last and most formidable enemy.

Several attacks of disease in the course of two years, which threatened to be immediately fatal, were, by the aid of skilful medical treatment, happily arrested, but not until their baleful effect had fastened on her feeble body, and each had left her "more a prey for death." And it was a cause of much thankfulness to her friends, that instead of one of those unexpected instant departures, which so frequently occur, and which in her case it was often feared would take place, the approach of death was gradual and mild, so as to involve no pain, and but little surprise.

The simplicity of her character appeared through all her last days, especially after she ascertained that her end was not far off. Her words were few, because she studied to utter none but "the words of truth and soberness;" she seemed to feel that there might be a parade even in dying.

After a short conversation in her room a day or two before she departed, on the subject of the unprofitableness of our best works, which we found had deeply exercised her mind, she remarked with much emotion, a tear starting to her eye, "I feel the truth of these remarks;" but, after a pause, she said, "I have tried to do my duty as a wife and as a mother; I have endeavoured to conduct the affairs of my family with discretion, and to instruct my children in the best things." She evidently clung to this as an evidence of grace, (and not at all as a cause of acceptance with God,) and as affording some hope for her children, when relied on in view of the promises of Him who says, that if this precious seed is sowed, grace shall insure the crop.

Her Sabbath evenings, after the good old way of our puritan fathers, saw her with all her household, over whom she had any authority, gathered around her for the purpose of giving them that instruction which, with the promised blessing, would save them from the paths of sin and folly in this world, and prepare them for enjoying the blessedness of another. And through the distractions of an unsettled life, and the hinderances experienced in a large boarding house, in which several winters were spent with her family, she persevered as far as possible, in the instruction of both children and servants in the week and on the Sabbath, with a determination which both she and her friends thought had shortened her life.

In view of this peculiar faithfulness to her domestic duties, we are the more willing to offer an apology for what appeared to some of her friends, an indifference to various extra means; which in these last times have been esteemed needful for the awakening of a slumbering church.

When her mind began to open to this subject, the glory of our revivals was beginning to be tarnished. "The enemy had begun to sow his tares." The extravagance which so frequently attended them, had produced in her no little disgust for what she thought the mere machinery of religion. In such circumstances, it is difficult to "choose the good, and refuse the evil." The cast of her mind was such, that parade in any thing, and especially in the vital concerns, in which is involved our everlasting destiny, irresistibly revolted her mind. And the errors in principle and in practice, which had been by these means insinuated into, and corrupted the legitimate and professed doctrines and ordinances of the Presbyterian Church, greatly impaired her confidence in what many good people esteemed genuine revivals of religion. Subsequent events have abundantly confirmed the wisdom of her early and deep distrust.

After her constitution had been tried with another violent and unusual attack, in March, 1838, which prostrated nearly all her remaining strength in a few hours, it was evident to many of her friends, that recovery was no longer to be expected. Every means, however, were made use of, that might in any way prove salutary; many of which, as has often occurred, were rather injurious than beneficial. As a last resource, a journey was commenced, for the purpose of trying the Springs of Virginia, so highly recommended to invalids. She was not permitted, however, to go beyond Philadelphia. Her physicians there, judging so long a journey very hazardous, gently arrested it, by proposing a delay of a few days; thus endeavouring to obviate the effects of any disappointment which she might experience. Her own views seemed, spontaneously, to meet theirs, and a quiet acquiescence was every day more manifest. After a consultation of physicians, in which they agreed that an effort might be safely made for her return to Princeton, the sweet complacency with which she said to a very kind friend, who was visiting her, "I am going home to-morrow," encouraged a hope that she had realized her danger; and that her will was gradually moulding to the Divine will, and she preparing for a far better home.

It appeared as if she was permitted to get thus far on her journey, in order to gratify the feelings, and experience the renewed kindness of friends, whom her husband had attached to his family, from his temporary labours amongst them. The attention of these, and indeed many others, whom their interesting circumstances were a means of winning to them, is deeply felt in the family circle, of which she was a beloved member; and which will continue to be felt, as long as her memory shall be cherished amongst them.

It was with difficulty that she was removed to her own residence at Princeton, a few days before she died, fully sensible that her departure was not far off. One of her anxious friends, wishing to be more satisfied of this, said: "You know, my dear Margaret, how ill you are?" A most emphatic "O yes," silenced every remaining doubt.

The day before she died, the conversation leading to the subject of death, she said, "I am only afraid of the article of death: I know that when this is over, I shall be in Jesus' arms." From one, so slow to speak, these were encouraging words.

A few hours after this, she awoke from a light sleep, with that sort of bewildered spirit, which is frequently experienced under circumstances of so much weakness, especially when accompanied with, perhaps, the effects of an opiate, and repealed the name of a person, with which she had been familiar in her childhood. She observed, "what easy words!" Some one present remarked—there are words equally easy. She said, "tell me some." Upon being referred to a Psalm which had been spoken of the day before, she commenced, as having found something exceedingly pleasant—"The Lord is my shepherd"—and continued to the end of this short and interesting portion of the Word of God, in a tone of sweetness and solemnity, which impressed every one present, adding her testimony to the sweetness of the words. It appeared as if, while the world was fast receding, her character was rapidly finishing in the mould of this precious Word.

Reason was continued to her until the last departing moment, when, after a violent but short struggle, which seemed to arrest every mental exercise, except that which led her spirit immediately to "Him who takes away the sting of death," the freshness of former years was restored to her complexion, which had been, for some months, suffused with feverishness, and marked with suffering, and a calm and solemn composure settled on her countenance, appearing full of meaning, which persuaded those who were around her, that she had some communication to make. But her mouth was sealed, and her hand could no longer effect the gentlest pressure. We were left to conclude, that when in her agony she had cried—"Come, Lord Jesus—come quickly;"—"Lord Jesus receive my spirit," "she was heard, in that she asked;" and the freshness of everlasting youth,