death
How our young friends are marrying away!
I wish you
could see
Mr. Stephens
excellent
letter on the marriages in his family. So much wit!
–
Mary Gisborne delighted me in hers by an honest and
frank confession of her happiness That Match was made in heaven.
But in
this chequered life all [deletion] are not rejoycing or marrying.
Our friend
George
Sandford
is coming to us to day for a few days, as soon as he
deposited the remains of a young creature his adopted daughter aged
Nineteen on whom he doated; and over whom he has watched
with fond Solicitude for a year and a half in a dropsy – She was an amiable girl and
piously inclined, but he had dragged her so much into the great and gay world, that
it impeded her progress. I hope this privation will have a good effect on his own
mind. He loves religion and religious people, but then he dearly loves the world and
after having laboured hard to make both loves agree, I trust this blow will shew him
the vanity of that attempt.
Miss Roberts s
[sic] will be good sympathizing company for him, as they are expecting to night
to hear of the death of a Niece past nineteen also, but are of the most matured
Christians I have heard of; her sweet and extraordinary piety has made a
considerable impression on her own family, and many who knew her.
How can
I write to you or how
can I forbear to write? I have however postponed it, well knowing that you want
no such consolations as I can suggest
. My sincere sympathy and my fervent prayers are all I have to
offer you. My grief is softened by the knowledge of many merciful circumstances;
one is that you are surrounded by so many enlightened and truly Christian
friends; another and the principal one, is the cheering report they all give of
the deeply submissive and resigned spirit with which you bow to this most trying
dispensation. In the midst of my sorrow
I bless God that he has
enabled you to give this evidence of your faith in him, and of the truth of
Christianity itself, which can afford such supports under such
trials
. Still my dear friend, allow me to say I fear for
you – I do not fear that your resignation will diminish, or your fortitude forsake
you – I trust that the same divine grace will continue to support your
soul; but I fear for your body, I fear that the very
elevation of your feelings will be obtained,
at the price of
your health sinking under your Efforts
. I am afraid you will think me
but a worldly counsellor when I say, I wish you not too
much to restrain your tears, or to labour to suppress emotions which
Nature dictates and which grace does not forbid. Your life is now of increased
importance, your value to your dear children is doubled. The duties of two parents
instead of one are now devolved upon you. I know these sort of arguments are
frequently made use of to stop the signs and outward expressions of
grief, but I know the make of your mind so well that I employ them with a view to
induce you not to put a /too/ violent restraint on your natural sensibilities
fearing the pent up sorrow may prey more inwardly on the heart and the health.
Some kind friend near you has sent us a line every day, but
merely of sympathy and kindness, and to say how you were. Of our dear sainted
friend we know no particulars, those they will send us I doubt not
soon
. For ourselves we shall long mourn; for
him if our imperfect vision could see things a[tear] they are, we
should do nothing but rejoy[ce] [tear] He is gone to the
resting place of the just. His life has left us an example of rare purity, of
integrity seldom equalled, of consistent piety, of charity almost boundless. I
shall reckon it among my responsibilities of the day of general Account if I am
not the better for having so long and so intimately known him.
Tho I have nothing /to say,/ and am not well
enough to say it if I had, I cannot forbear writing a line
to unite in sympathy with you, on the, I fear hopeless, state
of our dear invaluable
Henry
Thornton
*, a letter from
Mr. Wilberforce
* and another from the
Macaulays last night, leaves us little or
nothing to hope. Oh! what a chasm will his death make in the world! It will not
only be irreparable to
his broken hearted
wife
, and poor children*, but
to multitudes of the poor and the pious.
May God comfort us all,
especially his own family, and sanctify to us this heavy loss, by quickening
us in our preparation for our own great change!
For my own part,
my hopes have been long very faint, tho in opposition to the declaration of his
eminent Medical Attendants* I shall always think /
entre nous/ that corroding grief for
his unfortunate brother preyed on his
vitals, and laid his weak constitution open to any disease which might attack
it: I dread that every post may bring us the final issue
of this long disease!
I feel a little ashamed of my own impetuosity and selfishness, that in the first burst of sorrow for our lamented friend
H. Thornton* I should /mix/ any regret for my petty concerns, as they regarded my poor, with the sorrow of heart which I shared
with hundreds.
It has however given occasion to the exercise of your generous and Christian liberality,
and I thank you most cordially in the name of hundreds for your kind and seasonable
bounty.
