gave of the past, there was one link in the chain of circumstances which could not fail to arrest my attention and awaken my interest. I allude to the instrument and the occasion of the conversion of himself and his beloved partner in life to God. And who was that instrument, and what was that occasion? Let parents listen to it, let children ponder it-it was the early piety, and the happy departure of an only and a fondly-loved child. Moved by this touching fact, and impressed with this remarkable display of Divine grace in the camp, I requested, and obtained, permission to weave in a brief Memoir, the particulars of her short but holy life, with the hope that the Lord the Spirit might again, though dead, speak by her to some hitherto thoughtless, Christless souls.

ELIZABETH TATTON was the only child of Major and Mrs Tatton of the 47th Regiment of Foot, but subsequently of the 77th Foot. Born and educated in the army-a school which, for its worldly and unsettled habits, has not generally been regarded as the most favourable for the training of a youthful mind, and for the formation of those sober views of the realities of the present life, and of the claims of the "life which is to come," so essential to individual happiness-she yet from earliest childhood exhibited a strength of character, a force of intellect, and a maturity of judgment, united with a refinement of feeling, a sweetness

of disposition, and a winning gentleness of manner, which rendered her, in a measure, superior to the unfavourable influences of her position, and which threw around her a dignity and an attraction, which at once commanded the respect and won the affection of all who knew her.

But the wonder and the charm of her early years was the extraordinary piety which marked and sanctified them. This was both her armour and her ornament. The precise period at which Divine grace took possession of her heart, and the human agency, if indeed any were employed, by which this grace effected its conquest in the soul, it would seem impossible to define. But with the first dawn of intelligence, and with the first expansion of feeling, both the judgment and the heart would appear to have been taken captive by its silent yet resistless power. The child of parents yet unconverted, moving in a circle the centre of which was the world, and compelled to be a spectator of, and sometimes a participator in, scenes sadly dissipative of all religious feeling, she yet exhibited an early development of Christianity, in some of its strongest and most interesting features, which excited the wonder, while it could not fail to secure the respect, of all around her.

An incident in her history when but two years of age, will illustrate the especial care with which the providence of God watched over this dear child of His love-its relation may likewise serve as a cautionary

hint to mothers. The hall-door being left open one day, a strolling beggar-woman presented herself with a view of soliciting charity. Elizabeth, whose natural disposition was remarkably benevolent-for she was often known to part with all her pence to objects of charity ran to the door, and gave her a penny. Observing the child young and unprotected, the woman, with the promise of supplying her bountifully with oranges, seized upon the unsuspecting little creature, and folding her beneath her cloak, bore her quickly away. Elizabeth was soon missed from the side of her watchful mother, and an anxious but fruitless search was made for her in the house and gardens. On the loss becoming known, information was brought that a wandering mendicant was seen rapidly passing through the town with a respectable dressed child in her arms. Pursuit was instantly made; and on finding herself discovered, the wretched woman dropped her prey, and fled. Justice, however, soon overtook her, for she was immediately afterwards committed to gaol for the commission of a similar crime. The reader, especially if a mother, may form some idea of the joy of her parents when their lost child was once more restored to their fond embrace. Simple as this incident may appear, does it not in some degree illustrate the holy joy which the recovery of a lost sinner creates in the minds of pure and heavenly intelligences? What joy must fill the Father's mind, what satisfaction the Sav

iour's soul, what gladness the Spirit's heart, what ecstasy the bosoms of angels and glorified spirits, and what new-born melody all heaven itself when a sinner is brought to repentance and faith, when a soul is converted and saved, when the "prey is taken from the mighty," and Christ has won another captive! "It was meet that we should make merry and be glad,” exclaims the joyful father, "for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost and is found.”† Oh, who would not thus be an object of joy to the hearts of saints and of angels, of Christ and of God! And yet if thou, my reader, art a sinner saved by grace, if the tear of godly sorrow for sin has ever stood in thine eye, if thou hast been brought to the great trust of a poor sinner,-even a crucified Saviour,-thou hast filled heaven with more gladness than when all the sons of God sang together over this world's new-born creation. Ah! and ten thousand worlds like this.

"Who can describe the joys that rise

Through all the courts of paradise,

To see a prodigal return,

To see an heir of glory born?

"With joy the Father doth approve
The fruit of His eternal love;

The Son with joy looks down and sees
The purchase of His agonies.

*Isaiah xlix. 24.

+ Luke v. 32.

"The Spirit takes delight to view
The holy soul he form'd anew;
And saints and angels join to sing

The growing empire of their King."

Another incident which transpired when Elizabeth was but three years of age, evinced that early strength of character for which she afterwards became so remarkable. One day her mamma had occasion, for some slight failure, to correct her with a light rod, and, for a while, to place her in a distant part of the room by herself. After many acknowledgments of her error, and entreaties for forgiveness, she was permitted to return to her mamma. Dropping upon her knees, she exclaimed, in a voice of the most melting tenderness, "I beg your pardon, mamma, for being so naughty, and for causing you so much trouble in whipping me. How kind of you to do so, or I should be so bold!" Then going to the table, she raised the rod, and kissing it, pressed it fervently to her heart, and said, "And you, sweet pretty rod, I could not do without you; you make me a good girl!" Tried and chastened believer is there no instruction in this simple story for you? Yes! thy heavenly Father is correcting thee, but it is in love to thy soul, and to make thee a "partaker of His holiness."* Go, and fall down at His feet, and exclaim, "Lord, I required the

*Heb. xii. 10.