her, that if Leonardo da Vinci had seen the face of that child, he would have copied it for that of an angel. Every one seems struck with the appearance of our dear Anny, who improves daily in every grace and beauty. At Lucca baths, where they passed the first summer after their arrival in Italy, the children enjoyed unrestrained liberty. Anny, in particular, bounded over the wild and lovely scenery, like the young mountain kid, with unwearying pleasure.

"The children have great pleasure in going to see the pope get into his carriage to take his afternoon drive. I must tell you an anecdote of our darling Anny, which happened a few days ago on one of these occasions. We were standing amongst the crowd watching for the signal by which we were to know that the pope was advancing. It was given, and a poor woman, anxious to present a petition, which she held in her hand, endeavoured to make her way to him, but was rudely repulsed by the Swiss guards. In a moment Anny sprang forward, shielded the poor creature in her arms, and drew her on through the midst of the guards close to the pope, to whom the woman presented her petition on her knees. The guards, seeing the benevolent and graceful action of the child, made way for her with a smile of approbation.

"Dearest Anny has, within these last few days, a languid look, which makes us all uneasy. On rising from her prayers this morning, I thought that she would have fainted; and told her that she must not again remain so long on her knees. She answered that she could not avoid it, for she had all her friends to remember in her prayers.

"October 14.-Our apprehensions about Anny increase daily; she now lies on a couch, or is carried from one room to another, having again lost the use of her limbs.

"October 20.-Anny is alarmingly ill several physicians have been

consulted, who give us little hope of her recovery: we can only look to the great Physician, who, with an almighty word, can bid her 'be whole.' "October 26.-She passed a very sleepless night: I was dreadfully alarmed, her breathing was so short and quick; while the bed-clothes heaved with violence of the palpitation at the heart. With difficulty she can utter a sentence; but when she does, that sentence is generally to ask for prayer, 'the prayers for the sick in our own prayer-book.' Seeing but little probability that she would be continued much longer amongst us, my sister, after some serious conversation, asked her, what she thought of receiving the sacrament, having never yet approached the table of the Lord. She said, that she would like it, but that she was not worthy; and, bursting into tears, added, O dear mamma, you don't know how naughty I have been; but I will tell you all. Is there any one in the room but ourselves?' Being assured that there was not, she opened her whole heart to her mamma: I had almost said her innocent heart; but that cannot be, since she partakes of that fallen nature which first brought sin into the world; but when I heard heard the crimes which weighed heavily on her spirits, and caused her, as she said, to shed many tears upon her sick bed, I felt convinced that she was indeed a child of God, who taught her to feel, that no sin is trifling in His sight, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity.' By God's assistance, my sister was enabled to tranquillize her child's mind: she reminded her, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.

"Sunday. We had a visit from a clergyman, Mr. Wolf, who, although a perfect stranger, evinced all the kind interest of an old friend. He read prayers and administered the sacrament, of which our dear sufferer partook with a humble and contrite heart, which the Lord promises he will never despise. She

appeared deeply impressed, though unable to speak from excessive weakness and languor. On Monday morning, when Dr. Clarke came, he wished to feel her pulse; and perceiving that she held out her right hand, the one on which she had been lying, he objected to it. I cannot give you my left hand,' she said: I have not had the use of it since Saturday.' And then it was discovered, that from that time of her dreadful suffering, she had lost the use of her left side; and had forborne to mention it, for fear of grieving her mamma. Every trait of her character which illness develops, makes us more acutely feel the worth of this inestimable child. "Night and day she suffers, but she suffers as one passing through the 'refiner's fire.' Many things she says which give us the comfortable assurance, that the short moment of affliction is passing away, while there is working for her a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory in that peaceful mansion opened for all believers by Him who has washed them in his own most precious blood. In her greatest sufferings she frequently exclaims, O how many have much more to endure without the alleviating care of such kind friends!' Under all her bodily suffering, her memory and understanding remain uninjured. Reading has ever been her greatest delight; and now it acts upon her nerves like a powerful soporific, as the physician tells us, calming and tranquillizing her as laudanum would any one else. When most inclined to be restless, from an increase of pain and fever, she is most anxious for constant reading, as if to turn her thoughts from herself. Books of amusement are sometimes read to her, travels or biography: she objects to novels, or any thing from which she cannot derive improvement as well as amusement. From childhood her mind has not been occupied as the minds of children are in general. Her pursuits and inclinations have marked out the ri

pening for a heavenly inheritance. I remember her accents of praise, as when a baby from four to six years old she repeated hymns of her own selection, with glistening eyes looking up to heaven her own resting-place. The little book which contained her favourite hymns is now by me, in which she used as a very little child to mark the passages which most particularly affected her. The strictest observance of the Sunday has been from infancy her undeviating rule; and now in her illness is attended to with the most scrupulous watchfulness. On Saturday night she frequently inquires the hour, that twelve o'clock may not surprise her hearing any thing which she does not consider Sunday reading. Since her illness she never said any thing which could lead us to suppose that she was aware of her situation, till within these last few days, when she intimated it to her mamma, with an anxious expression of countenance, as if unwilling to grieve her, yet at the same time thinking that she ought to break to her a painful truth. Mamma,' she said from the pain I feel in my chest, and my not getting the least better, I cannot help thinking myself in danger.' Again she said, 'I am sure I shall never rise from this bed.' My sister answered, she hoped that thought was not painful to her;" to which she unhesitatingly replied,