Death has again been thinning the ranks of my beloved friends.
Mrs. Porteus
has followed
her dear Bishop, I trust to the land of everlasting rest. She was to me a faithful and attached friend
for 35 Years, and one of that sure and steady character that, in that long period,
I never experienced from her a wry word; /or a cold look. I always spent June with them./
She had been thro life the healthiest Woman I ever knew, and her fine person and sound
health gave you no idea of age.
She taken, and I spared! Such is the dispensation of infinite wisdom!
Yes my dear friend I must write a few lines,
though doubtless you are oppressed with the kindness of friends whose sympathy
shares in your sorrows without being able to mitigate
them
. Truly do I mourn with you
over this second very deep wound. Both are most mysterious – we must
adore now & we shall understand hereafter.
Mr. Stephen
&
Lord Teignmouth most feelingly communicated to me the last sad
intelligence. Written a fortnight ago!
Very pleasant were they in their
lives, & in their death they were not divided I had looked
to dear Bowdler as one of the principal stays you had to lean upon, a counsellor
& comfort to yourself & a monitor & example to your
children.
But Gods Ways are not as our Ways. Poor dear
Mary
Gisborne
* may He comfort her – no one else can
What an effort my dear
friend did you make to write me those few kind lines.
Mr. Melville
– Whom I take to be a son of
Lord Leven’s*, finished the letter in a way that has
made him Stand high in my opinion. It was written in a fine
spirit,
&
will you thank him for me
It would give you a sort of sad consolation to see how every
one who writes to me expresses themselves on the Subject of your beloved
Husband
. Sorrow
makes even
Lord Gambier eloquent.
Mr.
Dunn
who has been staying with us is always sublime
.
From men like these who could judge & feel his Merit one expected it but I was
pleased with an expression of the General feelings in more ordinary Men living in
the turmoil of trade which is apt to blunt the feelings, but whose Shop is crowded
with the first sort of Men.
I mean my
bookseller,
Cadell, who writes thus ‘The death
of your distinguished friend has excited a sensation of grief, more general
& distressing than we remember to have witnessed’
This was said of the feelings of the world at large – my other letters being from
religious men. Said no more than was expected of them.
I am
truly anxious about your health. Grace may enable you to subdue your mind but I
fear Your body will not be so submissive.
Every time you look on your
sweet children, this duty will be pressed homeward to you – in a way you will not
be
able or willing to resist. I know not yet whether you have returned to
Clapham. The events of these last three Weeks form the
Chief Subject of our conversation. I think much of you – at a time when I hope you
are not thinking of yourself – in the dead of night – for my nights are in general
bad. We have paid to our departed friend the tribute of
wearing mourning – it is nothing to the dead, but may testify to the living who
are about us, our reverence for exalted piety & virtue. Though our
friends have been very kind, they are naturally so full of their own sorrows that
it
is some time since I have heard especially of you.
I have delayed writing from day to day till it should please our gracious father to
determine the fate of our beloved
Mrs. Thornton
. That afflicting event has now taken place near a week, and yet I have not had the heart to write.
* You doubtless have been informed by
the same kind hand with myself, of the fatal progress and final termination! God’s will be done! This
we must not only say but submissively assent to under dispensations the most trying.
And surely the removal of our dear friend is a very trying as well as Mysterious dispensation. To herself the charge is most blessed. To her children the loss is most irreparable.
Poor dear Orphans! little did we think a year ago of this double bereavement! but let us bless the God and father of our Lord Jesus Christ that he enabled this
suffering friend to bear her dying testimony to his faithfulness and truth
. Never was a sweeter death than that so feelingly painted by Mr. Wilberforce How strong must have been that faith which not only lifted her so much
above all worldly considerations /but/ which enabled /her/ to commit her beloved children, about whom her anxiety had been so excessive, to
the father of the fatherless. It has pleased God to raise them, among many friends,
Mr. and
Mrs. Inglis
to whose care she consigned, and who have generously accepted the charge. They are
peculiarly fitted for the purpose, sensible, pious, amiable, strongly attached to
the Thorntons and without children of their own. Thus is the saying illustrated that
the Seed of the Righteous shall never be forsaken.* My opinion is that Mrs. T is dead of suppressed grief. She reminds me of part of an Epitaph I have seen, only changing the word day for Year
My dearest Marianne what an honour, what a privilege, to have had two such parents!
