valued and honoured father had but one inquiry,'what is most needful for a dying man?' Every thing else was, by him, deemed impertinent. If he was requested to lay aside his books, and rest his poring eyes, and relax his weary mind, his reply was, ' Why talk of relaxation to a dying creature?' If it were not from stupidity, forgetfulness, and infatuation, every human being would feel the same. It is only because death and eternity are not realized, as near, (though for aught we know, death is this moment coming over the threshold,) that we can turn aside to amusement, or any trifling pursuit whatever; for how does it all appear to us, when entering the valley and shadow of death! Verily alto

gether vanity.'

"I am now ready to say, I shall never any more look to any creature for consolation. Painful experience has taught me the vanity of every earthly prop; and henceforth my expectation is only from my Saviour. To this my heart fully consents in its best moments; I am well assured that this is the only way of peace, and comfort; and that many of my sorrows have arisen from leaning on an arm of flesh. As far as I know, I say sincerely, I no longer desire any human arm to rest upon. And yet I often detect a depression of spirits, when I reflect, Such and such a friend, who used kindly to visit me, and seem interested for me, is withdrawn; and I am left solitary, and desolate. How inconsistent is this! How deceitful is the heart! How far from being really, and indeed weaned from every creature, even when we fancy it is so."

To be sorrowful is the birthright of man; but to be able to rejoice amidst suffering, is a privilege peculiar to the believer; and the ground of this joy, is Christian

hope; "Rejoicing in hope," Rom. xii. 12. Though this is not the climate for fair and promising hopes, but rather for blighting, chilling, and withering fears;—yet, that hope may not be supposed to have taken its flight from this unfriendly region, there are certain circumstances, under which it not only flourishes, but defies the inroads of time, the decay of age, and all other attacks which threaten its destruction. In deep affliction, and in the near prospect of death, the Christian's hope, like the flower which blooms at midnight, appears in all its beauty and vitality, and casts its fragrance around the dying pillow. When the things of time are vanishing, and passing away like shadows, and the ocean of eternity presents itself, this hope is realised as substantial; it is then especially found "an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast," or, as Dr. Owen says, "the substance of it is firm, the proportion of it is suited to the burden of the ship; it is no fair, promising, and yet deceitful engine. It is also, as to its use, stedfast and firm; which no violence of winds, or storms, can either break, or move from its hold. Such is genuine hope to the soul; it is sure, not a deceiving imagination; it 'maketh not ashamed' by any failure or disappointment. Groundless presumptions are the deceitful engines whereby the souls of multitudes are ruined every day; of no more use than if the mariners should cast out a log, or a burden of straw, to stay their vessel in a storm. But hope built on faith, is infallible: it is firm, invincible against all opposition; not indeed from itself, but from the ground which it fixeth upon-Christ in the promise."

This Christian hope sustained the mind of MRS. HAWKES under every storm. "It entered within the veil," or through the heavens, and fixed on the person of Christ, as the covenant-head of all blessings for time

and eternity. With the eye of faith, looking at things not seen, she beheld her departed minister amidst "the general assembly and church of the first-born." She felt that, to her, one more earthly tie was loosened, and that now she had only to plume the wings of her soul, and prepare to soar away, and take her part in the general song of praise.

Writing, about this time, to a very dear friend, and sister in affliction, Mrs. C-tt, she says:

"Often, when in pensive mood, and the sun is, for a time, hidden behind some intervening cloud which unbelief has raised, and I am just going to hang my harp on the willows, I with shame take it back again, and begin some song of praise; and that sets all to rights. The Scriptures, and especially the Psalms, not only abound with praises to our God, but assure us also, that he is pleased with our praises; I think, scarcely any Christian seems to cultivate this temper of mind, this holy habit, sufficiently; for it should not be an accidental, but an habitual frame of heart: not merely flowing from the sense of his mercies to ourselves, but from the contemplation of the glorious perfections and attributes of the Triune Jehovah, as he is in himself, and in relation to us, as poor fallen creatures. What a theme does this open! Eternity alone can make us know and estimate it! Oh, for faith to look,—not at the things that are seen, which are temporal, tempestuous, contradictory, confused, and often heart-sickening, -but at those that are not seen, which are eternal, unchanging, certain, peaceful, and heart-cheering! Not such a faith as generalizes, but realizes; and which makes the things of sense retreat, and actually give place to the things of faith, with as much certainty, as

if they were present and in possession. This, my honoured friend, is our high privilege, and, I trust, our constant desire and aim, however we may fail in the attainment. And as to our failings, we will mourn over them, and fight against them; but give no place to despondency, even for a moment, while Christ our Saviour ever liveth to intercede for us, at the right hand of the Majesty on high."

CHAPTER VI.

HER TEMPORARY ABODE AT BETCHWORTH.

From A. D. 1811 to 1812.

Accepts Dr. Fearon's offer of a vacant parsonage house-Her gratitude on the occasion-Her sense of solitude- Letters to Mrs. C-tt-She meets with an accident-Is obliged to return to London.

NINE years had now elapsed, since MRS. HAWKES went to reside with her niece, in Constitution Row. Her next remove was occasioned, not by any remarkable change in health or circumstances, but she was attracted by a very friendly and promising offer, of a vacant parsonage-house, at Betchworth, near Dorking, in Surrey; belonging to her much valued friend, the Rev. Dr. Fearon. As this opening occurred early in the summer, when the country, especially in that part, is most inviting; and as her health and nerves much needed the benefit arising from change of air, she thankfully acceded to a proposal, which seemed like a providential leading. It did not however, in the result, appear to be a spot in which MRS. HAWKES was appointed to make any long stay; her health compelling her within a few months to return to London. A memorandum, written soon after her removal to Betchworth,