when I should come to myself that it would be terrible; but no, it is not so:  I have love for all, and I hope it will grow for all and take in all.  It is not that one love swallows up another, as one sorrow does:  yet I am very weak, and need daily help.  Oh that it may not be withheld!

With this record her Journal concludes; and, in reflecting upon it as a whole, the reader can scarcely fail to observe the evidence it gives of progress in the Divine life, of growth, as it were, from the blade to the full corn in the ear, now early ripened for the heavenly garner; and perhaps in nothing is this progress more discernible than in the manner in which through many fluctuations she was enabled to look away from the suggestions of unresting self, which were so painful to her sensitive and conscientious spirit, and to stay her mind on her Saviour, entering into that rest which the apostle says is the portion of those who believe,—­“a rest which remaineth for the people of God,” and which they only realize in its fulness who have accepted Christ as all sufficient for every need of the soul, not only pardon of past sins, but also of daily recurring transgressions, and whose trials and provings of spirit have led to the blessed result of increased oneness with their heavenly Father.

8th Mo. 21th.  To her sister F.T. she writes, the day before her marriage,—­

“I am still a wonder to myself,—­so thankful for dear mother’s cheerfulness, and for the kindness and love of all around.  I have taken leave of nearly all.  Last evening we had a nice walk.  Then for the first time I felt as if the claims of past, present, and future were perfectly and peacefully adjusted, to my great comfort.”

The walk to which this allusion refers is very fresh in the remembrance of her sister and of her (intended) husband, who accompanied her.  Her manner was strikingly calm and affectionate; and as they returned home, after a pause in the conversation, she said, taking a hand of each,—­

“I have heard of some people when they are dying feeling no struggle on going from one world to the other; and I was thinking that I felt the same between you.  I don’t know how it may be at last.”

Strangely impressive were these words at the time; and when we remember that she never saw that sister again after the morrow, can we doubt that this preparation was permitted to soften the bitterness of the time, so near at hand, when this should have proved to be the final parting on earth?

In looking back to this time, there is a sweet conviction of the peace which was then granted her, which did seem something like a foretaste of the joys of the better home which was even then opening before her and upon which her pure spirit had so loved to dwell.

She was married, at Liskeard, to William Southall, Jr., on the 28th of 8th month, 1851.  She was anxious that the wedding-day should be cheerful; and her own countenance wore a sweet expression of quiet satisfaction and seriousness; and the depth of feeling which prevailed in the whole party during that day was afterwards remembered with satisfaction, as being in harmony with what followed.