What a joy unspeakable in the midst of heart-breaking sorrow to see them bear their
dying testimony to the faithfulness and truth of God, and /enabled/ to give
such incontestable proofs of the reality of the Christian religion. –
She is now reunited to
him whom she so tenderly loved on earth, she now makes one of the
glorious Society in heaven, of the Spirits of the just made perfect.
I did indeed mourn for
Mrs.
Stephen
.
Her afflicted
husband
wrote me a delightful character of her immediately on her
death.
Nor have I sustained a lighter loss in my beloved
Mrs. Hoare
of
Mitchem.* The behaviour of
Mr. Hoare
7 is angelic. Last night had me the report of the death of my sainted friend
Mr. Whalley
. He seemed to be the nearest
heaven of any man left on earth. It is a dying world. I seem to dwell
among the tombs. Last night black gloves were brought for us for the death of our
oldest friends. we were play fellows in childhood. God has given me many warnings
and a long time for preparation may it not be in vain!
It is high time that I should thank you for your very kind, interesting, nice, long
letter.
One sentence was more peculiarly welcome, the hope you gave of setting foot on English
ground, and of gratifying me with the sight of you. How pleasant when that is realized.
Your Right Revd. Anecdotes are most painful. You may depend on my discretion. Besides committing You,
I do not love to repeat evil of dignities; especially not to biting painful truths
to the ungodly. – I sympathize with you on the death of
Lady Longford,* but rejoyce with you, in that I hear she died the death of the righteous Her saviour
I trust had been sanctified to her, and drawn her nearer to her God and Saviour. Oh! how soon will the time arrive when we shall, all (true Christians I mean) acknowledge
that our trials were among our chief mercies. In the mean time it is consolitary to
know that ‘in all our afflictions He is afflicted’. It is a dying world.
We have lately had to mourn the loss of several dear friends.
Mrs. Wm. Hoare
,* eldest Grandaughter of my dear
Lord Barham* has left Six Motherless children; producing the last was the immediate cause [unclear]
of her Son. She was a Saint indeed! I never knew a more exemplary creature. Her trials had been
great
Her husband, on whom she doated, has long been in an alarming state of low spirits, and seems
now perfectly torpid, except when any plan of benevolence awakens him.
Gerard Noel, went down to preach his Sister’s funeral Sermon; at his return he found two of his
children dead and his wife delirious!* These things shew that the peculiar Servants of the Lord are not exempt from the
common calamities of life, and that health and prosperity are no certain marks of
God’s favour. [six lines of deletions]
Time tho it has somewhat tranquilized our spirits, has not
lightened the feeling of our irreparable loss. Whether we consider the bereaved
Prince, or the Country, the calamity is
unspeakably great.* An exquisitely fond and happy, as well as a virtuous and
pious
Prince
and
Princess
sounded like a Romance, but the woeful catastrophe has brought us back to
/the sadness of/ real history.
Notwithstanding
the delightful and truly Christian letter with which
Mr. Inglis
favoured /me/
I cannot help
considering the Event as a frowning Providence. Why do we slide so much,
nationally, from our daily and hourly dependence upon God? Why were no public
prayers offered up for this sweet
Princess?
Why was the abundant harvest, a blessing as unexpected as underserved, never
acknowledged at least in our Churches? Why are our Rulers in the Church so much
less vigilant and active than those of the State? /Yet/ Why are our public
recognitions of divine Mercy, so much less frequent as well as less fervent than
those of the [firstborn?] States? I sometimes lay this flattering oration to my
Soul, that perhaps we feel more than we say, and they say more than they
feel.
If ever I
could be disposed to wish myself a Papist
it would be
immediately on the death of one in whom one has taken a warm interest. It seems
comfortless, that after one has watched over them and offered up petitions for
them, that in the moment of the greatest interest, that of their dissolution
prayer must cease, the object of your solicitation is beyond its reach, and what
was duty one moment is become unlawful the next.
Last Week we had our
Annual Bible Meeting. It was a very good one, good collection, & good speaking We had 29 Clergymen of
the Establishment.
Poor
Patty was not able to attend, but notwithstanding her bad health, we supported the good
cause by inviting about 60 to dinner and 120 to tea.
We had a good many
Clifton friends.
