compared to the back of a gigantic beetle. Here were sheep grazing, whilst their little lambkins frisked and sported by their sides. White butterflies were flitting in the sunshine. The very air was redolent of sweets from the woodbine which was then in bloom, and the wild roses also in full beauty, formed an elegant contrast with the rich bright green of the hedge-rows clothed in the garb of early summer. These objects appeared to excite emotions of grateful joy in the mind of my beloved father, who gave them expression in the words of the psalmist, "O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches."

As my father uttered these words, a woman who was seated under a hedge by the way side rose, and approaching us implored charity. In her arms she held an infant which she informed us was ill, and which moaned piteously, as if in pain. My dear father, ever ready to assist the distressed, gave money to the mother, and urged her to hasten to the neighbouring town, and endeavor to obtain relief for the sick infant. He then turned and remained watching her as she descended the hill. "Observe, Caroline," he said,

even here, in this scene of to forget our lost estate by Although this world is still

quiet loveliness, we are not suffered nature - the sad effects of the Fall. beautiful, sin has done much to mar its beauties. Yet the wisdom and goodness of the Creator are visible in his works, and whether we survey the prospect around us, or examine the flower at our feet, we are constrained to acknowledge that power and benevolence are attributes of our God."

"But the baby, papa, the dear baby!" said I, interrupting him, and I found it difficult to restrain my tears, for I had seen a little brother sicken and die, and the plaintive moan of the infant had touched a tender chord and revived many painful recollections.

"My love," he replied, "this scene of suffering reminds us of the exceeding sinfulness of sin, which entails disease and death upon every child of Adam. But we must not forget, that although Adam sinned, Jesus died. Yes," he continued with increasing animation, "in spite of the evils resulting from the disobedience of one, we can exclaim with triumph, Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift—the gift of a Saviour;' a precious

6

gift indeed, which can change the saddest manifestation of our fallen nature into a subject for joy and thanksgiving. Let us ever remember, my Caroline, that—

'In Christ, the tribes of Adam boast

More blessings than their father lost:'

and that he who was manifested to take away sin said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.'"

A long pause followed these remarks, and I felt more than ever averse to introduce the subject of the prize. Presently we lost sight of the poor woman and her infant, and slowly resumed our walk. My father then searched in his pocket book for a letter which he put into my hand, saying, “It is from Mrs. Dalton who wishes you to visit her daughter during a part of the vacation."

"Dear papa, how kind, how delightful! She resides in London, you know. You will allow me to accept her invitation, papa ?" "We shall see by and bye," he replied. S. A.

(To be continued.)

THE WAY TO THE GIFT.

My stay in London was of short duration. In these railway times every thing goes on faster than it used to do, and when a vessel is announced to sail for foreign parts, the owners and those otherwise interested endeavor to be punctual, not only as regards the day, but sometimes even the very hour, of sailing. Three days after the arrival of poor John Curtis and his wife, in London, they went on board the vessel which was to carry them out to the Antipodes, and before I had reached home again they were probably clear of the channel.

Yes it was John Curtis, late churchwarden of Springclose, on whose behalf I had just interested myself. Unwilling to move with the times, looking with a jealous eye on all agricultural improvements, and laughing down the notion that chemistry, or any other science, could possibly be connected with farming, he had found every thing go wrong, and was at last glad to realize what little property he had saved and endeavor to mak the most of it abroad.

When I had returned home, my thoughts reverted to Major Goode and our intended call, but amongst the first news I heard, my wife informed me that he was about to be married! Verging as he was towards three-score years and ten, we had some doubts regarding the rumour, but it was soon confirmed. His choice, as might have been expected, was hasty and unadvised, and the future partner of his joys and sorrows-happy by courtesy alone -was soon to find it out as well as himself. But on this subject more will be said presently.

Amongst other circumstances which tended still longer to postpone this visit, a message had been left for me during my few days' absence, to repair, as soon after my return as possible, to our old friends, the Walkinshaws, for the purpose of arranging some money matters relative to the young ladies of that family, which my wife was of course quite positive could have reference to nothing less than the marriage-settlement of one of the daughters.

