me trouve hors de tout etat spirituel, dans la voie
commune des gens tiedes qui vivent a leur aise. Cependant cette languor
universelle jointe a l'abandon qui me fait acceptes tout et qui
m'empeche de rien rechercher, ne laisse pas de m'abattre, et je sens
que j'ai quelquefois besoin de donner a mes sens quelque amusement pour
m'egayer. Aussi le fais--je simplement, mais bien mieux quand je suis
seul que quand je suis avec mes meilleurs amis. Quand je suis seul, je
joue quelquefois comme un petit enfant, etc., etc.

The letter may be found in Vol. V., pp. 411-12, of Madame Guyon's
LETTRES CHRETIENNES ET SPIRITUELLES _sur divers Sujets qui regardent
La Vie Interieure, ou L'esprit du vrai Christianisme_--enrichie de la
Correspondance secrette de MR. DE FENELON avec l'Auteur. London, 1768.
The whole work is extremely interesting.

* * * * *

G.

[From The Evangelist of May 27, 1875.]

IN MEMORIAM.

Died in Paris, France, May 8, 1875, VIRGINIA S. OSBORN, only daughter of
William H. and Virginia S. Osborn, of this city, and granddaughter of
the late Jonathan Sturges.

The sudden death of this gifted young girl has overwhelmed with grief a
large social and domestic circle. Last February, in perfect health and
full of the brightest anticipations, she set out, in company with her
parents and a young friend, on a brief foreign tour. After passing
several weeks at Rome and visiting other famous cities of Italy, she had
just reached Paris on the way home when a violent fever seized upon her
brain, and, in defiance of the tenderest parental care and the best
medical skill, hurried her into the unseen world.

And yet it is hardly possible to realise that this brilliant young life
has forever vanished away from earth, for she seemed formed alike by
nature and Providence for length of days. Already her character gave the
fairest promise of a perfect woman. It possessed a strength and maturity
beyond her years. Although not yet twenty-one, her varied mental culture
and her knowledge of almost every branch of English literature, history,
poetry, fiction, even physical science, were quite remarkable; nor was
she ignorant of some of the best French and German, not to speak of
Latin, authors. We have never known one of her age whose intellectual
tastes were of a higher order. She seemed to feel equally at home in
reading Shakespeare and Goethe; Prescott, Motley, and Froude; Mrs.
Austin, Scott, an