Lady Lifford the
Powys’s
Miss Methuen, (who looked woefully) and her brother
Tom who made a speech. I have had a very pious letter from poor Lord Edward* who feels his loss deeply, but submits to the hand which inflects [sic] it [tear]
You will have felt for poor
Made. de Staël
.* W[hat] [tear] good might she not have done with those super eminent talents! May
she have found Mercy!
Sir T. and
Lady Acland came to us last week
H[e is] [tear] a fine noble minded creature, and I hope will be an instrument of
much good.
I trust you will pardon my long delay in answering your kind letter. It has
arisen from a variety of causes;
when I received it
I was very ill of a bilious
fever
,
my two
Sisters
were confined at the same time, and we had nobody living down stairs for near
three weeks
.
I am much
better
, but still an invalid, chiefly from want of sleep.
Patty has a complaint on her
chest, and constant fever, and is forbidden to talk
, and
poor
Sally is in a deplorable
condition. The dropsy is fallen on her legs which are much in the same condition
that carried off my /last/
Sister.
All this is depressing to my
Spirits I pray God to support them and me during the short remainder of our
pilgrimage.
To that blessed inheritance, my very dear Lady Olivia is
the Son of your love, of your cares, of your fervent and accepted prayers, now admitted! He has been graciously
spared the corruptions of sinful examples, the temptations of an evil world, the multiplied
snares of high fortune, and has obtained the prize without running the hard and laborious
race. I know that it is very easy for those on whom the trial has not fallen, to talk
of the duty of resignation and to offer all the ordinary topics of comfort to the
aching heart. This is not my case, I know too well the abundant sources of true consolation
from which you have so long been deriving support /&/ which have sustained you in so wonderful a manner during your long preparation for
a calamity which you saw to be inevitable The blessed reward of this resigned Spirit,
of this prepared state of mind has not been withheld from you in the depth of your
affliction. You had the unspeakable, and to all but a Christian Mother, the inexpressible
happiness, of seeing the beloved object of your solicitude become all you could wish,
a convinced, sincere, devoted submissive Christian! I know you so well as to be assured
that when you had a full conviction of the change in his mind, from that moment the
bitterness of death was past. The joy must have been more compleat from its being
gradual. Such a progressive change is in my opinion generally more deep and rooted
from its being a progressive work. What a blessedness to know that when your own summons
comes – (May that day be distant!) you will be reunited, for ‘
them which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.’
I spare myself entering on the details of
her four dying days – They were exquisitely painful;
but
blessed be God, the trial was not long, and every interval of
reason exhibited. the strength of her faith and the resignation of her
Soul
* – She cast herself entirely on the mercies of God, and the
merits of a crucified Saviour. I believe never was an obscure individual more
generally lamented – this is only gratifying as it bears such a testimony to her
worth. The kindness of the good is very soothing, but real consolation must come
from a higher source.
My health improves a little, but I still chiefly confine myself to my chamber for
a pretence to avoid an influx of company.
In my room I receive my particular friends.
Yesterday
Lady Lilford and her excellent daughters came.*
Miss Emily spoke with delight of her visit to Brampton –
Dear
Lewis Way made me a long visit. He was delightfully entertaining with his Imperial communications
,* his sanguine, not hopes, but certainties, of the near approach of the last days.
While he is talking in his heaven /ly/ anticipations, sanguine as he is, one cannot help adopting his views, and hoping
as he hopes. He has preached twenty Sermons and Speeches within a week or two!! At
Bristol my friends say he was almost superhuman.* He kindly pressed me to go and spend the Winter at
Stanstead,* as
Mr. Harford
has done to pass it at
Blaise Castle – but
for old age sickness and sorrow there is nothing like home – Every paper I open of
my blessed Sister raises my ideas of her piety.* It is plain that she had expected her great change, for in her Pocketbook for this
year,* she writes, 'this is the last account book I shall ever want'! she also says, – 'May
every Year’s charities increase as becomes a Christian woman'! A few hours before
her death when in exqui[site] [tear] pain, she said, on some one pitying her – [tear]
I love my sufferings, they come from the [tear] and I love every thing that comes
from him’. In her delirium she was always giving away cloaths or Shoes to poor Men
and Women; tho this was in her wanderings, it showed the habit of her mind. I never
knew a more devoted self denying creature.