The very next day, therefore, after my return, I made a point of visiting the Lindens, which looked perhaps still prettier, fringed and furbelowed with the rich leafage of autumn, than it had done even on my previous visit. I was surprised, however, on reaching it, to find the garden gates thrown back to their full extent, and a handsome chariot standing on the sweep. I should have gone in, nevertheless, at once, had I not noticed that the hall door stood ajar, and heard voices just within it. Making a short detour, but keeping my eye upon the house, I saw emerging, in a few seconds, a square-built, high-shouldered, little figure in a green coat with bright buttons, followed by a little lady much above the middle age, neither very elegant nor prepossessing in appearance, but very rich, if the costume and decorations of that singular looking little body were to be taken as any criterion. After the interchange of a few intense compliments and excruciating adieus, they stepped into the carriage, and were driven off, followed by such a waving of hands and handkerchiefs as is seldom seen, except at an election or a lord mayor's show. Mr. and Mrs. Walkinshaw, and the two elder young ladies stood for some time after the visitors had disappeared, with smiles upon their faces, which almost seemed as if they were stereotyped, never to be melted down again; but at last turned

round and walked into the house, feeling, if their looks might be relied on, infinitely glorified by this memorable little incident. As the reader has already heard the name of this gentleman in green, we shall not, perhaps, overtask his patience if we say no more about him for the present, promising at no very distant period to revert to the subject.

The carriage had rolled off with great eclat, and the family were standing idle and objectless in the transparent drawingroom described in our former series, when I walked up to the door of the Lindens, and announced my arrival by a dashing rat-tat-tat. There was no need to have done this, for Miss Walkinshaw had seen my approach, and had actually her hand upon the door at the moment. Opening it with her usual elegance, she was of course delighted to see me, as such people always are to see any one; and the whole family, with smiles and courtesies which would have been winning enough had they had any meaning, inducted me in due form into the crochet chamber, where the ruins of an elegant luncheon, rising from a chaos of net-work, still graced the rosewood table in the centre.

After a few inquiries as to my visit to London, in which I was of course asked if I had seen her Majesty, and sundry questions of the like nature, Miss Caroline supposed I had met a carriage in the lane, and was about commencing a history of their illustrious visitors, when her mamma suggested that we had perhaps better proceed at once to the business which had called me over; and as leisure might allow, talk of other matters afterwards.

"I do not know," said she, "whether Mrs. Enderby informed you of Laura's intentions: we shall want your concurrence in our plans-but of course you know this-and I was anxious to settle the matter with as little delay as possible."

"I have heard nothing as yet beyond conjecture," said I, with some attempt at roguishness. "So Miss Laura is the favored one?"

As the young ladies did not laugh, as young ladies usually do when the most solemn of all engagements—the marriage contract-is mooted, I conjectured that this business of Miss Laura's could have no reference to such an event; and looked not a little embarrassed.

"My dear," said Mrs. Walkinshaw, to Louisa, "will you fetch

me that last letter of Laura's: it will explain this matter better than I can do." 6. Walkinshaw," she added, turning to her husband, who had left this business in her hands, as he did almost every other, and sat silent and thoughtful in the window, "will you tell the child where you put it.”

The letter was soon brought, and, after many apologies and explanations, and a few interesting evasions, it was read by Caroline, as follows:

"MY EVER DEAR Mamma,

"I told you when I last wrote, giving you some particulars of my new position and employments, that I would soon send you ' a full, true, and particular account' of the way in which our time is spent here. You may think it, perhaps, dull work to have prayers seven times a day, and every day; besides morning and evening services, but I can assure you that so far from being irksome, it is very delightful when done so poetically and prettily as we do it here. At seven o'clock we attend Prime,' when the rules of the house for the day are read; at eight o'clock to church; at half-past nine, prayers, ' Terse ;' at one o'clock ' Sext;' at twenty minutes past two, Nones;' at six, p.m., Vespers; at nine, p.m., Compline.' There is of course a good deal of music and ceremony in our way of doing this, which relieves it very much; and then our chapel or 'oratory' as we call it, is the prettiest place imaginable. It is a little room hung with crimson cloth, with an altar similarly draperied: on this stands a table covered with blue cloth, and surmounted by such a darling white cross of marble, about two or three feet high. To add to the effect, we place a vase of flowers on each side the table; and when I tell you that we change these flowers according to the saints' days and holidays in the calendar, you may judge for yourself whether the whole thing does not go off without much monotony or weariness. At Christmas we have laurel and small white flowers; and on the days dedicated to martyrs, they are crimson or purple, if we can get them. By the bye I must tell you a good story about these, first mentioning that we are taught to bow and curtsey to this Cross on entering the room."

I scarcely knew how to receive these statements; but recollecting that Laura Walkinshaw, when I last heard of her, was in France, whither she had been sent to complete her education, I