spired hope and patience under them. The support which she administered was of such a sort as might have been expected from an angel; while I, when my turn came, was too much overwhelmed with the affliction of a weak mortal. My loss comprehends every thing that was most valuable to me upon earth. I have lost the manager, whose vigilant attention to my worldly affairs, and exact method in ordering my family, preserved my mind at liberty to pursue my studies without loss of time, or distraction of thought. I have lost my almoner, who knew and understood the wants of the poor better than I did; and was always ready to supply them to the best of our ability. I have lost my counsellor, who generally knew what was best to be done in difficult cases, and to whom I always found it of some advantage to submit my compositions; and whose mind, being little disturbed with passions, was always inclined to peaceable and Christian measures. I have lost my example, who always observed a strict method of daily devotion, from which nothing could divert her, and whose patience, under every kind of trial, seemed invincible. She was blessed with the rare gift of an equal chearful temper; and preserved it, under a long course of ill health, I may say for forty years. To have reached her age would to her have been impossible without that quiet humble spirit which never admitted of murmuring and complaining either in herself or others; and patient quiet sufferers were the favourite objects of her private charities. It might be of use to some good people to know, that she had formed her mind after the rules of the excellent Bishop Taylor, in his Holy Living and Dying; an author of whom she was a great admirer in common with her dear friend Bishop Horne, I have lost my companion, whose conversation was sufficient of itself, if the world was absent-to the surprize of some of my neighbours, who remarked how much of our time we spent in solitude, and wondered what we could find to converse about. But her mind was so well furnished, and her objects so well selected, that there were few great subjects in which we had not a common interest. I have lost my best friend, who, regardless of herself, studied my ease and advantage in every thing. These things may be small to others, but they are great to me; and, though they are gone as a vision of the night, the memory of them will always be upon my mind during the remainder of my journey, which I must now travel alone. Nevertheless, if the Word of God be my companion, and his Holy Spirit my guide, I need not be solitary-till I shall once more join my departed saint, never more to be separated; which God grant in his good time, according to his word and promise in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. From your faithful and afflicted, 1799, April. W. J. IV. Narrative of the Sufferings of ELIZABETH WOODCOCK. (See p. 465.) ELIZABETH WOODCOCK, aged forty-two years, went on horseback from Impington to Cambridge, on Saturday, being market day, the 2d of February, 1799. On her return home in the evening, between six and seven o'clock, being about half a mile from her own house, her horse started at a sudden light, which proceeded, most probably, from a meteor, a phænomenon which, at this season of the year, not unfrequently happens. She was herself struck with the light, and exclaimed "Good God! what can this be!" It was a very inclement stormy night, a bleak wind blew boisterously from the N. E. The ground was covered by the great quantities of snow that had fallen during the day, yet it was not spread uniformly over the surface. The deepest ditches were many of them completely filled up, whilst in the open fields there was but a thin covering; but in the roads and lanes, and many narrow and inclosed parts, it had accumulated to a considerable depth, no where yet so as to render the ways impassable, but still enough to retard and impede the traveller. The horse, upon his starting, ran backward, and approached to the brink of a ditch, which the poor woman recollected, and, fearing lest the animal in his fright should plunge into it, very prudently dismounted with all expedition. Her intention was to walk, and lead the horse home; but he started again, and broke from her. She repeated her attempt to take hold of the bridle; but the horse, still under the impression of fear, turned suddenly out of the road, and directed his steps to the right over the common field. She followed him, in hopes of quickly overtaking him, but, unfortunately, she lost one of her shoes in the snow. She was already wearied with the exertion she had made, and besides, had a beavy basket on her arm, containing several articles of domestic consumption, which she had brought from market. By these means her pursuit of the horse was greatly impeded; she however persisted, and followed him through an opening in a hedge, a little beyond which she overtook him (about a quarter of a mile from the place where she alighted,) and, taking hold of the bridle, made another attempt to lead him home. But she had not re-traced her steps farther than a thicket, which lies contiguous to the said hedge,* when she found herself so much fatigued and exhausted, her hands and feet, particularly her left foot, which was without a shoe, so very much benumbed, that she was unable to proceed farther. Sitting down then upon the ground in this state, and letting go the bridle, "Tinker," she said, calling the horse by his name, "I am too much tired to go any farther, you must go home without me;" and exclaimed, "Lord have mercy upon me! what will become of me!" Theground on which she sat was upon a level with the common field, close under the thicket on the South West. She well knew the situation of it, and what was its distance from and bearing with respect to her own house. There was then but a small quantity of snow drifted near her; but it was beginning to accumulate, and did actually accumulate so rapidly, that, when Chesterton bell rang at eight o'clock, she was completely inclosed and hemmed in by it. The depth of the snow in which she was enveloped was about six feet in a perpendicular direction; over her head between two and three. Her imprisonment was now complete, for she was incapable of making any effectual attempt to extricate herself, and, in addition to her fatigue and cold, her clothes were stiffened by