Page:Soldier's daughter, or, The history of Mary Jones.pdf/3

 The next day the poor woman died, enjoying that peace which nothing but an entire dependence on the Redeemer can give.

Mary Jones grieved much for her mother, but she did not know how great a loss she had sustained. Her mother had taken the greatest pains to bring her up decently, and to preserve her from all the evils she might suffer from living in a barrack. Now her only protector was her father, who was almost always on guard, or among the soldiers, and therefore paid but little attention to her. Mary had been accustomed to read the bible to her mother every day. This she had always felt a troublesome task, and therefore soon after her mother’s death, the bible, which had only been read by constraint, was neglected, and she spent almost her whole time in idleness, talking with the soldiers’ wives, &c. and even the Sabbath days were devoted to amusement.

Three years passed on in this manner, when the regiment was ordered abroad for foreign service, and the women belonging to it, were obliged to remain behind, and Mary hired as children’s maid at the house of a gentleman, who lived near. In her new situation, Mary had much time for reflection. When sitting alone in the nursery, at night, she would often think of her mother. Many of her sayings, which she thought she had entirely forgotten, recurred to her mind. The tenderness and earnestness with which she had frequently urged to her the importance of eternal things, and above all, their last conversation was recollected by Mary most perfectly. Oh! (said she to herself,) little did my mother think, that that book, her dying legacy, which she gave me with prayers and tears, would be so neglected by me. But if this has been ingratitude in me towards her, how offensive must it have been to God, to have made light of his word? It is now too late for me to seek the mercy I have despised so long. I have cast God’s word behind me, and he will be just in casting me from his presence at last into everlasting fire.

Her mind was thus engaged one evening, when Anne Browne, one of her fellow-servants, came into the room, and perceiving by Mary’s countenance she was in distress, with great tenderness asked her the cause. Encouraged