The many losses and calamities brought on Hamburg in consequence of the French occupation in 1812, led her to retrench her expenditure by doing her own washing. For a whole summer she washed all her own clothes in secret. She also endeavoured to learn dressmaking and cooking, and besides these household accomplishments, gave some attention to others of more use in society; but the instruction of youth was the only vocation that seemed to satisfy both her intellect and heart. In 1817 her brother Gustavus died at Berlin while studying for the ministry. He was the nearest in age to herself, and had been her chief and favourite companion. The stroke was heavy, and intensely felt. Amelia herself says, “I had not felt so deeply the death of my father, still less that of my elder brother. This profound grief became a turning-point in my life.” At the pressing invitation of her now, alas! only brother and sister-in-law, she visited London in June, and found refreshment for her own heart at the sight of their domestic happiness. Soon after her return from England, the house next to the one where she lived in the city was burned down, and five persons perished in the flames. This event impressed her deeply. Thomas à Kempis’s “Imitation of Christ” now fell into her hands, and its devout and tender teachings shed a balm over her wounded spirit. She sought explanations of the Bible from all the books that came in her way; but unfortunately they were all rationalistic in their tone, and gave no light. At last Francke’s “Preface to the Bible” fell into her hands, and there she was taught to compare the different passages one with another, and to apply all she read to herself by prayer. She was hungering and thirsting after righteousness, and the promised blessing was soon to be hers. In June, 1819, she says: “I feel myself now strongly inclined to adopt the orthodox doctrine which I have so long rejected, but I must have clearer light on it first.” That clearer light was soon given to her, in conversations with an evangelical pastor of the name of Rautenberg, and at last she arrived at childlike faith in “that most comforting doctrine of atonement.” The biographer of Miss Sieveking, in a memoir in itself of unusual interest and value, by means of apt quotations from her diary and letters, has presented us with a very complete portraiture of her outer and inner life. From these extracts we learn, that in her early years she was in the habit of casting lots, when in difficulty as to the path of duty; but in after-life she discontinued the practice. Doubtless, like many others, she was led to feel that we have no right to ask for a sign in circumstances which are sent to train us in the use of our judgment. We also find her complaining of a certain slowness and awkwardness in the transaction of business, which often prevented her from managing all her household and social duties to her satisfaction.