One day, after a doze in the easy chair, she said, "Was it not strange? It seemed as if, when I was sleeping, a little boy came to me, and said, 'The Lord hath not forgotten thee, so live in peace.' It did seem so strange to see the little boy come up and say this. What do you think of it?" I said, "I cannot tell." She grew rapidly worse, and our dear nurse thought it advisable to ask the doctor to call, as he had not been for a few days. He came, and said she might be gone in twenty-four hours, or might linger a few days, but the beginning of the end had taken place. Our dear Pastor went and spoke a few words to her ere he left, and said, "Ah! dear, it is well with you," and other words of comfort. But after he was gone she was much cast down, and said, "Oh, why did he say that? I don't feel it will be well." Then, after a little while, she said, "Do you think I am much worse?" "Yes, dear," I replied. "Do you think I shall die?" I said, "I fear you will." Then she said, "Oh, auntie, what trouble I am in! I fear I have deceived you and myself, and that I shall go to hell." I replied, "But, my dear, you have had some sweet promises applied with power, haven't you?" "Oh, I've thought so, but if I have been deceiving myself?" I said, "You have had a desire after these things, have you not?" "Oh, yes!" she replied. "Then," I said, "I feel assured, my dear, you would not have had a real desire if you were a deceiver." She said, "Auntie, what shall I do? I feel I can't die like this; but I can't do anything, can I?" Wringing her hands in agony of mind, she cried, "Do, please, Lord, come! Do come! Oh, dear Lord Jesus, do please come!" She continued in much distress, until I felt quite unequal to talk to her, and said, "My dear, shall I send for some one?" She replied, "Oh, no, auntie; don't send for any one. The Lord must do it all" (laying great stress on the _all_); "but do pray for me, that He will appear." Her distress of mind was very great. No words or texts of Scripture named gave her any comfort. I left the room for a short time, leaving her in the care of our dear nurse (of whom she was very fond), and on my return, found she had had a nice sleep. Going up to her, she said, "How can I thank you enough?" I said, "Don't say a word about that, dear. My earnest desire is, that you may get a word from the Lord." Her countenance looked so placid, and she said, "I have, auntie." I said, "Is Jesus precious to you as your Saviour? Can you trust Him?" She replied, "Yes. These words came--'Fear not; I will be with you,' and I think He will. Yes, His promises stand good. 'He'll never, no, never, no, never forsake.'" She then dozed again. I saw her lips moving, and caught the words, "With Christ in the vessel I smile at the storm," having evidently been repeating that beautiful hymn of Newton's, "Begone unbelief, my Saviour is near."