By those who enjoyed her friendship, her pious conversation and correspondence were highly valued. She was no stranger in the habitation of the widow and the fatherless, or beside the dying bed. Her sympathy in such scenes was a mitigation of sorrow, and her offices of Christian love endeared her in the hour of distress. She gratified the benevolence of her heart by relieving the distresses of many; and some of her poor neighbours were pensioners on her bounty as long as they lived. Her attendance on public ordinances, it need scarcely be said, was regular and devout; and by her consistent and blameless life, combined with her affectionate and peaceful walk among her fellow-members, she was a comfort to her pastor, and an honour to the church. Thus for many years she moved in her orbit, as the celestial luminaries move in theirs; with a regular, uniform, and constant progression; deriving all their radiance from the sun, and reflecting his beams without noise or ostentation. But a severe trial awaited her. The conjugal relation was at length broken. By the death of Mr. Waugh she was deprived of the staff of her age, and left to travel alone through the last stages of her pilgrimage. She had however the unspeakable satisfaction of reflecting that he had walked with her in the ways of righteousness, and that although he had outstripped her in the course, and arrived first at the sepulchre, she should follow him into the world of reunion and eternal love. His decease was also eminently happy. He was favoured during his illness with much spirituality and elevation of mind, and departed in the "full assurance of hope." On being asked by one of his daughters, whether, if it were the will of God, he would like to return again into the world? "What," he exclaimed, "when Christ bids me 'come up hither!'" It was the privilege of his faithful wife (for such she deemed it) to be with him through all his illness, and to witness the final scene. She would not delegate to other hands the discharge of any duty which she could perform herself; but the conflict being over, she retired from the chamber of death, and was found some time after, by her children, who had missed her, in her closet, and on her knees. The throne of grace was her refuge. To that hiding-place she was accustomed to flee, in every "cloudy and dark day;" and sweetly was the promise fulfilled in her experience, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee." She felt deeply the stroke which had made her a widow; but, possessing an uncommon degree of self-command, it was a comfort to her children to observe her great calmness of spirit, and to hear the expressions of her confidence in God. Her natural fortitude was sustained by divine grace, and her whole carriage under this bereavement afforded an edifying instance of the manner in which a Christian both bends before the storm, and rises above it.