Oh! 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While thy love is left to me;
Oh! 't were not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmix'd with thee.

Soul, then know thy full salvation,
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care:
Joy to find in ev'ry station
Something still to do or bear.
Think what spirit dwells within thee,
Think what Father's smiles are thine:

Think that Jesus died to save thee:
Child of heaven, canst thou repine?

Haste thee on from grace to glory,

Arm'd by faith and wing'd by prayer;
Heaven's eternal day's before thee,

God's own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope shall change to glad fruition,

Faith to sight, and prayer to praise."

Although its full, rich meaning, could not all be taken into the mind of one so young, and also inexperienced in the painful vicissitudes of life, yet to this full salvation her eye was steadily directed, and to the attainment of this, all else was made subservient. From this period, her relations to the other world never were lost sight of.

She early manifested an interest in missions. An incident which occurred when she was a little child, will show the ease and readiness with which she could be interested in the missionary cause. Her mother said to her one day, "here is a field for you, Mary," at the same time pointing out to her something which she could do to aid in the good work. With great seriousness of manner she replied, "If I am ever fit to be a missionary, I mean to go to the Flat-head Indians;" and it was ascertained that she had

been interested in an account of this benighted people, which she had seen sometime previous in one of the pubfic prints; and that their efforts to obtain the knowledge of "the true way to worship the Great Spirit," had so wrought upon her sympathies, as to lead her to form the purpose of one day going to instruct them herself.

After she had made a profession of religion, she took a more decided stand, in aiding, not only the missionary cause, but also the many objects of benevolence which came within her sphere. When Dr. Parker left this country for China, which was sometime during this year, she so arranged it, that a young friend, the daughter of a missionary, should be present when he took leave of the family for the last time. With her friend, she accompanied him to the gate, and when he requested to be remembered, her heart responded, and she instantly formed her plan how to do it. While returning to the house she said, "we will sew for him, Sophia;" at the same time offering her hand to her friend as a pledge.

She immediately formed a society of very little girls, making it a condition they should earn the penny they brought, by doing something for their mothers at home, as most of them were too young to sew. Her benevolent and inventive mind suggested many expedients to interest the little group, during the hour appropriated to the meeting. Sometimes she spread on the table around which they were arranged, something to please the eye, such as pictures, and specimens of natural curiosities; sometimes she told them stories to interest them in missions, and other benevolent objects-again with a delicate touch, she would endeavor to ascertain whether there were any indications of tenderness on religious subjects. One little girl, the most healthful and robust among the number, after meeting a few times, was suddenly removed by death. It

was noticed, that the last time she was present, when she presented her penny, it was with a moistened eye; and it was hoped that these little meetings were among the means of preparing her for her early removal.

Before entering on any plan of benevolent effort, Mary counted the cost, and took advice of her seniors. In the formation of the society just named, she saw each mother separately, before inviting the children to join it, and while their approval gave her strength, a feeling of responsibility to them, gave consistency and earnestness to her efforts.

The avails of the first and second year were sent, and a letter was received in reply. The distant missionary wrote, that the communication from this little band was like cold water to one perishing with thirst; that while those on whom he had depended to cheer him, by writing to him in his exile, had disappointed him, yet God had put it into the hearts of these little ones, to comfort and encourage him in his work. Many an eye was moist as the letter was read and commented on, and doubtless many a resolution to persevere was then renewed.

CHAPTER III.

SCHOOL DAYS, AND RESIDENCE IN NEW HAVEN.

MARY entered the Hartford Female Seminary sometime during her twelfth year, and remained a pupil in that institution until August, 1838, at which time she graduated. Little, out of the ordinary course of studies in term time, and visiting by way of relaxation in vacations, is recollected to have occurred, excepting that she had an additional source of enjoyment in the acquisition of a new friend. Marion D. a native of the south, was received into the family in June, 1836, and was Mary's room mate and companion in study, until the time of her leaving school. As both were only daughters, these young friends became tenderly attached to each other, and each felt that she had found a sister. In all that contributed to make up the daily routine of life's duties, enjoyments and petty trials, they were one. Marion became settled in her Christian views and feelings, and made a profession of religion while in the family with Mary; thus adding a new tie to the many which already bound them together. The parting of these young friends was painful to both. Particularly was it so to Mary, as in her case there were none of those alleviating circumstances, which so filled the mind of her friend, as to make her almost forget the coming separation. Marion was cheered with the prospect of meeting kind parents, and a large circle of affectionate brothers, in the

66

'sunny south," while Mary was to be left almost alone, with no young heart to send back its sisterly response to

her own.

A little incident which attended the parting of these friends, may not be uninteresting here. It was a delightful morning in the month of August, while it was yet dark, excepting that the stars shone with an unusual brilliancy, when the stage-coach, which was to convey Marion away, drove up to the door. The two friends walked hand in hand to the gate, when Mary's eye caught the constellation of Orion in the eastern sky. Directing the eye of her friend to it, they both stood for a few moments silently looking up at this splendid constellation, then parted, never more to meet, till the arch of this lower heaven, in all its brightness, shall have passed away. As she returned to the house, she seemed bewildered that Orion should have appeared at that time, saying, "I thought it was only in winter that we saw it in this place." Her mother reminded her that she had never been out under the open sky in the month of August, at four o'clock in the morning. This recalled at once her bewildered thoughts, and she stood for a few moments in the portico, over which a grape vine, heavily laden with fruit, was twining its branches. The cool morning air, which gently stirred the leaves, and shed forth the fragrance of the ripening clusters, seemed to soothe her throbbing temples and aching heart. Sometime after her death, amongst her papers, were found the following lines, which the foregoing incident seems to have suggested.