“May I be permitted,” says the sorrowing father, “to give a short account of one whose memory I am anxious to preserve? The world was unacquainted with her excellence; she was known to those only whom she has left behind to bewail her loss. Her sole pleasures were those which a retired and virtuous life affords. She was active, always gentle, and compassionate to the miseries of others. Diffident of her own powers, she relied with perfect confidence on the goodness of God, and listened attentively to the precepts of her fond parent. Though naturally timid and reserved, she disclosed the feelings of her soul with all the warmth of filial tenderness. For me she entertained the most ardent affection, and convinced me, not by her professions, but by actions, of her sincerity. Willingly would I have resigned my life to save hers, and I am satisfied she would as willingly have given up her own to preserve mine. One of my greatest pleasures was to please her, and my endeavours for that purpose were most gratefully returned. “From her early childhood she had been the victim of ill-health; but, though of weak frame of body, and deeply afflicted, she bore her sufferings with steady fortitude and pious resignation to her heavenly Father’s will. Soon after our leaving Switzerland for Hanover she fell into a deep decline, which too soon deprived me of the comfort of this beloved child. From the knowledge I had of her constitution, I apprehended that the disorder would prove mortal. How frequently did my wounded, bleeding heart bend me on my knees before God to supplicate for her recovery! But I concealed my anxiety from her observation. “Although sensible of her danger, she never discovered the least apprehension. Smiles played around her pallid cheeks whenever I entered the room. Even when worn by the fatal disease, and under most afflicting pains, she made no complaint. Her decay became evident to the eye, but to the last hours of her life she preserved a serenity correspondent to the purity and composure of her mind. Thus I beheld my dear, my only daughter, at the age of twenty-five, after a tedious suffering of nine long months, expire in my arms. “During our short residence in Hanover, where she was much respected and beloved, she composed some religious pieces, which were afterwards found among her papers. About the same period she also wrote many letters, which were always affecting, and frequently sublime in the expressions of her feelings. The last words that my dear excellent child uttered were these: ‘To-day I shall taste the joys of heaven!’” * * * * *