love of harmony, even when, he had lost the power to create it.  It is well known that he delighted to hear the men and women each take their proper part in congregational singing; but it seems in this instance, the men in the warmth of their feelings had transgressed the limits assigned them.  Mr. W., whose ear was offended by the slightest discord, somewhat sharply rebuked them.  As this failed to produce the desired amendment, he stopped again, and said, “Listen to brother Masterman,” who was at that time the leading singer.  Still dissatisfied, he stopped a third time, and said, “Listen to me,” at the same time taking up the strain, but as his voice was cracked, and broken with age, it afforded such a miserable example as to excite a general titter.

As a child Mary was distinguished by unusual vivacity of disposition, and her fondness for fun and frolic often betrayed her into trouble.  At times she was wilful and passionate,—­a spirit wisely checked by her mother, whose discipline was equally strict and judicious.  Such ebullitions were transient, and invariably followed by feelings of regret and sorrow.  Adverting to this subject in after life she said with deep gratitude, “I had a good mother and father to keep me in, and restraining grace.”  On several occasions her life was placed in imminent peril, and, but for that merciful providence, which specially watches over the “little ones,” she must have fallen a victim to her thoughtlessness.  One of these occurred when she was at school; where, by some means her dress caught fire; happily the smoke and smell of burning attracted the attention of her teacher who rushed to her rescue, and succeeded in extinguishing the flames, but not until her outer garments were completely consumed.  Her education was very slender, being confined to the simplest rudiments of human knowledge,—­a circumstance she often regretted, although in after life the disadvantage was in a great measure overcome by diligent and select reading.

When about eight years of age, the development of her early religious feelings received a partial check through the pernicious influence of a servant girl, who perceiving her love for singing, taught her, without the knowledge of her parents, a number of foolish songs.  Two years later she gave decided indications of serious thought.  She began to take pleasure in being alone, and acquired a remarkable love of solitude, which characterized her through life,—­a feeling which was strengthened by reading an article in one of the early “Arminian Magazines.”  Sometimes she would steal off to the cottage of a pious old churchwoman of the name of Halifax, who lived at a short distance from her father’s house; and listened with delight, while the good old lady read to her out of the Psalms, and talked about heavenly things.  On one of these occasions she was so deeply affected by a sense of her sinfulness and accountability, that pointing to the cat which lay by the fireside,