Annuals published in London, and accompanied by some verses written by Miss Jewsbury, afterwards Mrs. Fletcher; who, alas! since then has followed the subject of her spirited verses to the tomb.

I am sorry that the purchasers of the first edition should not be in possession of the portrait, but I am sure they would think me culpaple if I were to withhold it on this account from those who buy the second. All I can do is to regret that I had it not before. A similar remark must be made in reference to the Appendix, which contains the dying experience of Miss Ellen S―, and which I thought too interesting, and too much in harmony with the case of Clementine, to repress.

THIRD EDITION.

By a singular mistake I gave the name of Ellen to this deceased young lady, in the second edition it should have been MARTHA. Ellen is the name of an elder sister, who I am happy to say is still living. When it is considered that I had not long known the family, the error will be easily accounted for.

MEMOIR OF MARTHA S.

ONE morning I paid a pastoral visit to a young lady, a member of my Church, whose family had not long removed from another part of the country to reside in Birmingham. On my rising to retire, my young friend informed me that she had an invalid sister, whom she expected every moment from her chamber, and who, she said, would be much gratified to see me. I had scarcely resumed my seat, before there entered the room, a most lovely and interesting young person, whose features, naturally extremely pleasing, derived additional beauty from the fatal hectic with which they were a little flushed, and which had been increased by the exertion of coming down stairs. What added to the interest of the scene was the presence of two

other sisters, besides the one already mentioned, and who themselves appeared in delicate health. As soon as Martha, for such was her Christian name, had recovered her breath, which had been rendered short and rather difficult by the exertion of descending from her chamber, I entered into conversation with her on the circumstances of her affliction; a subject which, though in most cases, gloomy and depressing, checked not for a moment the sweet smile which played upon her engaging countenance. She soon informed me that she felt she had the sentence of death in herself, and considered her illness as a voice from the tomb; and spoke of dying as one that was familiar with the awful topic. "I have neither love of life," she said, nor fear of death: and although I

am leaving the world when its prospects were become most flattering and alluring, I do not regret it. I have only one desire,

and that is after more communion with God." There was a tear in her eyes, but it was not the tear of disappointed hope, or bitter regret, but only the tribute of nature refined, but not destroyed, by grace; and which, in fact, added a charm even to the beauties of holiness, that so evidently invested her character. The whole strain of her conversation was so calm, so collected, so dignified, evincing such meek submission, such humble piety, such weanedness from the world, and such longing after immortality, that I gazed at her with wonder and delight, and left the house thinking and saying, that I had scarcely ever witnessed any thing so seraphic.

On subsequent inquiry, I found that the family of which she was a member, had suffered much, and often, from the ravages of death. First they lost their father, who died when he was little more than forty years of age, leaving a widow and nu

merous family. A few years afterwards, one of her brothers died; then, in the course of a few months, a sister; and in about two years subsequently another brother. Death, when he once enters a large family, seems often to delight in multiplying his victims, and accumulating his spoils, till the late flourishing and numerous household is left but a wreck for a widow's tears to

fall upon.

These affecting breaches in the wide circle which Martha had been accustomed to meet in her mother's house, appears to have produced a deep and salutary impression upon her mind. She saw in them sorrowful proofs of the brevity and uncertainty of life, of the vanity of the world, and the necessity of being ready for an early grave. But there were other lessons to be learned from these scenes of mortality. She saw what religion was in its excellence and power, in the happy deaths of her