I

sorrows of nature and the bemoanings of sisterly affection, rejoice in the Lord, and again I say rejoice. Let the thoughts of her bliss, of the glory with which she is now surrounded, of which she is now possessed, enable you not only to submit, but even to rejoice in this tribulation; and may the Spirit of grace and consolation bring such promises and gospel supports to your recollection, as may be suited to your case, and which, did I feel myself equal to the undertaking, I could but suggest-he only could apply. should say something of our very dear friend, Mr. Keith. Oh he behaves under this trial, like the affectionate friend, the tender, bowed down, bereaved husband; yet like the exercised, the experienced, the established christian. I trust, he has learned many an useful lesson from our departed friend, and I hope he will now be enabled to put them in practice. You will excuse me from writing more at length: I feel myself too much overcome to be able to do it. May God support and comfort our dear Mr. Keith, Mrs. Spencer, you, my dear Miss Sproat, and all most intimately interested in the dear deceased; and sanctify this stroke of his providence to many in the congregation, who have been witnesses of her zeal and sincerity in the service of our dear Lord and Master; that, in addition to the good she has done, while living, she, though dead in the flesh, yet living in our hearts, may

still speak to the glory of God, and the good of souls. With my sincere prayers for you, my dear Miss Sproat, I remain with sympathizing regard, your friend and servant,

MARTHA LAURENS RAMSAY.

TO MISS M. E. L. PINCKNEY.*

"THAT it is better to go to the house of mourning," is not only one of those assertions, which, coming from the pen of inspiration, we are bound humbly to receive as truth; but I believe, dear Mary, the experience of every feeling heart, which has gone on but a moderate way in the journey of life, will testify, that by the occasional sadness of the countenance, the heart is made better; and that sympathy with our fellow creatures is not only grateful to them, but useful to ourselves.

I went early into the garden to breathe fresh air, and delight myself with the fair face of nature, and to cut some sweet flowers for my sweet Fan and you. None of your cousins are yet stirring, and I thought I would write a little note in their stead. The tone of my mind has framed the style of my letter. We are going this morn

This note was not received in season to be inserted in the Arst edition of these memoirs.

ing to attend the funeral of our dear respected Mr. Coram; and this evening or afternoon, our poor Jack will be carried to his last earthly home. As we ought to learn good from every thing, I hope I shall profit by the lesson of today, and not only rejoice in the many sunshine days of my life, but to make a good use too of a cloudy one. It seems a long time since I have seen Fan and you. I think your cousins, as well as myself, would be delighted if you were to come early and drink tea with them. Darling Sabina, with all her youthful spirits, has shown so much feeling for poor Mrs. Coram, as makes me love and admire that sweet elasticity of her virtuous mind, thus accommodating itself to passing circumstances, more than I can express. Adieu, dear girls, and believe me, tenderly, yours,

M. L. RAMSAY.

EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS WRITTEN BY MRS. RAMSAY, TO HER SON AT PRINCETON COLLEGE.

*

FROM MARTHA LAURENS RAMSAY, TO DAVID RAMSAY, JUN. AT PRINCETON COLLEGE.

Charleston, May 7, 1810.

THE first thing I did when you left me, dear David, was to retire for a few moments to your chamber, and relieve my labouring heart, by commending you solemnly and affectionately to the good providence of our heavenly Father. I composed myself as soon as possible, and set about my accustomed domestic duties. Soon after, Dr. Abeel came in; he passed a parting half hour with us, and began his journey the same evening. I should be glad that my wishes and my hopes about the perfect recovery of this excellent and interesting man, held at all equal pace: but, I confess, that I wish more than I dare hope.

While I was in your chamber, I discovered the little treatise (Dr. Waterhouse's lecture to the students of the university at Cambridge on smoking tobacco) which your father had request

*Many of the same kind, written by her on a preceding similar occasion, were unfortunately destroyed in 1782, when the College was burnt.

ed you to read, and which, in the main, I ap prove of so highly, that I have given away half a dozen to persons in whom I am much less interested than in you. I sent it after you by Coony, who says you received it safely. I hope its contents will not be lost upon you, nor the book itself lost by you. While we were in church, on Friday afternoon, there came up a severe thunderstorm; and while Mr. Palmer was in the act of praying for you and your fellow passengers, the flashes of lightning and peals of thunder added not a little to the solemn feeling of many persons in the church, interested most tenderly in the fate of the mixed multitude on board the Pennsylvania.

I shall be counting the days till I hear from you. It will be no disappointment to me, or rather, it will give me no pain to learn that you have not entered the Junior class: to whatever class you belong, do your duty in it. Be respectful to your superiors, live affectionately! with your equals; make yourself a party in no broils, but mind your own business; give dignity to the Carolina name; write to me accurately on every subject which concerns you. Be not ashamed of religion; read your Bible diligently, it will not only make you wise unto sal vation, but you will find in it excellent directions for your conduct in the affairs of this life, Your grandfather, Laurens, used to say, if men