The night on which she died, a friend coming in, she seemed pleased, remarking that I could then take some rest. Shortly after this her voice began to fail. She called for "Hephzibah," looked at me wishfully, exclaimed, "Mother," and talked earnestly for some time; but her voice was "thick in death," and language failed as an interpreter of "the thoughts and intents of the heart." In vain she laboured to make me comprehend her ideas. The bridge had been broken down; the fortress was dismantled. Only a word or two was distinct enough to be understood, but from these I found her discourse was of a spiritual nature. Overcome by the scene, I burst into tears, and said, "My dear child, how I wish I could understand you! It almost breaks my heart." At this she looked at me so very affectionately, and exclaimed, "Heaven! heaven! heaven!" She spoke not again, but for twelve long hours "her spirit struggled with her clay," when the conflict mercifully ceased, and all was peace, and righteousness, and quietness, and assurance for ever. She exchanged worlds on December 14th, 1851, aged eleven years and three months. "May death conclude my toils and tears; May death conclude my sins and fears; May death, through Jesus, be my Friend; May death be life when life shall end!" Thus ends the interesting memoirs of three happy children; and as reflection should follow reading, we proceed from narrative to reflections. REFLECTIONS. 1. From these memoirs we learn how greatly the Lord sometimes tries the righteous. In little more than a fortnight, three out of four children were borne to their long home. The father had been previously afflicted with paralysis, and was at that time unable to follow his employment, having lamed himself. 2. We learn that human affliction may consist with divine affection. Lazarus sickened and died, though Jesus loved him. "And what son is there whom the Father chasteneth not?" 3. We have another lesson upon the inscrutable providence of God. "I beheld," says Solomon, "all the works of God, that a man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun; because, though a man labour to seek it out, yet shall he not find it; yea, further, though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not find it." No man knoweth divine love or hatred by the distributions of providential good and evil. 4. But if the events of life are so complicated, and if no application, however skilfully conducted, nor any human capacity, whatever its range, can fathom the "mysteries of God," then, how unseemly is immoderate grief or unmeasured joy! How premature our decisions, and how utterly senseless all those infidel cavils against a system which the most enlightened, philosophical, and Spirit-taught mind can neither understand nor deal with!