and loved, and vanquished, and transformed her, be acknowledged and adored?

Some fine traits were undoubtedly evident in her character before her conversion. She was, as has been stated, affectionate and grateful, modest and correct in her conduct, ardent and energetic, and, above all, singularly truthful and ingenuous. But she was not humble or patient, meek or forbearing, gentle or self-denying, conciliating or considerate. She was not even what is generally called good-tempered. No sooner, however, had she felt the power of a Saviour's love, than she earnestly sought to put away everything which was displeasing to Him. She entered upon the unwonted task of self-conquest -the daily, hourly fight with temper, self-indulgence, and pride. Much did it cost her to keep that long ungoverned spirit under control, and often would she lament it with tears. Her family say that on this point she judged herself too severely that a tart or hasty reply was the utmost of which she was guilty, but in the rigorous self-examination which she had instituted, she formed a different estimate, and often would she fear that no real change had been accomplished, because from time to time her impetuous temper had obtained some advantage over her.

"Life! life! eternal

Still she struggled on. life!" was, as with Bunyan's pilgrim, her allengrossing object. She prayed, she watched, she strove, to enter in at "the strait gate." Like Mercy, she stood "trembling and weeping outside the wicket gate," and "knocked and knocked again," and "fainted, and was afraid that no gate would be opened to her;" but as months passed on, and the mist cleared away from her fainting spirit, it gradually became evident to her, as it had already become evident to others, that she had entered in. "I think I am making a little way now," she would observe, in her own frank and simple way; "I have conquered my temper a little since I saw you last. I am sure, too, that there must be some change, for I have lost all taste for those things I used to like so much; and the Bible, and sermons, and things which used to be so dull, are now all my comfort." It seemed now as if she could never have enough of these. She found out the services at Christ Church school-room, at Buckingham, Granville, and Hope chapels, and attended them in turn nearly every evening of the week. Church, Baptist, Wesleyan, Independent—all were alike to her, so that she could but hear in them the beloved name of Jesus. Friday even

C

ing was always spent with her kind and much valued friend Miss B, who for many months devoted one evening in the week to instructing her in the Scriptures. It was no idea of duty or of merit which led her to these frequent services. It was a newly awakened, eager thirst, which could not be satiated. It was not that she rested on anything in herself. She had an overwhelming sense of guilt, which could obtain relief from nothing short of the all-atoning sacrifice and perfect righteousness of Jesus; but she wanted to know that her faith in Him was deep and genuine that it was neither mere formal assent, nor evanescent excitement. Of this, after a time, she became assured. In the use of means, and in constant waiting upon God, the hope and peace she sought gradually dawned upon her soul; she was enabled to rest upon the Saviour's work for her, and with humble thankfulness to recognise the Spirit's work in her; and on the first Sabbath of December 1855, she ventured to approach the table of the Lord, and to receive the memorials of His dying love.

IV.

"The Religion of Common Life."

I ask Thee for the daily strength,

To none that ask denied,

And a mind to blend with outward life,

While keeping near Thy side

Content to fill a little space,

If Thou be glorified."

MISS A. L. WARING.