and thanksgiving. I have often spoken to you about her she calls herself my fellow traveller in this last journey. Dear, dear papa, let me conjure you, not to come to England; I shall be miserable if you do. Pray stay and comfort mama and Sophie, and all my dear brothers and sisters. Without you, what would they all do? what would all the village do without you? besides, there is no minister near, to do your duty in your absence. If you will grant your Rosine's last request, and make her quite, yes, quite happy, you will stay, and pray for me at your own church. M. du Mercie will remit you ten guineas, to be given among the poor villagers; you are the best judge, dear рара, but pray remember my poor old widow. I am sorry that I cannot send any money, as I meant to send it ; but I am afraid my illness and my funeral will consume the little I have left: it was proper to say this; it appears a little dismal: but all that concerns the body in death, seems mournful; all that concerns the soul, seems to me, very joyful. Tell dear Sophie, if she wishes to know my favorite spot, it is that part of the mountain, above our cottage, which we used to name, our thinking retreat.' When quite alone, I always sat down at the foot of the two weeping birches

there. I was very fond, too, of a bed of gentians, which I had almost cultivated (for I had transplanted many roots to that spot) near those trees.This is very fanciful; but I think it will please Sophie to know exactly my most favourite haunt; it would have pleased me, had she sent such a message to me. Tell her, I name the spot, 'The home of memory.'-My dearest father, my dearest mother, I thank you from my soul for your affection and care, which has never failed; and I thank dearest Sophie, and all my beloved brothers and sisters. I think of every body whom I love :-I pray for them.—I cannot write any more; I am a little fatigued now. On my knees I implore God to bless you all. We shall soon meet again. I am quite happy.

ROSINE St. ALME.

"The mercy and goodness of the Lord never faileth; in him have I put my trust: he will wipe the tears from off all eyes. Glory be to God."

Rosine inclosed a few lines to her cousin. Adrien, in the letter to her father. She thanked him for his affection, and told him that the best proof of it, after her death, would be to wrestle against immoderate grief. She concluded in these words: "I would not, my dear Adrien,

have the false pride of denying that I would have chosen you for my husband, rather than any one I ever knew. While I live I shall be sensible of your love, and grateful, truly grateful, for it. Nor would I have the false shame of concealing one sentiment of my heart from you at this time. Prove, my dear friend, that your affection for me has not weakened your mind; and bear, like the child of God, the afflictions of our heavenly Father. I could have been so happy with you! but must I wish to chuse between the state to which it pleases God to remove me, and this world's best happiness, when we may meet, also, never to be separated, in heaven?--In my prayers you have never been forgotten: I can never forget you, my dearest Adrien. The love of soul will not, surely, be changed by death. Ever watch and pray then, (partly for my sake)' that you may pass through things temporal, so that you lose not things eternal.' The pain of parting, death's worst pain, is over;-rejoice with me, my beloved husband."

M. du Mercie arrived at the house of Mr. Stanley the day Rosine finished the above letters. He forwarded them immediately; writing, at the same time, himself to M. St. Alme.

Rosine became gradually weaker: death made

every day some visible advance; but its effect on her mind was like that of the summer's sun on the snows of Siberia; the dazzling surface was vanishing, but flowers, already budding into colour and beauty, appeared amid the bright verdure beneath. She had seemed a simple girl before: her character now seemed exalted;-she had been loved (and respected too) before; she was now looked up to as a superior creature. All her actions had something unearthly in them; her conversation displayed the same humble spirit; but she spoke almost as one inspired. All the gentle virtues of Christianity were more gentle and lovely, and the passions of the world seemed spiritualized in her. She seemed like one who is about to take a journey, and had arranged every thing for his departure; she was anxious for nothing, she waited for nothing, but death: and death came at last very gently, as if it looked upon her with affection, and feared to disturb her. She had just received the sacrament with Lady Falkland: M. du Mercie was still with her, and Miranda was seated near the couch where she was lying; the hand of the quiet child was clasped in hers, and her head was reclining on a pillow. Lady Falkland was gazing at her lovely countenance, and fearful even to

stir; for Rosine's eyes were closed (she supposed) in slumber. Miranda felt her hand more fondly pressed for an instant.-Lady Falkland beheld an expression of angelic rapture beam over the countenance before her.-The hand droppedthe face was calm again-something had vanished there-it was the soul.

Adrien had arrived in England the day after Rosine's death: he saw her body in the coffin; but this is his letter to M. St. Alme:

"I was too late, my dear father: our Rosine had left this world. I could not write before: but it seems now my chief delight to write any little circumstances, to you, concerning her. M. du Mercie has just written to you an account of her death; I can, therefore, only tell you what I have seen since.-Oh! how I felt when they told me she was gone; that I could not see her for one little instant! A sort of torpid despair seized me, and I looked at nothing; I attended to nothing; I answered nothing; I did not notice M. du Mercie, who came down to me, till I heard his voice he whispered to me that I might see the body of Rosine. I believe I knelt to him:I was nearly frantic with joy. He led me to the room; and directly I saw her face, I was calm; such a countenance would have calmed any one! I