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that were almost intolerable, of that dismal church-yard, the hearse, the coffin, and the

worms.

Oh! it needs religion to reconcile us even to the earthly part of death.

How dreadful, then, must be the error of those parents who would forcibly compel their children to walk in the right way, by imposing upon them unnatural restraints; checking their innocent mirth, and violently uprooting, instead of properly directing, those desires which nature has implanted in their

path which is recommended to us, no wonder that so few continue to walk therein.

Of the family of the Eskdales, it is not necessary to say more than that, at the expiration of the usual time for seclusion, they en-hearts. If this be the straight and narrow tered the church, in which they maintained a warm and comfortable seat, dressed in a full costume of fashionable mourning; that many times during that day's service, the mother's face was shrouded in a white and delicately scented cambric handkerchief; and that once or twice, when the daughters lifted up their blue eyes, they were seen to be suffused with tears.

CHAPTER VI.

In order that death may be divested of its terrors, it is not necessary that we should render life still more terrible. In order that we may think of the grave without shuddering and horror, it is not necessary that we should make the way that leads to it a howling wilderness;-in order that we may be willing to die, it is not necessary that we should hate to live.

The bountiful Creator of our being has supplied his creatures with sources of happiness, so various and so multiplied, that the meanest peasant may find them in his daily path, while, to the liberal and enlightened mind, earth, air, and ocean, teem with wonder and delight. How, then, can there be sin

Ir any young reader shall have glanced over this picture, in search of highly coloured, or romantic scenery, without any regard to the general design of the painting, disap-in opening the heart to those pleasures which pointment will be the probable issue, accompanied by a want of patience to bear with the author a little longer, while she gives a summary of her meaning, or, in the true style of fable writing, adds a moral to her tale.

the present state of existence affords. The great and important question is, in what measure, and in what manner we shall enjoy them.

If the body be permitted to gain the asThe individual, whose short career hascendancy-if we spend our money, our time been described in these pages, may serve to and our energies, in ministering to the gratirepresent a vast multitude of sentient and fication of our senses; whether in gross inimmortal beings, who pass from the cradle dulgence, or in that which is more refined to the grave, without once enquiring for and voluptuous, well may we shudder to perwhat purpose they have been sent to trace ceive in that body the symptoms of disease their little journey of experience upon this or age; when we know that it must pass earth-with what provision they have set away into a state which offers every thing out upon that journey, and what will be the humiliating and repulsive to the natural feelevent of its termination. ings. But if, on the other hand, our pleasures and pursuits have been such as to elevate and purify the mind, that mind, being itself immortal, will rejoice at the prospect of that day, when it shall burst the bonds of its prison-house, and leave behind the gross impediments of clay.

The human mind, in its natural state, has, under all circumstances, powers of action and capabilities of enjoyment; and must necessarily be supplied with objects on which these powers may operate, and sources from whence these capabilities may extract pleas

ure.

But how, asks the young reader, is it pos

sible to attain this state of mental exaltation. My dear young friends, well may you hesitate, before you attempt so difficult an ascent, without the help of religion; but religion, vulgar, degraded, trampled-upon religion, is able to accomplish all this for you; and that, without the aid of science or philosophy: and religion has done as much for many, whose portion in this world was, to be despised and rejected of men; convincing them by the surest evidence, that the termination of life is not in itself an evil, nor the approach to it a season of dread.. That death may be compelled to lay down his hideous sceptre, to cease to be a king of terrors, and placing on his brow the diadem of peace, stretch forth his hand, in kindly welcome, to the shores of a long wished-for eternity.

As farther proof how much the body may be made subservient to the mind, we have only to refer to the history of some of the ancient philosophers, who knew not God; and yet were able to meet death with calmness and satisfaction, and plunge, without fear, into the abyss of uncertainty. If, then, the case of these wonderful beings, who shone like stars in the distant firmament; beautiful in their own lustre, but dimly disappearing before the glorious orb of day

if the case of these wonderful men supplies us with proof, how much the body may be brought into subjection to the mind; how much of firmness and fortitude may be at, tained; how much resignation of self and sensual enjoyment may be effected, by a steady and systematic cultivation of the intellectual powers, combined with a contempt for those luxuries and pleasures which afford gratification to the senses alone; what should be the expression of our joy, what the measure of our gratitude to him who has permitted us, in this our day, to add to the negative satisfaction of the stoic, the high hopes, and the glorious privileges which religion alone can offer.

