passed to her rest.

Nothing could more

strikingly mark the respect and affection in which she was held than the distinction which attended her to the tomb. With the exception of firing over the grave, she was buried with full military honours. The band playing the dead march in muffled tone, preceded the body, the officers wearing crape upon their military dress, (their ladies went into deep mourning,) following in brilliant but mournful procession. The privilege of carrying the coffin from the hearse to the grave having been contested by the officers, the Colonel of the Regiment appointed six of their number upon whom this melancholy distinction was conferred. Thus, loved of God and honoured by man, Elizabeth descended to the tomb. In the cathedral of Cork her ransomed dust reposes until the morning light of the "first

resurrection" shall brighten upon her grave; when the Archangel's trumpet shall awake it from its sleep, to rise and meet the Lord in the air, changed and 'fashioned like unto his own glorious body,' and so shall she 6 ever be with the Lord.'

DIVINE GRACE IN THE ARMY.

With the narrative of Miss Tatton's history, thus imperfectly but faithfully pourtrayed, there were interwoven several instances of God's gracious working amongst the officers of the regiment, which, to the writer's mind, appeared of too important and interesting a character to be thrown aside, untableted, and lost. With the hope that their simple and brief record may find its way into the barrack or the mess-room, and arrest the eye, and arouse to a solemn

G

and earnest concern for the salvation of the soul, of some who hitherto have been living as if there were no God and no hereafter, I have ventured, in the spirit of prayer, to append them to this little volume.

The first, though it cannot strictly be denominated an example of converting grace, yet presents in a light so profoundly solemn the sin and danger of trifling with providence, of stifling the convictions of conscience, and of slighting the warning voice of God, that I cannot refrain from recording it. He was the son of an Episcopal Minister, and an officer in the regiment. Handsome in person, amiable in disposition, and fascinating in address, he was a general favourite―admired, loved, and courted by all. His brilliant but thoughtless career was suddenly arrested by disease. His bed

of sickness, to all appearance and expectation, threatened to be the bed of death. Human skill was baffled; remedies failed ; and his medical attendants secretly relinquished all hope of saving their patient. Anxious to know their opinion of his case, one of them tenderly but candidly replied to his searching inquiry-that he must die! Solemn sentence for an unprepared man! Awful announcement for one whose whole life would seem to have been spent upon the assumption that death was a fiction, and eternity a fable! The intelligence burst like a loud clap of thunder upon his soul. "I am going to die," was his terrific exclamation," and hell will be my portion for ever! O, if God would but look in mercy upon me, and raise me up again, what a different life would I live! O that He would but spare me one month-if that

month were spent in a dungeon, I would be content; for if I die now, I shall be lost for ever!" God saw his alarm, heard his cry, and in His long-suffering goodness, granted his request. He was spared. But the return of health was the return of all his former thoughtlessness. His resurrection, as from the grave, was the resurrection of all his sins. His alarm vanished with his sickness, and all concern for his soul was lost in folly, gaiety, and dissipation. The result proved that in the awful prospect of soon appearing as a guilty sinner before the righteous God, the natural conscience only had been alarmed, apart from the renewing work of the Holy Spirit upon the heart. There had been no genuine repentance; no true conviction of, or sorrow for, sin; no real contrition of spirit; no prostration of the soul before the cross of Jesus; the