There is no austerity in its piety, no levity in its gladness. It shows that "virtue in herself is lovely," but if "goodness" is ever "awful," it is not here in the company of this young happy Christian heart.

We have heard sometimes that a strictly religious education has a tendency to restrict the intellectual growth of the young, and to mar its grace and freedom. We have been told that it was not well that our sons and daughters should commit to memory texts and catechisms, lest the free play of their fancy should be checked, and they be rendered mechanical and constrained in their demeanor, and dwarfish in their intellectual stature. We see nothing of this exemplified in this memoir. One may look long to find an instance of more lady-like and graceful accomplishment, of more true refinement, of more liberal and varied cultivation, of more thorough mental discipline, of more pliable and available information, of a more winning and wise adaptation to persons and times and places, than the one presented in these pages. And yet this fair flower grew in a cleft of rugged Calvinism; the gales which fanned it were of that "wind of doctrine" called rigid orthodoxy. We know the soil in which it had its root. We know the spirit of the teachings which distilled upon it like the dew. The tones of that pulpit still linger in our ears, familiar as those of that good old bell, and we are sure that there

"Our new and deep-toned bell rings this day for the first time, calling us to that church we love so well. I shall love this I know, though 'tis not the bell of my childhood. That good old bell! connected as it was with so many of the happiest seasons of my life-whose tones were the familiar ones of my earliest moments; could I help loving it? My father says, I shall not hear that bell in Smyrna. No, its tones will not reach me there. There will come a time, when I shall no more go up to that sanctuary, which has been my Sabbath home from

is no pulpit in all New England more uncompromising in its demands, more strictly and severely searching in its doctrines.

But let us look more closely at the events of this history of a life, and note their effect in passing, upon the character of its subject.

Mary, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Hawes, of Hartford, Conn., was born in 1821. The death of a sister a little older, and of two brothers younger than herself, left her the only daughter, and for some time the only child of the family. Her father says of her :

"It is a very pleasant remembrance to her parents, that from her earliest years she was a peculiarly affectionate and dutiful child. Her tender mind opened itself in docility and love; and like a fresh flower of spring, shed forth the fragrance of its affections upon all around. To know the desires of her father, or mother, was enough to engage a prompt and cheerful obedience. She was early taught that she was a sinner, and needed the renewing grace of God to fit her for his service and kingdom; and from the time she was eight years of age, she was the subject of more than usually deep religious impressions. She felt that her heart was not right with God; that she needed what every human being, however young, and howgiven her by the Holy Spirit. ever amiable, needs, a new heart to be

"On entering her tenth year, there was a marked change in her feelings. The scene was one never to be forgotten, either by herself or her parents. It was noticed, that, for some days, her mind was the subject of intense and serious thought. Occasionally the unbidden tear would be seen trembling in the eye, or

my earliest years; when I shall no more join in its holy services. But I am not cast down; through my tears, I can look to a more glorious temple above, where God and the Lamb forever dwell. No, no; this dear place of worship, that has nurtured many plants of piety, will be called mine no more, when I depart from the home of my youth; but if I humbly walk in the ways of piety, and lean upon Jesus for strength, may I not hope that he will go with me in all my wanderings, make me bold and faithful in his service, and that he will cause the truths which I have here heard, to spring up in my heart, and bear fruit forever."-p. 147.

stealing down the cheek, till, one evening, having spent some time in retirement, she was heard singing in a low, sweet voice, when on opening the door of her room, her delightful exclamation was, Oh, I am so happy; I have found God; I am so happy; I can pray now.' She had knelt, as at other times, with a burdened heart, and under a sense of separation from God, and he had met her and had blessed her. To use her own language; it seemed like speaking to a dear, kind friend; God seemed near to me; and I felt that he heard me.' From that time she gave us every pleasant evidence of being a child of God. Her youthful piety did not, as it often does, pass away like a morning cloud. It was a plant of celestial origin. It was rooted deep in the heart, and it grew and brought forth increasing fruit to God till the end of her life."-pp. 361, 362.

The following scene, which be longs to this period, or a little earlier in her childhood, has hardly a parallel for beauty and true pathos.

