The poor inmate (Mrs. Allen) was seated in her chair, wrapped in flannel, and supported by pillows, her appearance plainly indicating that she was near death. She smiled on seeing me, but on seeing the stranger she became a little disconcerted, yet, with polite ease, she moved her hands towards two chairs, and said, "Gentlemen, be seated."
"You appear," said Mr. Tennent, "very ill."
"Yes, Sir, but I believe my life of suffering will soon end, and then all will be well—and for ever."
"I suppose you hope to go to heaven when you die?"
"I have no doubt of it, Sir."
"But as your Bible speaks of hell and eternal misery, don't you sometimes fear going there when you die?"
"I did once, Sir."
"And why not now?"
"Because my dear Saviour says, 'Come unto me, and I will give you rest.' I have come to him, and do come to him daily and hourly, and he has fulfilled his promise, and given me rest of soul, as an earnest of everlasting rest, and peace, and joy."