is an appearance of vanity in one paragraph, which I will some time explain. "MARY." This fervid religious interest and enjoyment seems to have filled her heart, and absorbed her thoughts, more and more, until, in the following summer, it led to a personal interview with Dr. Channing, of the most interesting kind, to be described only in her own words. "_Boston, July 10, 1817._ "There is a certain state of feeling, or I may now say passion, in which the heart must either find relief in utterance, or burst; when all the powers of mind and body are suspended, and thought, feeling, sensation, are all centred in one sole object. It is at such moments as these that we feel the true value of a friend who will submit patiently to our detail, and sympathize in all. I have just had a long--(I do not know what to call it)--with our dear minister. You know how long I have wished, yet dreaded it. That I should ever have _dreaded_ it appears now a most astonishing fact, except that I knew it would humble me to the dust. And why should I not be so humbled? "It chanced that grandma was too unwell to see him; and I, though not in the most composed state of mind that can be imagined, was to sit down alone with him, fully determined to improve the opportunity and say all that I had so long wished. I put on as collected an appearance as could possibly be required, and, trembling at the very centre of my heart, met him with a smile of joy. Indifferent subjects soon entirely subdued all kind of internal embarrassment, (external, I did not permit,) when, to my great annoyance, C---- walked in! O that I could have rendered him invisible,--deaf, dumb,--any thing, for the time being! But patience triumphed; I contrived at last to let him understand that I wished him far away. He took the hint, but when he rose to go, Mr. Channing did so also! I could not but detain him. How I did it, or what followed on my part, I know not; I heard all he said, I laid every word carefully aside in my mind to be enjoyed at some future period, but how foolish, how weak, how every thing irrational _I_ was, I cannot, dare not, think. I told him as well as I could, with what views and feelings I presumed to deviate from the path in which I had been led by my parents, what he had done for me, and what I hoped to do for myself. I could not have been intelligible, but I will not regret that I attempted, though I could not succeed. I am relieved by what he said of many unpleasant, oppressive feelings. I felt that I was detaining him, or I might have been rather more collected. What