NO FICTION.

CHAPTER I.

"HOW sweet a morning it is!" said Mr. Douglas.

"It is indeed!” replied his friend and companion Mr. Banks.

"To use the words of a poet," con-" tinued Mr. Douglas, all nature is beauty to the eye and music to the ear; and, taking some liberty with him, we may add, fragrance to the smell," inclining his hand, as he spoke, to the banks and hedges, skirting either side of the road in which they were walking.

"And," observed Mr. Banks, "all the fragrance, the music, and the beauty of nature appear in separate ways to be

uttering the praises of the great Creator. It is at this moment I feel the force of the Psalmist's words-All thy works praise Thee!"

"And I hope," rejoined Mr. Douglas, turning on his friend a countenance lighted up with pleasure, we may subjoinand thy saints bless Thee!”

"At least," said Mr. Banks, catching the allusion, none can have greater cause to offer the sacrifice of blessing and praise than we, who have so fully witnessed the Divine mercy. Not long since we were strangers to God, and strangers to hope; we were living according to the course of this world; children of disobedience and wrath; but, we are washed; we are sanctified; we are justified!"

"O what a state were we in!" exclaimed Mr. Douglas, thoughtfully, "and what should we not feel if we are delivered from it! And," continued he, endeavouring to rise into confidence, " "when we consider, that he who delivered us is the Being, who clothes the fields with beauty, upholds the world by his power, and

spreads out the heaven like a curtain: that this Being, great and happy in himself, pitied us; dwelt in flesh for us; suffered poverty and reproach for us; groaned, and wept, and died for us

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Their feelings rose, as they had frequently done in previous conversation, above utterance, and they resigned themselves to silent and sacred reflections.

"No thanks they breathed, they proffer'd no request,
Wrapt into still communion, that transcends.
The imperfect offices of prayer and praise,
Their minds were a thanksgiving to the power
That sav'd them,-all was blessedness and love."

On these sentiments of blessedness and love, which possessed the young friends, the morning they admired was well adapted to have its influence. It was one of those mornings with which the month of May sometimes presents us. The sun was rising with splendor into the heavens, and seemed rejoicing, as a strong man, in chasing away the gloom of night and subduing the severities of winter. The hills and meadows were covered with a beautiful robe

of living green, richly enamelled with the golden and pearly hues of the buttercup and daisy. The little lambs were dancing in the surrounding fields, as the emblems of peace, and innocence, and freedom. The lark was bearing her song of praise towards the gate of heaven; while a thousand birds, of meaner name, seemed to be sustaining the chorus amongst the trees and bushes below. The primrose, the cowslip, and the hawthorn, were throwing back their dewy leaves to the sun; and appeared collected by the way side, to pour forth, from their cups, the sweetest perfumes on the passing traveller.

Mr. Banks and Douglas too, were just at that period of life which is usually the spring tide of animal spirits. Their tastes had not been corrupted by the habits, nor subdued by the perplexities, of the world. They had recently "tasted that the Lord is gracious," and had the freshness of his love upon them. They had dedicated themselves to their Redeemer, and thought they could not better express their gratitude to Him for his benefits, than by making his