afterward: however, this much I will affirm--to the grace of God I owe my all. I feel decided in my choice, hate sin, have the witness that I am a child of God, and enjoy the comforts of the Holy Ghost; but the clear evidence of entire sanctification I do not hold, though I believe I have many times received it, and for a short time held it; but, for want of boldly confessing the faith, have lost the blessed pearl. O for the baptismal flame." In the summer of this year she visited the Rev. John Nelson, then stationed in Sheffield, to whom she was much attached. As was her constant practice, when released from the claims of domestic duty, she availed herself of every opportunity of doing, and getting good. Every day was a sabbath of religious privilege. The church, and the chapel, the social party and the sick bed, were made subservient to purposes of spiritual improvement. With reference to a party of friends, who were invited to meet her, she says, 'After tea the females being left alone, each of us prayed; this is a blessed way to cut off religious chit-chat.' "Quarterly Fast. Mr. Haswell called upon me to pray, when the Lord was pleased to humble me; for which I would be truly thankful. Make me willing any way, only let my soul be brought into conformity with Thy will;--willing to be little, that Thou alone mayest be exalted. My nature is not willing to be thought little. During the day I felt a humble dependance upon Jesus." ON OBSERVING A SIGN IN SHEFFIELD WORDED, "BRIDE CAKES AND FUNERAL BISCUITS." Ah! is the bridal-day, When festive pleasures meet, The presage, but of swift decay, Within the winding sheet? What then is man at best? A blooming,--fading flower; Immortal, in a mortal vest, The creature of an hour. Well then may death be joined Unto our festal days; Well may our pleasures limit find Within so short a space. To seek eternal bliss Within time's narrow span, Is man's best int'rest;--only this Can form the future man. Let dying mortals then Their foolish dreams forsake; Unto their rest return again, And Christ their refuge make. Then, even timid youth May smile upon the tomb; And festive moments welcome truth, Though clad in robes of gloom. By Jesus' death, is broke Death's dark and powerful spell; And, while to Him by faith we look, We know that all is well. "While meeting the little company my soul was blest. O for spiritual discernment and grace, that I may be truly helpful to them, and deal faithfully. Visited a dying person who says, she dare not rest on Jesus;--yet HE is a tower." ON THE DEATH OF POPE PIUS XIII. His Holiness, the Pope, Hath yielded up his breath; He, who could sins forgive, Hath no command o'er death; How wonderful! such power to have, And yet to sink into the grave!