ot all. Such
love is a Christian grace. He that "hath" it, has it because he
"dwelleth in God and God in him." It is the charity which Paul
inculcated; that which "thinketh no evil," which "hopeth" and "believeth
all things." It has its root in humility; it grows only by the uprooting
of self. He who would cultivate it, must follow the injunction to let
nothing be done through strife or vainglory, but in lowliness of heart
esteem others better than himself. As Jesus took a little child and set
him in the midst to teach his disciples, so would we place this young
Christian woman in the assemblies of some who are "called of men Rabbi,
Rabbi," that they may learn from her "which be the first principles" of
the Christian life.

But let no one suppose that there was any weakness or want of just
discrimination in the subject of this memoir. It is true that the
gentler elements predominated in her character, and her father knew what
she needed, when he gave her the playful advice to "_have more of
Cato_." Without Christian principle she might have been a victim of
morbid sensitiveness, or even at the mercy of fluctuating impulses; but
religion supplied the tonic she needed, and by the grace of God aiding
her own efforts, we see her possessed of firmness of purpose and moral
courage enough to rebuke many of us who are made of sterner stuff.

For want of room we pass over many beautiful extracts from the memoir
made to exhibit the traits of her character, and to illustrate what is
said by the reviewer.

In September, 1843, Miss H. was married to the Rev. J. Van Lennep, and
in the following October sailed with him for his home in Smyrna. Our
readers have learned from the letter of Rev. Mr. Goodell, which we
lately published, through what vicissitudes Mrs. Van Lennep passed after
her arrival at Constantinople, which had been designated as her field of
labor.

It was there she died, September 27, 1844, in the twenty-third year of
her age, only one year and twenty-three days from her marriage-day, and
before she had fully entered upon the life to which she had consecrated
herself. Of her it has been as truly as beautifully said:

"Thy labor in the vineyard closed,
Long e'er the noon-tide sun,
The dew still glistened on the leaves,
When thy short task was done."

And yet this life, "so little in itself," may be found to have an
importance in its consequences, hardly anticipated at first by those
who, overwhelmed by t