“ANTIGUA, August 21, 1773.

“MY DEAREST PAPA—­The heart-rending tidings of my dear, my tender, my affectionate mother’s death reached me yesterday.  I am so distressed that I can scarcely write, and no wonder, for never was there such a mother.  My loss is indeed great; but O, my dear, my afflicted father, how my heart bleeds for you.  Father of mercies, support my aged parent, and enable him to place his hopes of happiness beyond this transitory world, and to follow the footsteps of the dear departed saint till he joins her in glory, never, never more to be separated.

“My dearest father, we may indeed mourn for ourselves; but she is happy—­that is beyond all doubt.  Her delight was with God while she was here; her closet was a Bethel; her Bible was her heart’s treasure, and His people were her loved companions.  She has now joined the innumerable company above, where she continues the same services without human frailty, and the enjoyment heightened beyond our highest conceptions.

“O then, my dear father, be comforted; let us now try to follow her; let her Saviour now be ours, and then shall we be blest with like consolations.

“My dearest father, I cannot tell you how much I feel for you; my tears will not allow me, they flow so fast that I cannot write; what would I give to be with you.  But these are vain words.

“The doctor, however, fully expects that next summer will bring him leave to go home; then, I trust, we shall be in some fixed place of abode, and, my dear papa, you will come and live with us.  I shall feel it to be a privilege beyond what I can tell, to perform every service you stand in need of, soothe your pains and comfort you under the infirmities of old age.

“My dear, my worthy brother—­how has that tender letter, and the noble resolution he has taken, endeared him to me.  It is certainly his indispensable duty to stay with you in your present solitary situation; such a dutiful, affectionate son must be a great comfort to you, and he will not lose his reward.

“I am anxious, my dearest father, to know the particulars of my mother’s death:  who attended her in her illness? was the nurse who was with her a good woman? was she sensible? did she expect death? and did she mention me, and leave me her blessing?  My dear, dear father, tell me all.

“Farewell, my beloved father; may your God and Redeemer be your support and final portion, is the prayer of your affectionate daughter,

“I.  GRAHAM.”

In her grief for the loss of her inestimable mother, Dr. Graham had said to her that “God might perhaps call her to a severer trial by taking her husband also,” and the warning appeared prophetic; but her own words best describe the emotions of her bleeding heart.

To Miss Margaret Graham, Glasgow.