should go from out of your hands to their (eternal) home. If they had been with their parents, they would not have gone home with so much blessing. I often think of Kornthal. I shall still wait to see what the Lord will do with me." She then describes her former lassitude, loss of appetite, and cough at Kornthal, and how these had now returned and increased. "I have thought that I must now remain here, if it be the will of the Lord. I am very weak; and am now, dear mother, very well taken care of by the dear aunt and sister." She also expressed her gratitude for the spiritual care which she received in the house of the Deaconesses. One day, in the early part of her sickness, she clapped her hands joyfully and laughingly, when she saw the nurse coming in. "Do you laugh at me, Pauline?" asked the Deaconess. "I do not laugh at you," she answered. "I do not know what to do for joy; 1 am a child of God. Oh! you white people; you have not so much joy as we black! You were born Christians; 1, a black heathen; I knew nothing of the Saviour; I now can die happily; I now have a Saviour; I now can die happily!" The sister who nursed her, sat one day by her bed, busy in shelling beans, when the sick girl

said suddenly, "Dear sister, will you go with me when I go to the heathen?" She answered, "I am much too weak to go to the heathen." The sick girl said, “Pauline is also weak in understanding; but yet has joy at the thought of being permitted to lead poor brethren to the Saviour. When the poor heathen see what the dear Saviour has done for me, that Pauline can die happily, they will rejoice. You, dear sister, can nurse; I cannot nurse; I can only tell of the Saviour." As she said this, she raised her hands, full of fervour: "O dear Saviour,” she said, "give the sister courage to go with me!"

She often conversed with pleasure to those around her respecting death. She one day said cheerfully, "The joiner must make me a long coffin, for I am a tall person." Being asked, in conversation, by her friend, whether she were willing to die then, she replied, "As God wills; I am willing to live, and willing to die: but I would rather live." It was from this desire of the prolonging of her life, and of her perhaps being permitted to do something for the kingdon of God among the people of her own country, that she thought at this time of sending to Kornthal for some warm winter clothing. She hoped that if by medical aid she could continue through the winter,

she might be restored to health in the spring. It was this desire of living which caused her once, when asked if she wished to go to the Saviour, to reply, "You must not always ask this question of a sick person" When a friend, in praying with her one day, spoke much of her death, she said afterwards, "I think this person wishes already to make a funeral oration over me." She was averse to making a show of religion: she appeared simply what she was: therefore when any persons were only talking religiously, and she was not in the disposition to join them, she would, in her upright and truthful manner, say frankly, "Not always talk of the Saviour!"

She spent her time in meditation on the Word of God, and was much in the exercise of prayer; for hours, especially during her sleepless nights, she was engaged in supplications. There was nothing too great, and nothing too small for her not to make it a subject of prayer: when she had no appetite for her food, she would say in her child-like simplicity, "See, dear Saviour, Pauline cannot eat: please to grant that she may be able to eat something, if it be Thy will!" For every spoonful of soup, when she could eat it, she gave thanks, as well as asked a blessing

before it. With great fervour she mentioned all her benefactors in Wirtemberg and Basle, the doctor, and all those who had shewn her kindness: she prayed, “Oh, bless, bless, dear Saviour! thy Pauline is so poor, she can give nothing: God recompense, God recompense them!"

CHAPTER VII.

One day she was especially cheerful, and was eager to communicate her thoughts to the Deaconess: she had no secrets with this kind friend; and generally called her "dear sister," frequently also "mother." On one occasion she said, "Now I have two mothers, one at Kornthal, the other in the Deaconesses' house." To this faithful sister she expressed her thoughts about the spiritual care of the sick. "Dear sister," she began, "I must say something to you "What. then, dear Pauline?" the Deaconess replied. "If I should speak about religion to a sick person," she said, "I would ask, hast thou understood? If the sick person said, Yes, I would ask, what, or respecting whom hast thou understood? If the sick person said, of the dear Saviour, I would then ask, dost thou love him? Then, since when? and why? Then, dost thou love Him with thy whole heart-love Him

truly? If the sick person could not do this, I would then say, thou must pray very fervently, that thou mayest be able to love Him entirely." She then said further to the sister, that "she should mention such a sick person by name to the Saviour, that He would grant to that person thoroughly to love Him."

