her mother's case, and specially when he apprehended immediate danger. Accordingly, on the morning of her decease he told Miss Dryland his fears, and she at once telegraphed his apprehensions to London, so that her brothers were able to reach Tunbridge Wells in time to receive their mother's last farewell, and to see her fall asleep in Jesus. In this bereavement, though deeply trying, Martha's self-possession never forsook her, and at her own request she remained alone at the Wells till the day of the funeral. A beloved friend of Miss Dryland, who had much personal intercourse with her between the death and burial, says that, while the depth of Martha's grief was unmistakeable, she was full of affectionate care for the comfort of others, and would not relinquish a little season daily apportioned to the promotion of the spiritual welfare of the young people of the house in which she was lodging. Only once did she appear completely overwhelmed as she and her friend knelt by the coffin's side; but even then she soon regained composure, and exchanged the voice of petition that had failed to be fully uttered, for words of praise to Him who had given to one so beloved the victory. In reference to this trial, the loss of the parent who was at once her guide, and the object of her

tenderest solicitude, she says, in a letter to a friend, written a few weeks afterwards :

:

To MISS D

"York Terrace.

"Yes, I could say, 'All is well' then, and I can say it now. In your last note you ask if I was prepared for the result. I have been aware for the last two or three months that there was a change, and yet it seemed not improbable that my mother might remain for years. But the result of examination tells us that had life continued, it must have been spent in increasing suffering, and therefore we could not wish it otherwise. I remember the extract in Winslow; it is very refreshing. I have had much kindness from all around, and many kind letters. This is the first to which I have replied; for I have felt it important to keep quite calm, as I have had much to attend to; and besides, had my brother not known that I was so, he would have felt so much more anxiety on my account. I have, therefore, avoided everything, which was not really necessary, that would arouse thoughts and feelings which my present lonely position is so apt to produce. I have to bless God for a calm trust in Him, and it is seldom that He permits me to feel the

me.

full sadness which otherwise might overwhelm But of this I must not speak now. I find that the evening hours are the most trying; and though our Jane comes creeping softly into my sitting-room, and kindly asks if she shall sit with me a little, yet I find it very difficult to suppress the rising tear as I look at the empty sofa and feel I have no mother."

Shortly after the death of her mother, Miss Dryland took up her abode in London with her brother, who was in business in the City. Here she connected herself with the Church of Christ worshipping in the Poultry Chapel, and at once gave herself to active labour for the good of others.

A class of young females, mostly domestic servants, had just been deprived of their teacher by her removal from the City, and Miss Dryland was appointed to succeed her. It was, of course, in this sphere that my acquaintance with her began, early in 1854. There was something in her appearance, in her placid and expressive countenance, in her quiet demeanour, in the keen glance of her dark eye, and the evident earnestness of her spirit, that could hardly fail to attract even a stranger; and that which at first might be a feeling of unusual interest,

soon passed when opportunities of acquaintance were enjoyed, into admiration and affection. And here, once for all, I may be allowed to say that often in my public ministry and pastoral labours have I been encouraged, cheered, and stimulated by the example and converse of Martha Dryland. Rarely does it fall to the lot of a Christian minister to have such a labourer amongst the members of his flock, one so thoroughly devoted to the good of others for the glory of her Master. She did not always think her pastor right, and sometimes, but with. the greatest humility, she would tell him so. Yet this rendered intercourse with her so much the more valuable, and gave to her love the weight of a principle more than the effervescence of a feeling. Her character, however, as a friend, a Christian disciple, and a Sunday-school teacher will appear better from her own letters than from any statements of mine. The dates of the letters are given as far as practicable; but as many are without dates, and some were written in pencil, it has been found impossible to be strictly chronological in their order.

TO MISS G.

"You would have loved to hear our minister this morning speaking about the sympathy of

Jesus, companionship of Jesus, friendship of Jesus, in comparison of earthly friends. It made me think of that wonderful sentence uttered by Mr. Hewitson, I am better acquainted with the Lord Jesus than with any other friend.' Thus it should be, and when we remember how He has laid His heart open to us in His Word, it seems that we might attain to this acquaintance. Our friends we can only know as they let us know them. But Jesus is all reality, and if the Spirit reveal Him, what may we not know ?"

TO HER PASTOR.

"June, 1856. "How calming to you must be the remembrance that every circumstance of your daily life is arranged for you by your Father in heaven, with reference to your being made a 'partaker of His holiness.' We speak of the headache, which unfits for mental exertion, as the result of over-excitement, or the weariness which prevents the active working for Christ as the effect of over-exertion, but in our inmost spirit we feel that such things are but the loving hand of our Saviour gently laid upon us, while He reminds us that He has other ways in which we may prove our love to Him, even by the quiet relinquishment of our desires, and the cheerful