"A little previous to the death of this brother, an incident occurred which drew out her strong powers of sympathy, and very strikingly illustrated her forgetfulness of self, when she saw others in affliction, and also her very felicitous manner of imparting consolation. The disease had assumed a very alarming form, and the little sufferer was rent with convulsions, which it required no ordinary share of fortitude only to witness. The poor father, unable longer to endure the sight, turned away from the bed, and sought his room. Mary followed him. He threw himself upon the sofa, exclaim

ing, I can't bear it, I can't bear it ;' and he seemed to be struggling with emotions too painful to be borne. He had already

been bereaved of three children, and now a fourth was about to be taken, and in a very distressing manner. He again exclaimed, The hand of God is upon me; I don't know but I am to be written childless. Mary drew her seat closer to his, and laying her hand gently on his knee to gain his attention, she looked up in his face and said, ' Father, you told us that God always had a good reason for every thing he did. And has he not a good reason now? and is it not right for him to make my little brother suffer so?' Finding her arguments unavailing as she supposed, to soothe him, because that now he wept more freely, she took down from the shelf a hymn-book, and opening it, said, 'Dear father, let me comfort you, let me read a hymn to you, shall I? The father's heart was too full to speak, and she opened to that very appropriate hymn of Doddridge, commencing,

'Peace, 'tis the Lord Jehovah's hand'— When she came to the verse,

'Fair garlands of immortal bliss
He weaves for every brow,
And shall rebellious passions rise
When he corrects us now?"

Her countenance shone as if a beam from heaven had shed its light there, and her voice and manner were such as seemed better befitting an angel than a frail child. A relative of the family had followed Mary and her father to the study, and had been a silent, but almost unnoticed observer of the whole; so absorbed was the father in his grief, and Mary in her attempts to soothe him. She said the scene was more touching, on account of the state of Mary at the time, who having just risen from a sick bed, was still weak and pale. She seemed also to be overwhelmed with the consciousness of her little brother's sufferings, to whom she was tenderly attached, and to feel that she must not now lay her bursting heart upon her father's bosom, for he needed comfort and support himself. In the trying emergency, she looked away from human sympathy, and sought in God something which might meet the painful circumstances of the intentionally, taught a lesson of submiscase; and she thus, meekly, though unsion to his perfect will.

"Her father, in speaking of it afterfore been so dealt with;' that she talkwards, remarked, that he had never beed like an experienced Christian.'"pp. 20-22.

Following her course as she advanced in youth, we are no where surprised at the development of any remarkable powers of mind. She was prayerful and conscientious, diligent in acquiring knowledge, enthusiastic in her love of nature, evincing in everything a refined and feminine taste, and a quick perception of the beautiful in art, in But the literature, and in morals.

charm of her character lay in her warmth of heart. Love was the element in which she lived. She loved God-she loved her parents— she loved her companions-she loved every body. It was the exuberant, gushing love of childhood, exalted by the influences of true piety. She seems never to have known what it was to be repelled by a sense of weakness or unworthiness in another, or to have had any

of those dislikes and distastes and unchristian aversions, which keep so many of us apart. She had no need to "unlearn contempt." This was partly the result of natural temperament, but not all. Such love is a Christian grace. He that "hath" it, has it because he "dwelleth in God and God in him." It is the charity which Paul inculcated; that which "thinketh no evil," which "hopeth" and "believeth all things." It has its root in humility; it grows only by the uprooting of self. He who would cultivate it, must follow the injunction to "let nothing be done through strife or vain-glory, but in lowliness of heart esteem others better than himself." As Jesus took a little child and set him in the midst to teach his disciples, so would we place this young Christian woman in the assemblies of some who

But let no one suppose that there was any weakness or want of just discrimination in the subject of this memoir. It is true that the gentler elements predominated in her character, and her father probably knew what she needed, when he gave her the playful advice to "have more of Cato." Without Christian principle, she might have been a victim of morbid sensitiveness, or ever at the mercy of fluctuating impulses; but religion supplied the tonic she needed, and by the grace of God, aiding her own efforts, we see her possess ed of firmness of purpose and moral courage enough to rebuke many of us who are made of sterner stuff.

Mary (we borrow the pleasant name by which her mother calls her,) seems to have passed through two eras in her mental history. One was the sudden expansion of her intellectual and social nature. She speaks of a winter passed in the family of the Rev. Dr. Fitch of New Haven, under the immediate

influence of his lamented lady, as one in which she seemed to have lived a lifetime, so many new thoughts and feelings had been awakened, and her views of life were all so changed. The folded bud, fully prepared, was brought into a peculiarly favorable position, and burst at once into full flower.

