which it never doth except it dye with them whom it hath supported in life.

A little before Her death, Patience, and Meekness, and low thoughts of Her Self, which had been Her practice, were now Her Argument. Discoursing frequently with one of her nearest Attendants, and seeing her, and others, passionatly concern'd, and busie about her, she willed them not to take so much pains for her, who deserved less; expostulating why any, herself especially, should at any time be angry; why any of these outward things should trouble her, who deserve so little, and had been blessed with so much? By which it might appear that she had brought into subjection all great thoughts, she had cast down imaginations, and every high thing, bringing into captivity every high thought, and submitting the World and her Soul to the Obedience of Christ; her passions were mortified and dead before her so that for three or four dayes of last sickness, (for she indured no more) she lay as if she indured nothing; she called for her Psalms, which she could not now, as she usually had done, read herself (the greatest Symptome of her extremity) she caused them to be read unto her. But that Cordial of which I have spoken (kept, in Rom. viii. and in her heart) this her memory held to the last, this she soon repeated: No doubt to secure her soul against all fear of Condemnation, being now wholly Christ's, having served Him in the spirit of her mind, and not loved to walk after the

Flesh, having (as often as she affectionatly pronounced the words of this chapter) called in the Testimony of the Spirit to bear her witness that she desired to be delivered from this Bondage of Corruption into the glorious liberty of the Children of God; and so to strengthen her Faith and Hope by other comfortable Arguments, contein'd in the rest of that chapter, being the last words of continuance, which this dying Lady spoke.

"The rest of the time, as if it had been spent in Ruminating, Digesting, and speaking inwardly to her Soul, what she utter'd with broken words, she lay quiet, and without much sign of any Perturbation; after a while, in a gentle breath, scarce perceptible, she breathed out that Soul which God had breathed into her; rendring it even to that God which gave it. So breathed her last, and quietly slept, not to be awakened again, but by the Archangel's Trumpet, when it shall call her to the Resurrection of the Just.

"Thus fell at last this goodly Building; Thus died this great wise Woman; who while she lived was the Honour of her Sex and Age, fitter for an History than a Sermon.

"Who having well considered that her last Remove, (how soon she knew not) must be to the House of Death; she built her own Apartment there; the Tomb before your eyes; against this day, on which we are all now here met to give her Reliques Livery and Seizin, quiet possession.

"And while her Dust lies silent in that Chamber of Death, the Monuments which she had built in the Hearts of all that knew her, shall speak loud in the ears of a profligate generation; and tell, that in this general Corruption, lapsed times decay, and downfal of Vertue, the thrice Illustrious Anne, Countess of Pembroke, Dorset, and Montgomery, stood immovable in her Integrity of Manners, Vertue, and Religion; was a well-built Temple for Wisdom and all her train of Vertues to reside. in; is now removed and gone to inhabit a Building of God, an House not made with Hands, eternal in the Heavens. To which blessed Mansion let us all endeavour to follow her, by treading in the steps of her Faith, Vertue and Patience; That having fought the good Fight, finished our Course, and kept the Faith, we may receive the Crown of Righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give at that day to all that love his appearing."

MARY EVELYN.

EVELYN, in his interesting diary, records the birth of a daughter, Oct. 1, 1665, in these words:

"This afternoon, whilst at evening prayers, tidings were brought me of the birth of a daughter at Wotton, after six sons, in the same chamber I had first tooke breath in, and at the first day of that month, as I was on the last, forty-five years before."

This was during the period of the great plague in London, when he had sent down his wife and children to his country place for security, and remained himself in town to attend to the duties of his office.

From time to time the tender and pious father names his Mary in his journal, evidently proud of her accomplishments and the admiration she excites. When she is seventeen, he enters in his memoranda the fact that, on the 7th February, she began to learn music of Signor Bartholomeo,

in praise of whose genius he has been very eloquent before; and also "dauncing, of Mon' Isaac, reputed the best masters."

He relates her triumphs in singing with infinite pleasure.

"I was invited to my Lord Arundel, of Wardour, where, after dinner, Mr. Pordage entertained us with his voice, that excellent and stupendous artist, Signor Jo Baptist, playing to it on the harpsichord. My daughter, Mary, being with us, she also sung, to the great satisfaction of both the masters, and a world of people of quality present. She did so also at my Lord Rochester's the evening following, where we had the French boy, so famous for his singing, and, indeed, he had a delicate voice, and had been well taught."

Amidst the dissipation, immorality, and neglect of all duties so unfortunately conspicuous at this period, it is a real pleasure to find that there existed a few superior spirits, whose example might still assure the sorrowing world that goodness and virtue had not

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Sprung on the viewless winds to Heaven again." At a time when the indulgent friend of the dissolute Charles is obliged to note down his disgust of scenes such as preceded the death of the most ungrateful and thoughtless of monarchs, to read his account of his daughter's usual occupations and habits redeems the age.