humility veil all from her own view, she seemed totally unconscious of possessing anything worthy of admiration, and was always grieved when undue adulation was paid to her person or her singing, in which accomplishment, such was her power of execution, she became the admiration and the pride of the regiment. One evening, on entering the room dressed for a party, her mamma, enraptured with her appearance, rose, and throwing her arms around her neck, lavished upon her some expression of admiration and affection too extravagant and fond. Elizabeth gave her a most solemn look, and said "O my darling fond mother, begging your pardon, you ought not to say these things to me; you might make me vain; recollect I am human.” Observing that her mamma appeared disconcerted, she laid her hand upon her arm, and pressing it, said—“I know, my dear mamma, you will not be hurt at what I have said. One moment's reflection will convince you that I am right." Her mother was desirous that she should sit for her picture, from a secret, trembling apprehension, that this lovely flower would soon be transplanted to its native skies. But such was her profound humility of mind, nothing could prevail upon her to comply with the request. She would playfully resist all her mother's entreaties by saying, "And what would you do with it if you had it? You would place it over the mantelpiece, and every person coming into the room would naturally say, 'Ah! I suppose this

girl fancies herself pretty." Thus, to the inexpressible and lasting regret of her parents, they possess no "faithful remembrancer of one so dear," save

"The image on the heart bestow'd,

To dwell there, beautiful in holiness."

In the absence of any such specimen of the "art that can immortalise," a pen-and-ink sketch of her personal appearance and literary acquisitions may not be inappropriate in this place. Let the imagination of the reader picture to itself an individual—in person, tall and symmetrically formed, her complexion fair, and her cheeks deeply tinted with the rose-hue of health, her soft blue eyes beaming with meek intelligence, and a profusion of light-brown hair falling in bright ringlets around her neck, and it will possess a faithful portrait of the interesting subject of our memoir. Upon this picture must be thrown the sun-light of that sweet, gentle disposition, winning manner, and air of superior station, which imparted dignity to every action, and grace to every movement. And yet to all this loveliness, her own eye was deeply veiled! An object of attraction to all who saw her, she alone was unconscious of the power which she possessed, and of the admiration which she awoke. Absorbed in the contemplation of the beauties of Jesus, revelling amidst the wonders of God's Word, and yearning in her heart for the conversion of souls, personal vanity and pride,

inherent though they were in her fallen nature, (for the germ of all sin dwells within us,) appeared not to soil and mar the peerless beauty of her character.

Young although she was, her literary attainments, particularly her acquisition of languages, were of a high order. She was a superior linguist. Before she arrived at the age of sixteen, she had become perfect mistress of the French, Italian, and other languages. Her belles-lettres accomplishments were not less brilliant. Her drawings were exquisite, and her executions upon her favourite guitar, and the piano, marked a skill and proficiency in music far beyond her years. Religion seemed to blend with, and to sanctify all her amusements. One day, she said to her mamma, "Mamma, although I have a great quantity of music, yet I have so few sacred pieces, and, oh, if you did but know how I love to sing the praises of my God!" The next day, on driving into Cork, her mamma enriched her stock of music, by the addition of a choice selection of anthems and other sacred pieces. On their return home, Elizabeth went to her piano, and sang that splendid composition of Handel-"Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God," &c. Overpowered with a sense of God's love, on finishing the piece, she arose, and approaching her mamma, dropped upon her knees, kissed her feet, and wept. With a heart struggling with the deepest emotion, she exclaimed "Oh, God is good! how can I ever praise

Him sufficiently in having given me such dear parents to gratify me in this way!"

Another instance of affectionate and grateful appreciation of her parents' sympathy with her fondness for music may be given. On their return from Lisbon to Cork, her papa presented her with a new and splendid piano. After running over the keys on the day of its presentation, she became deeply agitated, and nearly fainted from emotion. On recovering herself, she arose from the instrument, and throwing her arms around her papa's neck, she exclaimed with tears-"Oh, how good is God, to give me such dear parents! And how kind of you, papa, to put yourself to so great expense for such a worthless creature as I am." Her mamma replied "Yes! Lizzy; you must take great care of it, as it must last your lifetime." Alas! how brief that lifetime!—that period twelve months she passed into eternity, and entered upon the music of heaven!

Death and eternity seemed ever-present conceptions to the mind of Elizabeth. To her friends, not one of whom gave to these all-important subjects a single serious consideration-so eager were they in chase of the honours and the pleasures of the world-she was a person "* "wondered at." They would frequently inquire, "What has come over Elizabeth, for she is always speaking on religious subjects?" Upon one occasion, when walking in view of the Wicklow moun*Zech. iii. 8.

tains, her mamma, in the fond romance of her heart, and yielding at the same moment to the full inspiration of the grand and tranquil scene, said to her— 'Oh, Elizabeth, if you and I had a cave in that mountain to reside together in, how happy we should be!” Elizabeth, with great impressiveness of manner, yet gentleness of tone, instantly replied, "Yes, mamma, but one of us might die! and then what would become of the survivor?" The thought that death might enter that peaceful glen, and rudely sunder the fond tie that existed there, leaving a broken, bleeding heart, to sigh out its lone grief to the wild winds of the mountain, never crossed the mind of this indulgent mother. But to the sanctified and thoughtful intellect of this girl of sixteen, with the capacity and the power of enjoying life to its extreme of earthly bliss, there seemed an ever-present consciousness of the nearness and solemn realities of the eternal world.

The preciousness of the Saviour was her favourite and frequent theme. One day, when her mamma was embarrassed in replying to some of her questions on religious subjects, she said "Oh, mamma, look to Jesus! He can do all things; nothing is impossible with Him." How touching the spectacle-a child directing the author of her natural life to Him who is the Author of spiritual and eternal life!

The following incident in her Christian experience will impart to the reader some insight into the sim