t I had any duties to perform, any mercies left. Almost all
the effect which the sight of my children produced in me was, by their
resemblance to their father, to put me in mind of what I had lost.

"I was not sufficiently aware how much more truly I should have honored
his memory by training his living representatives in such a manner as
he, had he been living, would have approved. My dear George," added she,
smiling at her son through her tears, "was glad to get away to school,
and my poor girls, when they lost the company of their brother, lost
all the little cheerfulness which my recluse habits had left them. We
sunk into total inaction, and our lives became as comfortless as they
were unprofitable."

"My dear madam," said Sir George, in the most affectionate tone and
manner, "I can only forgive myself from the consideration of my being
then too young and thoughtless to know the value of the mother whose
sorrows ought to have endeared my home to me, instead of driving me from
it."

"They are _my_ faults, my dear George, and not yours, that I am
relating. Few mothers would have acted like me; few sons differently
from you. Your affectionate heart deserved a warmer return than my
broken spirits were capable of making you. But I was telling you, sir,"
said she, again addressing herself to me, "that the event of my coming
to this place, not only became the source of my present peace, and of
the comfort of my children, but that its result enables me to look
forward with a cheerful hope to that state where there is neither sin,
sorrow, nor separation. The thoughts of death, which used to render me
useless, now make me only serious. The reflection that 'the night
cometh' which used to extinguish my activity, now kindles it.

"Forgive me, sir," added she, wiping her eyes; "these are not such tears
as I then shed. These are tears of gratitude, I had almost said of joy.
In the family at the Grove, Providence had been providing for me
friends, for whom I doubt not I shall bless him in eternity.

"I had long been convinced of the importance of religion. I had always
felt the insufficiency of the world to bestow happiness; but I had never
before beheld religion in such a form. I had never been furnished with a
proper substitute for the worldly pleasures which I yet despised. I did
right in giving up diversions, but I did wrong in giving up employment,
and in neglecting duties. I knew something of religion as a principle of