The other was an equally marked advancement of her religious views during the revival of 1841 in Hartford. This was no transient impulse, but continued to brighten with new luster the remainder of her course. To illustrate this change, we place the following extract from a letter to an intimate friend, beside some passages taken from her subsequent journal and letters:

"Dear C., the foundations of my soul, seem all breaking away. I never felt so entirely adrift in the universe, without compass or anchor, as I do at present. All that I thought firmly fixed in my heart is gone, and I shrink from the year, as bringing only new helplessness at a time when I need all my energies. Forgive me, my dear friend, for troubling you with these things. A letter on the eve of another great period which marks should be full of hope-of encourage off the time of frail, perishing mortals, ment; and forgetting the past, should look towards the glorious future-the coming existence, when the strife with

evil shall have ended. But thus I am

little able to write now. The few longings I have ever had for the strife, seem all quenched. If I thought this state of Perhaps I have fallen into some slough mind was to last, I should be miserable. of despond,' but if so, it must be a very

different one from Christian's, for there

appears no helping hand. I am not jestmyself in a melancholy dream; but a ing, my dear C., neither am I indulging

conviction of what I am, and my utter inability to be any better, has so weighed upon me lately, as to drive almost every thing else from my mind. Do you know what I can do? If you have any talisman to still the unquiet beatings of my heart, send it to me I pray you.

"Why am I so selfish as to write thus to you? I am sure I did not sit down to the unmerciful task of making you ac quainted with my utter destitution, but it was with the laudable intention of wishthe consciousness of a daily increase in ing you a happy new year,'-happy in all that is worthy of an immortal and re

deemed soul. O, my friend, press on that glorious path with renewed ardor. Our Savior has marked the way, and will ever be near, to guide and strengthen, and to bring you safe to the hills of light. I dare not think of those everlasting hills. It blinds my eyes with tears; for the long, weary path, full of difficulties, snares, temptations, corruptions, comes into my view, and fills me with gloomy forebodings. It does not seem as though I can ever get over them. Evil habits so fixed in the deepest recesses of the heart -love of the world, with its poor perishing trifles, dragging the spirit down to earth. Will they drag it down forever? Can no one break the strong fetters? But this does not sound very much like the words of a believer in all the promises so glorious and precious, written on every page of God's holy word. The very fact that I am a believer in them, makes me still sadder, for if I believed rightly, I should have no more discouragements."-pp. 67, 68.

There is a delightful work going on in our city, of which I have been longing to tell you; for many you knew and loved are hoping in Christ. It is nearly two months since the commencement of the revival, which has been mostly among the young people. The way had sometime been preparing for this, when Mr. K. came and spent one month here, preaching every afternoon to professors of religion, and in the evening to others, particularly to those who were not Christians.

"The remembrance of those seasons is like a green spot in this desert world. We came forth from our dark places, and stood in the light of the sun of righteousness; we cast off our garments of mourning, and put on the garments of praise, and already the glory from the celestial city seemed beaming down upon us. It seems to us now, as though we can never go back to the troubled streams of this world, having tasted of the streams which flow from the throne of God and the Lamb."-pp. 72, 73.

"Never did I feel my heart leap in joy as it does this morning. Oh, M., is it not delightful to live in the service of so good a being as our reconciled Father in Christ? Is it not good to yield all to his blessed control, and know no will but his? Surely there is more blessedness in doing his will, than in anything else that this life can yield us. If the few scattering joys which have entered our benighted hearts here, make us so happy, what must the full glory of that life be, where no sin can obstruct the gushings of peace and joy. I write unconnectedly, dear M., for my heart is so full I can not give expression to what I would say. I never thought that I could be so peaceful in the service of God, nor have such a sweet,

tranquil frame of mind, as I have enjoyed for a few days past. Now I give up every doubt and fear, and trusting only in my Savior, am willing I humbly hope, to do all he appoints. Dear M., I did not mean to occupy this note with my own feelings, but they would come out. Oh, to sing praises to our Savior! He who has redeemed us from our sins, and given to us the hope of eternal life!"-p. 90.

"I have a peace this summer such as I never felt before. There are indeed many things without, which do try me not a little. It is a very eventful season, and will, in all probability, decide the destiny of my life. These passing events bring with them many perplexities and trials, which would weigh me down, if I could not look to God and say, 'Thy will be done.' I am pondering many things, and there is a ceaseless rush of thought, which sometimes makes my brain almost wild. And then I have so many duties, that my time is more than occupied-and I have sin and selfishness to subdue within, for my heart is revealing its dreadful corruptions--and I have friends to pray for, whose condition weighs on my spirit--but in the midst of it all, I think I can trust in God, and leave all with him.

"I do hope that I live to do his holy will. It is my desire ever to wait on him as Father, Savior and Sanctifier-to take every duty as it comes up before me, with an earnest desire to do God's will in it-to bear every trial, and enjoy every blessing, in such a manner as will fit me for the other world, whenever God may see fit to call me from this."-pp. 97, 98.