It was her custom, in her many thousand prayers, to mention by name the objects of her love or her compassion to the High Priest in heaven, and to lay before Him her wishes and requests for them. Her soul delighted most in quiet and secret communion with the Lord: and even in her days of health she did not converse much. Also she did not like many visitors, especially those who were strange to her, and came perhaps out of curiosity. On this account, in her days of health, she commonly wore a veil over her face. She used to say, "I cannot bear it, when people stare at me 80." She was not willing that people should talk about her; and she was averse to speaking of herself, even when she was questioned. She would only touch upon her past life on special occasions.

She was very courteous and grateful towards her doctor, and frequently asked whether he thought that she

would get well again? When he answered, "One cannot now say anything decisive; it would, however, be a little thing to the Lord to restore you to health;" she then said. quite resignedly, "Yes, indeed, it is right as God orders. I am willing to die, if it be His will; I am also willing to live longer, if God pleases." If she were asked how she was, or, in the morning, what sort of night she had, she always answered,

"Good, quite

good: as God orders, so it must be good." She said this even when she had had a sleepless night, or felt much pain, as in her latter days she suffered much in her right lung. She had a thorough dislike to medicine, but she compelled herself to take it from a principle of obedience, till she could do so no longer. If any one read to her from God's Word, or prayed with her, she was always interested and enlivened. When once a servant of the Lord visited her at her request, and read to her the twentyfifth Psalm, and prayed with her, oh, how copiously did the tears flow over her dark face! and how earnestly did she thank him! the preferred the kneeling posture in prayer, as she considered it the most becoming for a Christian. If it happened that the old man broke forth | in her, perhaps, in some im

patience, she always counted it a sin. If she thought that she had by a word or look offended the sister who waited on her, she would say, "Forgive, forgive! The old Fatme has troubled thee, Pauline wills nothing of it." It was evident that this dear sick one was kept under the strict discipline of God's Spirit, who stirred her up to declare the truth also to others when they wrong. It was about fourteen days before her end that her nurse being obliged to go out, in her haste left the door open: a scene ensued in which the sister lost her temper: when she came back she saw Pauline in tears, with her face covered. "Dear Pauline, why are you so distressed?" she asked. "Oh, dear sister, it is on your account that I am distressed." "Why, then ? " "You were so angry no Deaconess SO angry. Oh, that gives no good impression to the sick. I love you much, very much." Then she began to pray "Dear Saviour, take away this anger from my dear sister; make her gentle, humble; so that she may not only be called a Deaconess, but be one really." And then she proceeded, "Oh, fight, fight against anger! I love you indeed: the dear Saviour has yet much to

work in you." On this and other occasions she would say. "Christians should tell each other of their faults." She took it also gratefully when told of her own faults.

She frequently spoke with great grief of the dry and dead state of her heart, and of the inward darkness which she suffered in this sickness, so that she could not pray as she was wont to do formerly For the refreshment and strengthening of her faith she partook several times of the holy Sacrament, which she enjoyed the most on a Saturday evening, the time at which she had been accustomed to receive it at Kornthal. She felt the necessity of receiving it every four weeks, and could scarcely wait for the day. It was truly heart-touching to those around her to see with what hunger and thirst she received the holy Sacrament. In her own child-like and fervent manner she afterwards gave thanks, "O dear Saviour, how precious is Thy blood! Let all my sins be sunk and lost in it! Dear Saviour, poor Pauline is not indeed worthy, but very, very needy. Oh, I rejoice to come to Thee, then may I be allowed to partake of the great Supper. Bless, bless, dear Saviour!"