and most deeply afflicted; for your and my beloved Harriet is gone! Yes; the wife of my youth-the partner of all my joys and sorrows-the mother of my three (now motherless) children is gone. That tender, that most affectionate heart, has ceased to beat; and all her anxious cares concerning those whom she loved as her own soul, are over. She has passed the Jordan, and is, I doubt not, in the heavenly Canaan, rejoicing with joy unspeakable and full of glory. She is now in

that world of spirits bright,' where no sin or sorrow can enter. My dear afflicted mother, do not mourn, but rejoice. Our too dear Harriet is with her Saviour, whom she loved better than all here; though she loved us very much.

"But I must give you a few particulars. On Sunday she was somewhat ill, but went to church both forenoon and afternoon. I tried rather to dissuade her from going in the afternoon, and she at first concluded to stay at home; but, as the children wished it, she went, and seemed comfortable. On her return, she was a little fatigued, and lay down a short time on the bed; after which she rose and went down to tea. We

then had family prayers. I read the 46th Psalm, and made some remarks upon it, which appeared to interest her; and we conversed on the privilege of casting all our burdens upon the Lord. Afterwards she went to her room, heard the little girls repeat their hymns and lessons, and directed their devotions for the night.

"I went out to my study; but not being so well as usual, came in early. Finding the door of her room shut, and having a sick headache, I lay down on a

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couch. This was very unusual for me, and caused her to inquire a little anxiously about my health when she came from her room. She said, I cannot bear to see you so unwell;' and soon added, I do not feel so well myself: I have a peculiar sensation in my breast.' I requested her to be as quiet as possible, and recommended that she should take a little laudanum, and lie down. She did so, and went to sleep; but in a short time awoke, feeling the same distress in her breast. I then immediately sent for Dr. Scudder and Mrs. Spaulding, supposing that she was about to be confined. She was partially relieved of the distress by turns, but continued very uneasy, and unable to rest in any position. She frequently requested me to pray for her. Dr. Scudder came about two o'clock in the morning: he said that she had better be bled, and take a little more laudanum, and she would probably be relieved. He bled her freely, and she also vomited. This relieved ber; so that she lay down quietly, and said that she felt quite at ease. She took a little coffee; and before she went to sleep, called me (as Mrs. Spaulding was taking care of her), and insisted on my lying down on the couch, on account of my being unwell, saying, at the same time, Do you know, my dear, how good it is to be perfectly at ease after severe pain?' I said, You feel thankful.' Her reply was, Yes, I think I do. How good is the Lord!' She then very pleasantly bade me good-night, and fell quietly asleep. This was probably the last she knew on earth. After a short time, Mrs. Spaulding noticed a peculiarity in her breathing, and attempted to awake her. As she did not succeed, she called Dr. Scudder and myself; but,

268 MEMOIR OF MRS. HARRIET W. L. WINSLOW.

as the sleep was quiet and pulse regular, there seemed to be no danger. We again left the room; but were soon called back to notice some slight twitches of the eyes and face, which were, ere long, followed by a convulsive fit. We were then greatly alarmed, and Dr. Scudder used every exertion to prevent a recurrence of the spasms. All was without success; and after two or three returns of the convulsions, the breath of my beloved wife grew shorter and shorter, and, a little before six o'clock on Monday morning, the 14th instant, without a struggle or a groan, she resigned her spirit.

"The funeral took place at five o'clock P.M. of the same day. We sang at the house, Why should we mourn departing friends,' &c.; and at the grave, Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb,' &c.; and I believe all felt that they expressed our sentiments, our feelings, and our hopes. The mortal remains were deposited in the church near those of our dear George:-thus was one and one in the arms, of the fond spirits of six are, I trust, with her

babe by the side, mother; and the before the throne.

Oh! how she loved them; how she prayed for them; how assured was she of their final salvation! She was indeed a precious mother as well as wife and missionary."

Thus was the Ceylon mission deprived of one of its most efficient members, and the Church of Christ of a bright ornament. It is pleasing, however, to reflect, that, since the death of this devoted female, two of her sisters have become connected, by marriage, with the same mission, and are labouring on the very spot where the remains of Mrs. Winslow are laid.

MRS. W. W. DUNCAN.

THE amiable and excellent young lady whose brief and beautiful career we are about to sketch, was born in the spring of 1814. Her father, the late Rev. Robert Lundie of Kelso, was a man of high talents, refined taste, and devoted piety. To all his children he was enthusiastically attached, but if any one of them shared more of the warmth of his generous affection than the others, it was his daughter Mary. Of kindred genius and taste, she resembled him in many of the most attractive features of his character; and between the parent and the child, therefore, there sprung up a sympathy of feeling and of sentiment which peculiarly endeared them to each other. To her latest hour, Mary was wont to cherish the memory of her father, as one of the brightest and tenderest of her recollections. There was a charm about all that she remembered he had ever said or done, and in her correspondence we find so frequent references to the happy days she had spent under the parental roof, as to show that, on the

part of both father and mother, her training, and indeed that of the whole family, had been such as to render home to the children the sweetest and the most attractive place on the earth. Without harshness or unnecessary restraint their tender hearts were early imbued with pious feelings and benevolent affections. The earliest lispings of their infant years were those of prayer to Him whose recorded promise it is, “They that seek me early shall find me ;" and accordingly we find the nurse who had assisted in rearing the happy family, thus referring to Mary's childhood: “How very exact she was in her prayers, when only a babe! She was as soon at her Lord's work as any of the worthies that I ever read of; and I often fancy I see their pretty white heads kneeling before they went to bed-the one that could not speak following the example of the others." When her education was commenced, Mary made rapid progress, and she early displayed a taste for reading. The strength of her imagination, however, was such, that the utmost care required to be exercised in regulating her habits of mind. Novels and romances were carefully excluded, and her attention was directed to lively histories from real life, to narratives drawn from Scripture, or such other works within her comprehension as were at once fitted to amuse, to interest, and to instruct.

Though constitutionally possessed of amiable dispositions and feelings, Miss Lundie does not appear to have been impressed with the importance of divine things until her seventh year, when, on recovering from a severe attack of fever, she began to reflect on the necessity of attending to those things which belonged to her eternal peace.

Her feelings at this time were not communi