the frost. Resigning herself, therefore, calmly to the necessity of her bad situation, she sat awaiting the dawn of the following day. To the best of her recollection, she slept very little during the first night, or, indeed, any of the succeeding nights or days, except on Friday the 8th. Early the next morning she distinctly heard the ringing of a bell at one of the villages at a small distance. Her mind was now turned (as it was most natural) to the thoughts of her preservation, and busied itself in concerting expedients, by means of which any one who chanced to come near the place might discover her. On the morning of the third, the first after her imprisonment, observing before her a circular holet in the snow, about *“Parallel to a part of this hedge, and contiguous to it, is a small thicket of black and white thorn, which, having been cut down a few years ago, is now grown up to the height of about five feet." +"The poor woman says, that the extremity of this hole was closed u with a thin covering of snow or ice, on the first morning, which easily tras two feet in length and half a foot in diameter, running obliquely upwards through the mass, she broke off a branch of the bush, which was close to her, and with it thrust her handkerchief through the hole, and hung it, as a signal of distress, upon one of the uppermost twigs that remained uncovered; an expedient which will be seen, in the sequel, to have occasioned her discovery. She bethought herself, at the same time, that the change of the moon was near; and having an almanack in her pocket, she took it out, though with great difficulty, and consulting it, found that there would be a new moon the next day, February 4th. The difficulty which she found in getting the almanack out of her pocket arose, in a great measure, from the stiffness of her frozen clothes, before-mentioned. The trouble, however, was compensated by the consolation which the prospect of so near a change in her favour afforded. She makes no scruple to say, that she perfectly distinguished the alterations of day and night; heard the bells of her own and some of the neighbouring villages, several different times, particularly that of Chesterton;* was sensible of the living scene around her, frequently noticing the sound of carriages upon the road, the natural cries of animals, such as the bleating of sheep and lambs, and the barking of dogs. One day she overheard a conversation carried on by two gypsies, relative to an ass, which they had lost. She afterwards specified, it was not their asses, in general terms, that they were talking about, but some particular one; and her precision in this respect has been confirmed by the acknowledgment of the gypsies themselves. She recollects having pulled out her snuff-box and taken two pinches of snuff; but, what is very strange, she felt so little gratification from it, that she never repeated it. A common observer would have imagined the irritation arising from the snuff would have been peculiarly grateful to her, and that, being deprived of all other comforts, she would have solaced herself with those which the box afforded, till the contents of it were exhausted. Possibly, however, the cold she endured might have so far blunted her powers of sen mitted the light. When she put out her handkerchief she broke it; in consequence of which, the external air being admitted, she felt herself very cold. On the second morning it was again closed up in a similar manner, and continued so till the third day, after which time it remained open." "Chesterton bell rings every night at eight o'clock, and four in the morning, during the winter half of the year, Sundays excepted, and is at the distance of nearly two miles from the place where she sat." sation that the snuff no longer retained its stimulus. At another time, finding her left hand beginning to swell, in consequence of her reclining, for a considerable time, on that arm, she took two rings, the tokens of her nuptial vows twice pledged, from her finger, and put them, together with a little money which she had in her pocket, into a small box, sensibly judging that, should she not be found alive, the rings and money, being thus deposited, were less likely to be overlooked by the discoverers of her breathless corpse. She frequently shouted out, in hopes that her vociferations reaching the ears of any that chanced to pass that way, they might be drawn to the spot where she was. But the snow so far prevented the transmission of her voice, that no one heard her. The gypsies, who passed nearer to her than any other persons, were not sensible of any sound proceeding from her snow-formed cavern, though she particularly endeavoured to attract their attention. When the period of her seclusion approached to a termination, and a thaw took place on the Friday after the commencement of her misfortunes, she felt uncommonly faint and languid; her clothes were wet quite through by the melted snow; the aperture before-mentioned became considerably enlarged, and tempted her to make an effort to release herself; but, alas! it was a vain attempt; her strength was too much impaired; her feet and legs were no longer obedient to her will, and her clothes were become very much heavier by the water which they had imbibed. And now, for the first time, she began to despair of ever being discovered or taken out alive; and declares that, all things considered, she could not have survived a continuation of her sufferings for the space of twenty-four hours longer. It was now that the morning of her emancipation was arrived, her sufferings increased; she sat with one of her hands spread over her face, and fetched the deepest sighs; her breath was short and difficult, and symptoms of approaching dissolution became every hour more alarming. On Sunday, the 10th of February, a young farmer, whose name is Joseph Muncey, in his way home from Cambridge, about half past twelve o'clock, crossed over the open field, and passed very near the spot where the woman was. loured handkerchief, hanging upon the tops of the twigs, where it was before said she had suspended it, caught his eye; he walked up to the place, and espied an opening in the snow. It was the very aperture which led to the prisoner's apartment. He heard a sound issue from it, similar A co "This apartment, as I have termed it, was sufficiently large to afford |