abroad, and therefore turned the edge of all her reflections upon herself.

Her conversation might, for this reason, seem to want something of that salt and smartness which the ill-natured part of the world are so fond of; a want that she could have easily supplied, would her principles have given her leave; but her settled opinion was, that the good name of any one was too tender and serious a thing to be played with, and that it was a foolish kind of mirth which, in order to divert some, hurt others. She could never bring herself to think that the only thing which gave life and spirit to discourse was, to have somebody's faults for the subject of it, or that the pleasure of a visit lay in the giving up the company to one another's sport and malice by turns; and if these are the marks of wit and good-breeding, it must be confessed that she had neither.

With all this goodness, gentleness, and meekness of disposition, she had at the same time a degree of spirit and firmness unusual in her sex, and was particularly observed to have a wonderful presence of mind in any occurrence of danger.

With these excellent endowments, she had a modesty of temper, which shone throughout her whole life and conversation. A quality so strictly required of her sex, that it may be thought not so properly commendable in any of them to have it, as infamous to want it. However, in the most common and ordinary graces, there are uncommon heights and degrees, and it was the particular happiness of this lady, remarkably to excel in every virtue that belonged to her, even in those in which Christians of the lowest attainments do in some degree excel.

Her love of purity was the cause why she banished herself from those public diversions of the town, at which it was scarce possible to be present without hearing somewhat that wounded chaste ears, and for which she thought no amends could be made to

virtue by any degree of wit or humour with which they might abound. These good qualities, she knew, served only to recommend the poison, and make it palatable. She had really neither relish nor leisure for such entertainments, nor for a thousand other things, which the world miscalls pleasures. Not that she wanted naturally a taste for any thing of this kind, for her apprehension was fine, and her wit very good, and very ready at command, whenever she pleased to exercise it; but she had turned her thoughts so much towards things of use and importance, that matters of mere pleasure grew flat and indifferent to her. She was so taken up with the care of improving her understanding, and bettering her life, in the discharge of the offices necessary to her rank, in the duties of her closet, and the concerns of her family, that she found at the foot of the account but little time, and had less mind to give into those vain amusements.

She did not think it the peculiar happiness and privilege of the great to have nothing to do, but took care to fill every vacant minute of her life with some useful or innocent employment. The several hours of the day had their peculiar business allotted to them; whether it were conversation, or work, or reading, or domestic affairs; each of which came up orderly in its turn, and was, as the wise man speaks, under her management, "beautiful in its season."

Yet, this regularity of hers was free and natural, without formality or constraint. It was neither troublesome to herself, nor to those who were near her. When, therefore, any accident intervened, it was interrupted at that time with as much ease as it was at other times practised; for, among all her discretionary rules, the chief was, to seem to have none, and to make those she had laid down to herself, give way always to circumstances and occasions.

She wrought with her own hands often when she could more profitably and pleasingly have employed

her time in meditation or reading; but she was willing to set an example to those who could not, and she took care, therefore, that her example should be well followed by all that were under her immediate influence. For she well knew, that the description of a good wife and a perfect woman in the Proverbs, a description which she much delighted in, and often read, was spent chiefly in commending that diligence" by which she looked well to the ways of "her household, and ate not the bread of idleness;" and she knew also, that the person whose words these are said to be, was no less a woman than the mother of King Lemuel.

Diligence and frugality are sisters; and she therefore, who was so well acquainted with the one, was not likely to be a stranger to the other. She was strictly careful of her expenses, and yet knew how to be generous, and to abound, when the occasion required. But, of all ways of good management, she liked that the worst which shuts our hands to the poor; towards whom she always showed herself compassionate and charitable. Of the other delights with which an high fortune furnished her, she was almost insensible; but on this account she valued it, as it gave her an opportunity of pursuing the several pleasures of beneficence, and of tasting all the sweets of well-doing. "She delivered the poor that cried, " and the fatherless, and him that had none to help "him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon her, and she caused the widow's heart "to sing for joy." Job, xxix. 12, 13. In the exercise of this, and of all other virtues, she was wonderfully secret, endeavouring to come up as near as she could to the rule of not "letting her left hand know what "her right hand did." This secrecy of hers she managed so well, that some of the most remarkable instances of her goodness were not known till after her death; no, not by him who was the partaker of all her joys and sorrows.

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Retirement and privacy she always loved, and therefore chose them, when after the death of a near relation, who had the care of her education, she was at liberty to have lived otherwise. From that time to her marriage, which was more than three years, she hid herself in the country, having an early and settled aversion to the noise and inconveniences of a town-life, and too little an opinion of herself to think that it was so much the interest of virtue and religion, as it really was, that she should be known and distinguished. When afterwards she went to court, as it was necessary for her sometimes to do, she did it with an air which plainly showed that she went to pay her duty there, and not to delight herself in the pomp and glitter of the place.

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Soon after her marriage, she declared to several friends her thoughts, "that every woman of quality was as much obliged, as she was more enabled "than other women, to do good in the world; and "that the shortest and surest way of doing this, was "to endeavour, by all means, to be as good a Chris"tian, and as good a wife, and as good a friend, as "was possible."

She endeavoured to do all this, and she fell not far short of her mark; for she excelled in all the characters that belonged to her, and was in a great measure equal to all the obligations under which she lay. She was devout without superstition; strict, without ill humour; good-natured, without weakness; cheerful, without levity; and regular, without affectation. She was to her husband the best of wives, the most agreeable of companions, and the best of friends; to her servants, the best of mistresses; to her relations, extremely respectful; to her inferiors, very obliging; and by all who knew her, either nearly, or at a distance, she was reckoned, and confessed, to be one of the best of women.

Short as her life was, she had time enough to adorn the several stages of virginity and marriage,

and to experience the sadness of a kind of widowhood too; for such she accounted it when her lord was long absent from her; mourned as much, and refused to be comforted till his return.

As her life was short, so her death was sudden. She was called away in haste, and without any warning. One day she drooped, and the next day she died; nor was there the distance of many hours between her being very easy in this world, and very happy in another.

However, though she was seized thus suddenly by death, yet, she was not surprised, for she was ever in preparation for it; "her loins girt," as the Scripture speaks," and her lamp ready trimmed and burning." The moment almost that she was taken ill, she was just risen from her knees, and had made an end of her morning devotions; and to such a one, a sudden death might well be desirable. Where a pious soul is in perfect readiness, there the sooner the fatal stroke is struck the better; all delays in this case are uncomfortable to the dying. In truth, she could not be called away more hastily than she was willing to go. She had been used so much to have her conversation in Heaven, and her soul had been so often upon the wing thither, that it readily left its earthly station, upon the least notice from above, and took as it were the very first opportunity of quitting her body, without lingering, or expecting a second summons. She stayed no longer after she was called, than to assure her lord of her entire resignation to the Divine will, and of her having no manner of uneasiness upon her mind, and to take her leave of him with all the expressions of tenderness. When this was over, she had nothing more to do. She sank immediately under her illness, and after a short unquiet slumber, slept in peace.

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