of others taking up a position for which they are not qualified. Perhaps it may be almost more from a shrinking from the preparation than from actual disobedience to the call when received, that this failure occurs. Is there not a danger of having the mind too full of other things, perhaps lawful in themselves, to give that first place to the service of Christ in whatever way that it surely deserves? And then, there is hardly the capacity to listen to the call and to say, 'Here am I; send me.' I do feel that these matters require much watching unto prayer. I have had such large experience of failure myself, and of dwarfishness in the spiritual life, that I do greatly long for those coming into every advantage, and with such possibilities before them, that nothing may be permitted to mar their usefulness or take away the blessing which is intended for others through them."

On the last day of 1894 Ann Hunt concluded a letter to Hannah Southall with these words: "This has been such a year of mercies bestowed and trial spared, that I look back upon it very thankfully, and would take that which may be given of another in more trust and so more devotedness-and would more earnestly commend my dear friends to Him who watches over them night and day, lest any hurt them."

CHAPTER XI.

Saviour, Thou art not far away,

No need to make request,

Nor even,' quickly come' to say,

But only in Thee rest.

"Some day, some hour, at word of Thine,
Shall break the silver cord-

The hope fulfilled, the rapture mine

For ever with the Lord!”

M. S.

IN

N the early part of 1895 the weather was very severe, and Ann Hunt and myself met but seldom, she being much confined to the house, and I being also more restricted than usual in consequence of an illness the winter before. On January 9th she thus wrote:

To Matilda Sturge.

"MY EVER DEAR FRIEND,

"This morning has brought another disappointment to my hopes of our meeting, for even if thou art to be at The Friars,' which seems unlikely, I am staying at home for no better reason than the weather. I have felt the blank in our intercourse more than usual lately. It has lasted so much longer than I like or had intended. .. I think it has made me think about the limitations that surround

our lives in a very realising way. As one looks back one can recognise these; strong and even painful at the time, which are now removed; but there come others quite different in kind, but putting a limit to one's doings, and in some sort to one's beings, in a very effectual way. I feel these tightening round me very sensibly. The sense of this is not joyous, and yet I do feel it such a blessing to know that there is an inner circle in the heart where the pressure of such bonds has no power. I have felt this now, beloved friend, as I have thought of thee, and know that the love and unity of spirit have no share in the outward separation. I feel, too, and this has been a comfort, that though health, or age, or anything else may prevent some lines of service, yet there must ever be a sphere-a place for the exercise of spiritual gifts-for shedding forth such influence for good as one may be privileged to have, though knowing not how. However, all this, which I had no thought of saying, does not prevent a somewhat special desire to hear of thee, and to know how you are both bearing this cold and snow. I hope to see your M. this afternoon: she kindly proposed coming before going to Cambridge again, and others of your nieces I hope to see this week."

It was indeed true that her limitations were increasing, although only in an outward sense she remarked in a scrap addressed to Isabel Grace (née Gayner):

"How full life is of interest! None the less, I think even more so, up to the end-one sees so much more clearly what it all means."

The frequent intercourse with visitors, in which she recognised a line of service committed to her trust, was about to receive a check. In the beginning of March she was laid by with an attack of the prevailing influenza-not in a severe form, but serious on account of her age and weakness. Her medical attendant was from the first doubtful of her recovery. Her friends accepted the warning but did not give up hope, and were encouraged, after weeks of prostration, to see tokens of amendment. What they did not so clearly perceive was, that though there was to be a partial recovery, she would never regain her former little strength; the thread of life was henceforth feeble, and though she lived more than two years longer she was never the same again. She was at the usual week-day meeting at "The Friars" on February 27th, when her voice was heard in the ministry for the last time. Only once more did she attend meeting, and then the exertion seemed too much for her, and it was never afterwards attempted. But her friends were hopeful as they watched her improvement-saw her able to go out again, and at length, in the month of May, to accept an invitation. from her friend J. S. Fry to stay at his home on Durdham Down. It was a delightful change from Brunswick Square, and she greatly enjoyed her visit and the pleasant drives in the neighbouring country, which was much more accessible from this spot than from her own home. Writing at this time she says in a note addressed to myself :

"Dim as is my sight, I am ready to ask if the trees and the country ever were so beautiful before. It was so delightful to thread about the lanes with the hedges so close that I could see the beauty of the fresh bright leaves. Surely there are compensations even in the loss of privilege, for one values so much more what one retains."

While on the Down she was nearer than usual to many of her friends, so that visitors abounded, and she received them with all her old cordiality and sweetness. But she felt that she had not regained her strength, and this soon became painfully evident when, after a month's absence, she returned home. She was advised to try further change, and went to Portishead, where she had a quiet, refreshing time.

To Rebecca Zaytoun.

"10th of Seventh Month, 1895.

If it was

"There is much we cannot understand. not so where would be the exercise of faith? It seems to me that when no light comes on our path there is a call for heart searching, to learn if there be anything in our feelings or our conduct that is causing the Lord to withhold His counsel until we are more able to receive it with profit. If it be so, it will doubtless be shown to the sincere seeker. But if in sincerity of heart we can appeal to Him without censure for guidance and teaching of His will, there can but be the privilege still ours of leaving ourselves and our affairs in His most wise and loving hands. And He does all things well, and makes all work together for good to them that love Him."