that it was not. Seeing her in great suffering her mother said, O my child, that I could do any thing to relieve you!' You can do nothing now, however, but pray for me: O pray for me.' She complains much of the wandering of her thoughts in prayer, unconscious that it proceeds from the increasing debility of her body. My sister said, I hope, my darling, your faith does not fail.' O no, mamma; but I often repeat that beautiful prayer, "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."

sacrament' of the Lord's Supper. Christmas day. After passing many restless hours of the night coughing, she seemed overcome by weakness, and lay motionless, until roused by the shepherds' pipes under the windows raising her languid head from the pillow, she said distinctly, "Glory to God in the highest: on earth peace, good will to man.' Then she sunk again to quiet rest, with peace and good will in her heart, as well as on her lips.

"Rome, January 1, 1821.-The new year has opened sadly upon us. The sufferings of our precious child are beyond what I thought the mortal body could endure.

"January 2.-Still she remains in the same state of drowsy stupor. At four o'clock to-day, as I stood watching her calm countenance, the cold hand of death spread its hue over her lovely features, still lovely, and still expressive of the peaceful feelings of her heart; peace within and peace without, for mortal suffering seemed to be past. Her respiration became quick and interrupted, attended with the noise in the throat which generally precedes dissolution. After some time, she revived as one awakening from broken slumbers, and talked more cheerfully than she had done for many days. Having heard of Amelia O -t's death, she began to speak of it: Sweet, beautiful Amelia 0- -t is dead. O how will her poor mamma return to Scotland without her! her lips quivering, and the tears streaming from her eyes as she spoke. My love,' said my sister, Mrs. Ot is a Christian, and will be resigned to the will of God.' O mamma, she will miss her so much! she will see her empty chair. When any of our family only dined out, I used to think the table looked melancholy.' She asked me

"During the Advent the shepherds come in from the country playing sacred strains on their pipes, in commemoration of the glad tidings first announced to the shepherd's abiding in the field keeping watch over their flock by night.'"

to read to her, and listened very attentively while I read an account of the death of D——— D. How awful,' she said, for a Deist to be taken off so suddenly.' This evening, when the doctor saw her, he told me, that, from the change in her pulse and looks, he thought it probable, that before the morning all her mortal sufferings would terminate. But like an expiring lamp, which emits one more bright ray, she was re-animated, and spoke cheerfully to her father when he came to see her in the morning. Her father and mother, with aching hearts and constrained cheerfulness, sat looking at their darling, and saying that she had always been a good and dutiful child, and a great pleasure and comfort to them. At this time, something brought to her recollection a musical entertainment, at which she had been present on a Sunday evening, where the King of Naples was present. Immediately the peaceful expression of her countenance gave place to one of agonized distress, and bursting into tears, she said, ' O why did you let me go on Sunday? I did very wrong.' My sister having explained the particular circumstances to her, she recovered her composure, and appeared so much herself, and talked so pleasantly and so collectedly, that a ray of hope, like a passing sun-beam, crossed my mind, that our precious child might yet be spared to gladden the evening of her father's days, and her mother's and mine also; but the hand of death was upon her, and again I saw its pale hue overspread her face. She talked coherently and with much composure, not as a spirit hovering on the verge of the tomb, whose expectation among the living is cut off, but as still lingering between time and eternity. She spoke of the pleasant days which she had passed at her brother's house, as the happiest of her life: but the whole of Anny's short life was happy; no shade of sorrow had ever cast a cloud over the young morning of her days. She was

the darling of both her parents, who studied her gratification in all things. The whole of her conduct and principles made her, indeed, their comfort. During her infancy, no inducement which could be held out, no persuasion or threatening could force her to swerve in the slightest instance from promised obedience. which I have often seen severely tried. As she advanced in years, this principle was so firmly rooted in her mind, that her parents placed in her the most implicit confidence, setting her as a watchful guardian over her little brother and sister, to whom her loss will be indeed incalculable; for she had so entirely gained their affections that they gladly looked up to her as an example. She dozed most of Wednesday, but towards mid-day had a dreadful struggle, which her poor mother could not witness without being much affected; and, perceiving her in tears, the dear child appeared greatly distressed, most anxiously inquiring if she had done any thing to hurt her mamma. Towards evening my sister asked her if she knew that she was going to heaven: she answered tranquilly, No, mamma, I did not.' A little after, she said, Mamma, I am trying to recollect the penitent thief.' She begged to have the raising of the son of the widow of Nain read to her, and asked in what chapter it was contained. She requested that her mamma would sit up with her all night, first inquiring from the doctor, whether it would injure her mamma's health to sit up with her, and whether it would do her papa any harm to remain with her that night beyond his usual hour. Thus solicitous was she about those whom she had always loved, when, as the doctor said, the dew of death was on her forehead; and, from the dreadful heaving of her breast, he thought it not probable that she would hold out till morning.

