What a field for usefulness and affectionate attention on the part of ministers and Christian friends is opened by the frequent attacks, and lingering progress, of _consumptive_ illness! How many such precious opportunities are daily lost, where Providence seems in so marked a way to afford time and space for serious and godly instruction! Of how many may it be said, "The way of peace have they not known;" for not one friend ever came nigh to warn them to "flee from the wrath to come." But the Dairyman's daughter was happily made acquainted with the things which belonged to her everlasting peace before the present disease had taken root in her constitution. In my visits to her, I went rather to receive information than to impart it. Her mind was abundantly stored with Divine truths, and her conversation was truly edifying. The recollection of it must ever produce a thankful sensation in my heart. I one day received a short note to the following effect:-- "Dear Sir, "I should be very glad, if your convenience will allow, that you would come and see a poor unworthy sinner. My hour-glass is nearly run out; but I hope I can see Christ to be precious to my soul. Your conversation has often been blessed to me, and I now feel the need of it more than ever. My father and my mother send their duty to you. "From your obedient "And unworthy servant, "E--- W---." I obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my arrival at the Dairyman's cottage his wife opened the door. The tears streamed down her cheek as she silently shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried to speak, but could not. I took her by the hand, and said: "My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wisdom and mercy directs." "Oh! my Betsy, my dear girl, is so bad, sir. What shall I do without her? I thought I should have gone first to the grave, but--" "But the Lord sees good that, before you die yourself, you should behold your child safe home to glory. Is there no mercy in this?" "O, dear sir! I am very old and very weak, and she is a dear child, the staff and prop of such a poor old creature as I am." As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, supported in an arm-chair by pillows, with every mark of rapid decline and approaching death. A sweet smile of friendly complacency enlightened her pale countenance as she said: "This is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I sent to you. You find me daily wasting away, and I cannot have long to continue here. My flesh and my heart fail; but God is the strength of my weak heart, and, I trust, will be my portion for ever."