ing her soul. What a mercy it
is to have such a child as mine is! I never thought about my own soul
seriously till she, poor girl, begged and prayed me to flee from the
wrath to come."

"How old are you?"

"Near seventy, and my wife is older; we are getting old, and almost past
our labour, but our daughter has left a good place, where she lived in
service, on purpose to come home and take care of us and our little
dairy. And a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is."

"Was she always so?"

"No, sir: when she was very young, she was all for the world, and
pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed, we were all very ignorant, and
thought if we took care for this life, and wronged nobody, we should be
sure to go to heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, and, like
ourselves, strangers to the ways of God and the Word of his grace. But
the eldest of them went out to service, and some years ago she heard a
sermon at --- Church, by a gentleman that was going to ---, as chaplain
to the colony; and from that time she seemed quite another creature. She
began to read the Bible, and became sober and steady. The first time she
returned home afterwards to see us, she brought us a guinea which she had
saved from her wages, and said, as we were getting old, she was sure we
should want help; adding, that she did not wish to spend it in fine
clothes, as she used to do, only to feed pride and vanity. She said she
would rather show gratitude to her dear father and mother, because Christ
had shown such mercy to her.

"We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight in her company; for
her temper and behaviour were so humble and kind, she seemed so desirous
to do us good both in soul and body, and was so different from what we
had ever seen before, that, careless and ignorant as we had been, we
began to think there must be something real in religion, or it never
could alter a person so much in a little time.

"Her youngest sister, poor soul! used to laugh and ridicule her at that
time, and said her head was turned with her new ways. 'No, sister,' she
would say; 'not my _head_, but I hope my _heart_ is turned from the love
of sin to the love of God. I wish you may one day see, as I do, the
danger and vanity of your present condition.'

"Her poor sister would reply, 'I do not want to hear any of your
preaching; I am no worse than other people, and that is enough for me.'

"'Well, sister,' Elizabeth would say, 'if