"From the middle of the night, until about four in the morning, she remained in a lethargic stupor: then she seemed as in the agony of death.

never

We all stood watching her for some time, believing that her intellectual powers had subsided for ever: but, to our astonishment, she recovered them, and asked me to read to her some of Dodd's Consolations. I read to her of the patience of Job, who, when deprived of all his children and earthly possessions, said, The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord.' Anny said, very distinctly, but slowly, from difficulty of breathing, A stronger instance of patient resignation was known. After I had finished the section, finding her attention was still engaged, I read from the same book about the sufferings of the martyrs, and at the following words, But when the kind hand of our Father and Redeemer applies the scourge, let us receive it submissively, let us improve by the chastisement,' her emphatic Yes,' will never be forgotten by those who were present. Her attention was most extraordinary at a time when her agony appeared extreme, and life to ebb fast: yet still it kept a strong hold, as if loth to part. All Thursday she suffered dreadfully; but not one impatient word or look escaped her; and her senses remained perfect. In the evening, her mother asked her, Who loves you better than mamma?' whom are you going to?' She replied, To God.' Then turning her dying eyes to me, she said, as if to comfort me, (and oh! what greater comfort could she have given me!) I am going to God.'

And

"I watched that darling child, who from infancy was dearer to me than my own existence, passing through the dark valley of the shadow of death; and I did not shed a tear. An immortal spirit had been permitted to make a transient abode amongst us; and, washed from its earthly contaminations by the blood of the Saviour, was now struggling to escape from its prisonhouse, that it might re-ascend to its native regions. I read the thirty

fourth Psalm; and, falling low on my knees, I offered up my supplications, that my darling might depart peacefully from this turbulent world, and that the Lord Jesus might receive her spirit. My sister begged me to do nothing to excite her, which had been the particular desire of the doctor. She answered for me, "My aunt is right, mamma: let her go on.' She became quite calm, and joined me in prayer, repeating over and over again, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.' She looked at my sister with an unutterable expression of fondness, and said, 'My mother, my good mother, my dear mother; God bless my mother, and God bless my dear father.' She then prayed for each of us repeatedly, saying, 'Lord, grant we may all meet in heaven.' She also prayed for the maid-servant, whom she saw standing at the foot of the bed. Then every breath was prayer 'Lord, help me! Lord, save me!' until she could no longer articulate. At half-past six o'clock on Friday morning, the purified spirit fled to the bosom of its Redeemer.

"On Monday morning, January 8, we accompanied her sorrowing father to see her laid in the grave; and a little earth soon covered for ever from our eyes what, for nearly fourteen years, had been our delight and admiration, our joy, and the object of our fondest solicitude. But she died in the Lord, and her rest is glorious.

"Oh! if the young and inexperienced traveller could look forward over the rugged and thorny path of life, how joyfully would he hail the messenger of mercy who removes him from the dangerous trial, and bears him away to a place of safety! Our child was the object of the Redeemer's love he would not allow her to be exposed to storms with which her delicate mind could not struggle. He pitied her; He watched over her; He dried her tears; He hath received her, and she is safe! Oh, how safe! The roaring

lion who goeth about seeking whom he may devour, can never, never, reach her. She is gathered into the fold of Christ: she is one of His own lambs, and He is her Shepherd! Why are we anxious to detain those whom we love, to struggle with the waves of a tempestuous ocean ?"

HYMN ATTRIBUTED TO MR. ROBINSON.

Tothe Editorofthe Christian Observer.

YOUR correspondent T. R. is quite right in stating that the excellent hymn, "Jesu, lover of my soul," is not from the pen of Charles Wesley: but I think he is misinformed as to its being the composition of Mrs. Madan. I believe I am correct in stating, that it was composed by the too well known Mr. Robinson of Cambridge. The circumstance was related to me, connected with a painful anecdote which should deeply impress on our minds those words of the Apostle, "Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Mr. Robinson was a man of considerable talent, and was for some years a useful and much respected Dissenting minister, till in the latter part of his life he unhappily lapsed into the Socinian system. It was stated to me, that on some occasion when this hymn was sung in compliment to him, far from being gratified, as was expected, he observed, "Oh, that I were in the same state of mind as when I composed that hymn!"-Mr. Robinson's congregation being dissa tisfied with his evident change of sentiment, he went to Birmingham to consult Dr. Priestley, and preached for him, using very strong language against the Divinity of our Lord. The next morning he was found dead in his bed.

Digressing from this immediate subject, yet in some connexion with it, will you allow me to inquire on what authority it is sometimes: