NOTE. Charlotte Elizabeth was born in October, 1790, and wrote the Personal Recollections near the close of 1840, when fifty years of age. She continued her active Christian beneficence, and the brilliant and unceasing labors of her pen, in editing the Protestant Magazine, and other writing for the press, until the very close of life. "Immediately after breakfast," says a brief sketch of her remaining years, "she went to her desk, locking the door to exclude interruptions; and when her pen was laid aside, her garden afforded ever new delight; and with her, gardening was no light occupation. She smiled at lady gardeners who only enjoyed the labors of others. From the moment the gravel-walks and beds were formed, all was the work of her own hands; and the most laborious operations were to her refreshment and enjoyment. Each plant, each bed was familiar to her. She knew their history, their vicissitudes, and the growth and expansion of each became a source of lively and never-failing interest. The emotions produced in her mind by the brilliant tints of flowers, can only be compared to those of music to others, and this love of color was regulated by the most delicate sense of harmony in their disposition and arrangement. The writer wears at this moment a small diamond ring, which she kept in her desk, and would place on her finger only when engaged in writing; the occasional flashing of the brilliants as the light fell upon them, producing most pleasurable sensations in her mind, and greatly assisting the flow of her thoughts and imagination. Her countenance, at such moments, would light up with animation, and if an inquiring glance were turned to her, she would smile, and add, 'Oh, it was only the diamonds.' "Often would she lay down her pen in the midst of some work requiring the whole energy of her mind, and much concentration of thought, and go to her garden for half an hour; and while apparently wholly absorbed in pruning or transplanting, she was really engaged in her work; and the apparent loss of time was amply repaid by the rapidity with which she wrote out the ideas conceived and matured during this healthful recreation. A word, however, spoken to her at such times, would have caused a most painful interruption in the current of her thoughts--she compared the effect to a stone thrown into a quiet running brook--and would utterly disable her from writing during the rest of the day, a circumstance not easy to impress on the minds of servants. Even those who would most carefully refrain from addressing her when they knew she was actually writing, could hardly understand that like care was needful when she was thus employed over her flowers.