I will not touch on the many painful topics which have lately occurred – I rejoyce
to find however that tho his loss can never be supplied, dear
Owen’s family are left in comfortable circumstances. I had feared the contrary. –
Mr. Macaulay
has lent me
his valuable Wife for a short time in the absence of
my other friend. She leaves me to morrow.
I have always some inmate to receive my company below, write my letters and carry
on the family devotions, and read to me
Poor
Owen!* what a chasm has he made! I hear his successor is very promising, but he united so many talents! What a strange match in his family! I inclose a little extemporaneous
effusion for dear
Lady Mandeville; not that she stands in need of a flapper on that Subject, but because I would recall
myself to her recollection. I had many little things I wished to say, but must defer
them. Adieu! my dearest Lady Olivia
I truly sympathize with you on the affecting loss you have
Sustained on the death of my old friend your excellent
Mother. Her great /piety/ however and her exemplary
life afford a consolation to her surviving Family of the most soothing kind. She
had indeed from her early life devoted herself to her God and Saviour I remember
/her/ total submission to the divine /will/ upon the
greatest bereavement she could sustain in this life. I
never can forget your incomparable father, either in his delightful Society
at Oxford,* or on his dying bed at Bath, which I daily attended, and at the
closing Scene took away his mourning widow to our house.* She
edified us by her patience in sorrow inexpressible. The great age to which her
life has been prolonged* is a very reconciling circumstance to you in losing her
From the former state of her health you could not have calculated on
keeping her so long
. How timid and delicate she once
was!
As for me it has pleased infinite Wisdom to take from me all the companions of
my early and middle life, and to leeve [sic] me to finish my journey alone. It
is remarkable that I, the youngest but one, and the most unhealthy of my whole
family sh[o]uld survive them all.
My sufferings have been great, but
my mercies have been far greater. It is two years and a half since I have been
down stairs, and four Years since I have been in any other house; but tho I
still continue liable to frequent attacks of fever, I am on on the whole far
more recovered than it was thought I ever could be.
I see my friends in the morning and enjoy their
Society
. At my time of life and with my battered constitution I cannot
last long; but I am in the best hands, and I have long prayed to have no will of my
own
How shall I sufficiently thank you for your very great kindness in sending me such
a bountiful supply. I had not reckoned on so large a Sum, and it will set me at ease
as to some excesses into which I have been almost irresistibly drawn.
I must /have/ contracted some of my concerns if I were younger; but never reckoning upon another year I do not think it right to distrust Providence by
abridging my little Schemes – Little indeed compared to the ample extent of Yours. Only think of the graciousness
of God to give you the heart as well as the means to educate, and thus rescue from ignorance, and as far as human exertion can go,
from Sin, every child in your Parish! under your own immediate /Eye/ too! Oh The Magnitude of the good cannot be estimated. But oh to anticipate those cheering
words
Well done good and faithful Servant, enter Thou into the joy of the Lord!*
If I were not on the very verge of Eternity, I should earnestly request (what I dare
not now give you the trouble) for a copy of your plans, as I know all yours are will
digested; but
I shall never again visit my schools (which are unfortunately at a distance)
* Yet
my young /Friend/ does what she can, and visits them when the weather permits, and I should be gratified
to furnish her with any instructions of yours.
Her heart is much in the business. She has a cultivated & pious Mind
The inclosed trifle is not worth sending, but as they are the last rhymes I shall ever scribble I send them. They were made for the Album of an idle young lady.
*
I am in your /debt/ for two letters, on topics
most essentially different, but each deeply excellent and interesting in its
way. That which contained the Saints
Journal* /of/ the first week in
May /was/ not only delightful to myself
but was a treat conferred on as
many of my numberless visitors as I thought worthy of such a
banquet
. The last, Alas! what shall I say to the last? Dear
tormented
Charmile!*
I have cordially joined in the heartach of the mourning
family. She was not only the favorite but the idol of so many who were able to
appreciate her talents, her principles and her various powers of pleasing. The
wounds of her doating brothers* and
husband*
will not soon be healed, I am glad I saw the latter when he came to fetch his
incomparable Wife. It is a painful pleasure that she so lately spent a fortnight
with me after a separation of so many years. Poor dear little
Emily*. I assure /you/ I was not the only one who
shed tears at her remarks. Poor dear Child! she was always writing Sermons or
Verses at me when she was here. I do not stand in need of the Memento on the
Table before me, but I am glad I admired her work basket which she gave me, and
when I want /it/ I always say fetch me my Charmile!
