to be the last survivor of a family whose years were protracted far beyond the ordinary age of man. Mehetabel, her sister, had a life of more unmingled affliction. In the spring freshness of youth and hope, her affections were engaged by one who, in point of abilities and situation, might have been a suitable husband; some circumstances, however, occasioned a disagreement with her father, the match was broken off, and Hetty committed a fatal error, which many women have committed in their just but blind resentment—she married the first person who offered. This was a man in no desirable rank of life, of coarse mind and manners, inferior to herself in education and in intellect, and every way unworthy of a woman whose equal in all things it would have been difficult to find. For her person was more than commonly pleasing, her disposition gentle and affectionate, her principles those which arm the heart either for prosperous or adverse fortune, her talents remarkable, and her attainments beyond what are ordinarily permitted to women, even those who are the most highly educated. Duty in her had produced so much affection toward the miserable creature whom she had made her husband, that the brutal profligacy of his conduct almost broke her heart. Under such feelings, and at a time when she believed and hoped that she should soon be at peace in the grave, she composed this Epitaph for herself: Destined while living to sustain An equal share of grief and pain, Without complaint she learn'd to bear From that illness, however, she recovered, so far as to linger on for many years, living to find in religion the consolation which she needed, and which nothing else can bestow. The state of her mind is beautifully expressed in the first letter which she ever addressed to John upon the subject. "Some years ago," she says, "I told my brother Charles I could not be of his way of thinking then, but that if ever I was, I would as freely own it. After I was convinced of sin, and of your opinion, as far as I had examined your principles, I still forbore declaring my sentiments so openly as I had inclination to do, fearing I should relapse into my former state. When I was delivered from this fear, and had a blessed hope that he who had begun would finish his work, I never confessed, so fully as I ought, how entirely I was of your mind; because I was taxed with insincerity and hypocrisy whenever I opened my mouth in favour of religion, or owned how great things God had done for me. This discouraged me utterly, and prevented me from making my change as public as my folly and vanity had formerly been. But now my health is gone, I cannot be easy without declaring that I have long desired to know but one thing, that is Jesus Christ, and him crucified; and this desire prevails above all others. And though I am cut off from all human help or ministry, I am not without assistance; though I have no spiritual friend, nor ever had one yet, except perhaps once in a year or two, when I have seen one of my brothers, or some other religious person, by stealth; yet (no thanks to me) I am enabled to seek Him still, and to be satisfied with nothing less than God, in whose presence I affirm this truth.-I dare not desire health, only patience, resignation, and the spirit of an healthful mind. I have been so long weak, that I know not how long my trial may last; but I have a firm persuasion, and blessed hope, (though no full assurance,) that, in the country I am going to, I shall not sing Hallelujah, and holy, holy, holy, without company, as I have done in this. Dear brother, I am unused to speak or write on these things: I only speak my plain thoughts as they occur. Adieu! If you have time from better business to send a line to Stanmore, so great a comfort would be as welcome as it is wanted." 66 She lived eight years after this letter was written, bearing her sufferings with patience and pious hope. Charles was with her in her last illness. He says in his journal, Prayed by my sister Wright, a gracious, tender, trembling soul; a bruised reed, which the Lord will not break." "Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself, for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended." From these words he preached her funeral sermon, with a feeling which brought him into "sweet fellowship with the departed ;" and he says, that all who were present seemed to partake both of his sorrow and his joy. * Another of the sisters married a clergyman by name Whitelamb, who had been John's pupil at Oxford, was beholden to the family during his stay at college, and obtained the living of Wroote after his father-in-law's death. John, in the beginning of his regular itinerancy, on his way back from Newcastle, after his first appearance in that town, came to Epworth. Many years had elapsed since he had been in his native place, and not knowing whether there were any persons left in it who would not be ashamed of his acquaintance, he went to an inn, where, however, he was soon found out by an old servant of his father's. The next day being Sunday, he called upon the curate, Mr. Romley, and offered to assist him either by preaching or reading prayers; but his assistance was refused, and the use of the pulpit was denied him. A rumour, however, prevailed, that he was to preach in the afternoon; the church was filled in consequence, and a sermon was delivered upon the evils of enthusiasm, to which Wesley listened with his characteristic composure. But when the sermon was over, his companion gave notice, as the "John * Writing to his brother Samuel in 1732, Wesley says, Whitelamb wants a gown much: I am not rich enough to buy him one at present. If you are willing, my twenty shillings (that were) should go towards that, I will add ten to them, and let it lie till I have tried my utmost with my friends to make up the price of a new one." people were coming out, that Mr. Wesley, not being permitted to preach in the church, would preach in the church-yard at six o'clock. "Accordingly," says he, " at six I came, and found such a congregation as I believe Epworth never saw before. I stood near the east end of the church, upon my father's tomb-stone, and cried, The kingdom of heaven is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."" Wesley has been accused harshly and hastily of want of feeling, because he preached upon his father's grave. But it was from feeling, as much as enthusiasm, that he acted, knowing that he should derive a deeper passion from the ground upon which he stood; like the Greek tragedian, who when he performed Electra, brought into the theatre the urn containing the ashes of his own child. Nor was there any danger that the act should be misconstrued by those who heard him mad they might think him, but they knew his domestic character, and were assured that he had not stood with a holier or more reverential feeling beside that grave when his father's body was consigned to it, earth to earth. Seven successive evenings he preached upon that tomb-stone, and in no place did he ever preach with greater effect. "Lamentations," he says, "and great groanings, were heard, God bowing their hearts so, and on every side, as, with one accord, they lifted up their voices and wept aloud, several dropt down as dead; and, among the rest, such a cry was heard of sinners groaning for the righteous |