"He shews me every thing that I did not ought to do, and he makes me hate sin with a perfect hatred." Is not this the religion of the royal psalmist,-"Through thy commandments I get understanding therefore hold I straight all thy commandments, and all false ways I utterly abhor ?" As long ago as last April, Hetty set diligently to work, as she told us, to set her house in order: not indeed that as far as circumstances have permitted, since, for instance, the last pig grew too big to be kept in the cupboard at night, for fear of the robbers-you would find it any thing but a pattern of cleanliness; but she would white-wash the ceiling, and yellow-wash the walls, and paint the cupboards and the shelves and doors, and wash the blankets and sheets; for Hetty has a great dread of leaving any thing behind her, that can be thought ill-managed or untidy; and she has toiled with it day by day, and done it all herself. She has washed all the crockery-ware and the glass; and at last she has had her wish of forcing the latter on the acceptance of her young friends, that they may each have some token of remembrance. I did not need any thing, for when old Samuel was dying, almost the last articulate words I heard him say, were a request that I would accept a certain "glazen cup," as he called it, which had been made for him when he carried coal to the glass-house; and into the bottom of which an old coin is inserted, dug up with many others in a field near here, where, according to tradition, they had been buried in a time of trouble and bloodshed -perhaps the civil wars. I have some curiosity to know what is the inscription on the coin myself;-I cannot distinguish the letters through the thick glass;-and more than one lover of antiquities has hinted to me of how much more value the coin is than the cup:-I sha'n't have it done though; I promised to keep it for old Samuel's sake, and so I will. But I must have a keepsake from the old woman too; and so on Monday, when I was there, she filled my basket with the remainder of her store-a very picturesque variety. Two long-stemmed twisted wine-glasses, which her mother gave her on her wedding-day, two old-fashioned rummers, and saltcellars, and a little glass mustard pot, in the shape of an urn:-some token for every body. "You'd better keep them yourself,” I said, as I have often said before, "another time will do." But Hetty was very positive that time, and I submitted-carried home the store, and divided it. My poor old friend seems to think her toil is drawing to an end; but I cannot say that she appears to me much otherwise than usual. She thinks she has some internal disease, and sometimes suffers great pain; but she checks herself in her complaints, and says, "If I'm not ready to go now, when shall I be? I'm almost ashamed to take medicine, as if I wished to be on earth for ever. What not yet? not longing to see my Lord yet? What should poor old Hetty wish to live for? Oh, that I may get safe at last!"— and then, with all the warmth of a strong imagination, she discourses on what she fancies the glories and beauties of heaven, and ends with a natural recurrence to earthly feeling: "I shall see the dear Saviour in the brightness of glory above the mercy-seat; and then I shall look round for poor Sam!" She is more desponding and cast down than I have ever seen her. Her labour is really too much for her, and yet I dare say she will get through it. I advised her not to trouble herself about her herbs, but she says they must be ma nured before the frost; and her potatoes are to be dug and housed. I dare say we shall see that her strength is sufficient for her day. And she has done it all. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, though weak as a child, and bent almost double, my poor old friend has toiled on; and if to-morrow is as calm as to-day, it will be a pleasant walk to go and see how she has borne it. No! she has done her work; and, as regards her, our own is done too. Whatever there has been of want of kindness and consideration,-I would fain hope it is little-can never now be paid. We shall never see her again. Old Samuel's grave is open, and Hetty is to be buried to-night. On Thursday evening when she came in from the garden, she felt that her work was done. She went to her bed, and sent to her nearest relation to come and see her before she died. She seemed to have full possession of her reason during the few following hours ;-answered in the affirmative to every neighbour, who asked if she knew her; but did not speak a word more, and scarcely moved. "I never saw a child go to sleep quieter," said her attendant. Saturday, at four in the morning, she said twice, "The Lord have mercy;" and so, without a struggle or sigh, breathed her last. "So He giveth his beloved sleep." Only on Monday she lamented to me, that if she lay ill long, she should have no one to take care of her; and my answer was, "Perhaps God, in his mercy, will not let you lie ill long; and sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof:" yet I pondered, going home, on the desolate condition to which the feeble, childless widow would probably be reduced. But Oh! how foolish to doubt. Here is another commentary on old Samuel's dying words, and I will try to take it for my motto to my life's end-"The Lord will provide." And so, my childhood's friend, farewell! The simple tale, that thus I tell Is record kind, and brief, and true, "My child! my dear!" that used to call |