I rejoyce that my excellent friend the
Bishop of Lichfield is just arrived at his
Deanery at Wells, and that for a short time is once more my neighbour.
Lichfield is such a sad distance! I wish we had twenty four such Prelates I am sure you mourned for the
Bp of Calcutta.
Lest
our excellent Bishop should have left
Sidmouth (which I hope he has found a salutary rest from his labours) I write strait to you.
My reason for writing so soon is that you would naturally conclude
Mr. Wilberforce
would have been here and consequently you would expect to know somewhat of the result.
But mark this fresh instance of the uncertainty of all human things!
He had fixed the day of his coming to which we were looking forward with that pleasure
which his presence never fails to give.
But the day before yesterday when we were looking out for him from
Bath, arrives instead of himself a letter dated
Sunning Hill,* to which place he had been travelling nearly all night in order to take the last farewell
of his beloved Sister
Mrs. Stephen
!* She had been long declining but there was no reason to expect she was so near her
end. Her most tender and affectionate
husband implored Mr. W– to come to her, but it was too late, she expired while he was on the road.
Worn out as she was with suffering and disease nothing could surpass the affection
of Mr. Stephen, his grief is proportionally great.
For my own part it is a new rent made in my friendships. For thirty years there has
been subsisted between us the most entire and cordial friendship. /Tho/ Always sickly and very nervous, she had a great flow of wit and humour with strong
reasoning powers. Her delight was to hold a religious debate with
Dean Milner.* But tho fond of arguing, she was one of the humblest Christians I ever knew. Humility
and self distrust were indeed distinguishing features in her character. She had for
many years conquered entirely her love of the world, and spent a large portion of
her time in religious exercises. She was often tormented with doubts of her own state
when I should have been glad to have stood in her Shoes.
I have been in much care for a most amiable friend.
Mr. Dunne
, of whom you must have heard
Knox speak as one of the brightest ornaments of the
Irish Church. He is indeed a Gem of the first water –
His lungs being weak
He was sent away from his pulpit for a year.
His most excellent wife was in good health, but
near her time.9 She passed her confinement very happily at
Clifton
long after which she was seized with a fever of the most afflicting kind –
She who came over well is dead,
/he/ who was ill is recovered!
– His loss is inexpressible, so
is his piety –
Mr. Le Touche
wrote instantly to me to get him here, I was
thankful I had had the thought, and /had/ written to him to come instantly
– He came but his relations being arrived he could not stay – I never saw so heroic
a Sufferer – He does indeed glorify God by his behaviour. She was a woman of
uncommon Merit, and [a] [tear] woman of fashion. He says her whole life was employd
in leading him to heaven – Remember us all kindly to your friends
Mrs. Waldegrave
by the desire of my dear
Lady W. just before her death announced to me
her departure. Her dying behaviour was most exemplary. She
lived to see her offending, would I might say her penitent
son. She is thro much, very much turbulation endured
unto the kingdom of heaven. I never witnessed such a life of trials. They have
been sanctified to her. I feel much for her death tho I cannot regret it. It
closes for ever my connexion with Strawberry hill.* There is no family in
so many branches of which I have found such zealous friends.
Lady W herself, her Sister
Lady
Easton
, her Mother
the Duchess of
Gloucester
, her Uncle
Lord Orford,
all were singularly attached to me /and my constant correspondents/ I have seen them
all go down to the grave – for one
Alas! the
brightest of the band* I have not ceased to mourn, not on account of his death
but his unhappy prejudices against religion, tho they never appeared either in
his conversation or letters to me.
I am happy to be enabled (thro’ Divine Mercy) to say that this dear venerable Friend
enjoys a greater share of health than was perhaps at any former period of her life
allotted to her, & altho’ her memory visibly & almost daily declines, yet her sweet
& kind affections, her placidity, her desire to make all around her happy, & her readiness,
nay eagerness to distribute for every pious & benevolent purpose, remains in fuller
vigour than ever, & render the mild lustre of her setting Sun most lovely & attractive:
&
your Ladyship will be happy to hear, that at times when she has thought herself about
to be called to her Heavenly Rest, she has expressed her entire willingness to depart,
& her fine & sure hope of Salvation thro’ the alone merits of her Redeemer
–