"I felt free and happy as a bird. I blessed my Father in Heaven for the beauty there is in our fair earth, and holy thoughts of his love came floating into my mind. I was not troubled with vanity as I had formerly been on such occasions; and yet I feel almost afraid to say so, for I know the same selfish feelings remain, yet they do not give me so much trouble, nor occasion, as they once did, such a ceaseless inquietude within. I know that if I do God's will, that is all that is of importance to me."-p. 102.

"Sabbath noon. I have just returned from a sweet season, for which my heart blesses God, my Savior. Oh, these are refreshing seasons in our pilgrimage. They come as gleams to our path even now, though far from our Father's home. He sends his love to us, and here in this lower world, we may sing the songs of the redeemed. * * How sweet, how joyful, to rest my all on Jesus, to lean on him, and know no fear! Here I can praise him only faintly. In that day when this mortal robe is cast aside, I will raise my voice in a ceaseless song of grat

itude, unto Him who hath loved us, and given himself to die for us.'"-pp. 106, 107.

"I have had sweet thoughts of Jesus and his faithful love. So great! It is wonderful and I so poor and vile! The least thought makes my eyes overflow, for I am weak. I am happy and trusting to night. When I look inward, all is indeed very dark and sinful, but I look away to Christ and all is bright, and I pray for my precious ones, and for this whole world, that Jesus may reign."p. 121.

Probably the decision to which she had now come, to forsake all that was so dear to her, and devote her life to missionary labor, as seemed clearly to be her duty by the leadings of Providence, had much to do with the peace of mind which marks the whole of her history thenceforward; but it is beautiful to contemplate it, and learn with what happiness child-like obedience can fill the Christian heart. The following record of her feelings during severe illness, is too beautiful to be omitted. It takes us into the green pastures and beside the still waters where the good Shepherd feeds his flock :

"I have been brought to the borders of the grave, from which it has pleased God to raise me, so that now I am fast recovering. I have been down stairs for a little while, and have touched again my dear piano. But I am still very weak, and sit in my easy chair very quietly, reading some, and sewing some, but thinking most of the time. And oh, I thank God for the sweet thoughts he grants me.

"I can look back on the whole scene, and view it only in the light of a blessing. I had very little suffering, principally weakness; but I was so ill, that my parents gave up all hope, and my physicians felt there was scarcely a chance for my recovery. And yet, through the whole my mind was clear. I knew all which was going on around me, felt my danger, and thought that I should die. It pleased God to give me great calmness, without which it would have been impossible for my disease to have been checked; for excitement was the thing most feared. I left the event entirely in my Savior's hand. I trusted all to him, and knew that if it was his will, I should recover; if not, I trusted he would not leave me at the last. It is a

miracle that I am spared. I am filled with wonder! I can only say, 'Lord,

this life I devote all to thee.'

"In this room I have passed, and am passing, some most delightful days. I can not think of the kindness of all my friends, without the greatest wonder. It makes me very humble. I have had one overflowing stream of blessings, ever since the commencement of my illness. All my wants have been anticipated. The kindest friends have been around my bed side-the best care has been ta ken of me. Every thing that love could devise, has been done. My dear Mrs. Fitch came all the way from New Haven, and took care of me a night and a day. Oh, my cup has been full of blessings! The loveliest flowers have bloomed on my table, and the choicest fruits, since I began to recover, have been before me. But this is not the half.

"It has pleased my Heavenly Father to give me a more happy and peaceful spirit, than I have ever before enjoyed. I have the sweetest verses and hymns in my memory, and my communings on my bed, have been most precious. The dark valley of death, looks not near so dark, since I have been so near it, and

heaven seems near all the time.

"I have yet many sins over which to mourn, but it seems as though my Sav ior permits me to lay my head on his bosom, and weep over them there, and supplicate grace and pardon for myself and all my dear friends. I love my friends and every body, and every thing, ten thousand times more than I did before. The sun never shone so brightly, nor the moon so peacefully; and yet I love God, and Jesus, and heaven as much better. The Bible never seemed half so precious. I can only look to God, and pray him to keep me close under the shadow of his wing, since it seems his will I should live a little longer here. I think this is one of the lessons I needed to learn before entering on my labors in a distant land. Of these I think much. And I have sweet thoughts of my absent friend. thought of him when I supposed myself dying, and did wish to see him; but I can trust that all to my Father's care and keeping."-pp. 122–124,

Not to dwell too long on this part of her history, to us the most beautiful, which shows her to us the graceful ornament of her home, and the active sharer in every good work in her father's congregation, we pass to the period of her delike to illustrate by copious extracts, parture from home. We should the thorough preparation she was