Page:Soldier's daughter, or, The history of Mary Jones.pdf/2



was the only child of a private so dier, and was accustomed to travel about with the regiment from her birth. At about the age of fifteen she had the misfortune of losing her mother. When the poor woman felt herself approaching to her end, she left the barracks, and taking Mary with her, went to a small cabin near the town where the regiment was quartered. The day before she died, she called Mary to her bedside, and said, “My dear child, I am going to leave you.” “O mother,” said Mary, “do not speak in that way, I am sure you will soon be better.”

“No,” said the poor woman, “I shall not recover, my journey is almost over; but dry your tears, and listen while I am able to speak to you. I have no legacy for you, my child, but this book—a greater treasure I could not give you. This bible has been my constant companion for many years; it has been my comforter too. I have learned from it my own guilt and wretchedness but it has told me of just such a Saviour as my poor soul needs. I have learned from it, that the “Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world,” is mighty to save “freely by his grace,” the vilest, who trusts in him. The words of this book have been my support through life, and now that I am dying, its precious promises afford me peace and consolation. I know I am a sinner; know I deserve nothing but condemnation, but I know in whom I have believed, and trusting in Jesus the “Friend of sinners,” I meet death with joy, as the messenger that calls me home to him, “ whom not having seen, I love.”