Philosophy may destroy the burden of the body, but religion gives wings to the soul. Philosophy may enable us to look down upon earth with contempt, but religion teaches us to look up to heaven with hope. Philosophy may support us to the brink of the grave, but religion conducts us beyond. Philosophy unfolds a rich store of enjoyment,

religion makes it eternal. Happy is the heart where religion holds her throne, and philosophy her noble handmaid, ministers to her exaltation!

THE CURATE'S WIDOW.

Oh! amiable lovely death!-SHAKSPEARE.

CHAPTER I.

In order to present the young reader with a contrast to the foregoing picture, it is almost necessary to enter into the humble and limited experience of the true christian, under similar, and even greater trials. Such a picture of private life offers nothing in the way of romantic interest; nothing to excite the passions; nothing to awaken in the soul one spark of poetic feeling; but if it should possess a charm of sufficient power to fix the attention of the reader, to excite a greater love of virtue, or awaken in the soul a spark of religious zeal, the Author will not have to lament that she has written in vain.

"How shall I build an altar,

To the Author of my days;
With lips so prone to faulter,
How shall I sound his praise?
Thy temples were too lowly,
Oh! great Jerusalem;
The Lord of hosts too holy,
Too pure, to dwell in them!
Then how shall I, the weakest,
His servant hope to be ?
I'll listen when thon speakest,
Spirit of love to me!

I'll do thy holy bidding,

With unrepining heart;
I'll bear thy gentle chiding,
For merciful thou art.

I'll bring each angry feeling,
A sacrifice to thee;
I'll ask thy heavenly healing,
Even for mine enemy.

So shall I build an altar,

To the Author of my days; With lips though prone to faulter, So shall I sound his praise."

Such were the words sung by Alice Bland, as she sat on a low bench at her own door, one beautiful sabbath evening; and the cheerful cadence was joined by the sweet voice of a little dark-haired boy, whom she pressed closely to her side; while their eyes met with an expression of such affection, as none but a mother and a child can know. And then they looked away again, over the green fields, far on to the village spire, and traced a little winding path that issued from a group of stately trees, with diligent search, as if for the appearance of some expected object, that was to bring additional enjoyment to their quiet and peaceful pleasures.

"He is coming, he is coming," said the child, and they both ran forward through the garden gate, and down the green lane, where they met a tall, sallow, and exhaustedlooking young man, dressed in clerical costume, and wearing the still more imposing solemnity of his sacred office, as one who deeply felt its awful and almost overwhelming responsibility.

Never did plumed warrior, returning from the field of glory, meet a kinder welcome from his lady-love, than that with which Alice Bland greeted her returning lord--lord both of her heart and home. And he too had his full particpation of delight, as might be scen in his dark and often melancholy eyes, now lighted up with all the feelings of the husband, and the father, as he stooped to kiss his boy, the very emblem of himself;--he stooped, for he had lately discovered that to lift him from the ground, required an effort almost beyond his strength; especially after so long

a walk, a day of such laborious duty, and on a sultry summer's evening: indeed the first greeting was hardly over, before he complained of the oppressive heat of the weather, took off his hat, and wiped his brow, that was pale and wrinkled with exhaustion and fatigue.

Alice placed his arm within hers, and led him gently up the lane, while the boy ran forward and threw open the garden gate, holding it back at the very widest, that his father and mother might pass through without hinderance.

Within the cottage all was peace and simple comfort. Their one domestic was enjoying the liberty of the sabbath amongst her own people, and Alice with her willing hands, had prepared the social tea, with cream, and fruit, and every thing that she thought would be most refreshing to the weary invalid. Little Marcus had gathered a plate of strawberries, of which he felt himself the proud proprietor, and these, with both his hands, he presented to his father, with that deference which his mother had taught him was due to those who were ill; and though his father told him again and again that ladies should be first attended to, the influence of the mother prevailed, and the ill-mannered boy persisted in the error of his ways.

Happy pair! this little point of etiquette was all that Marcus and Alice Bland ever found to contend about; for in duty, as well as in pleasure, their hands and hearts were united.

The social meal was prolonged by pleasant converse, and the frolic of the happy child, until the golden hues of sunset, and the lengthened shadows of the trees gave place to the sober livery of twilight.

Little Marcus had sung his evening hymn, and lisped his evening prayer, and the fond parents had both pressed their farewell kiss upon his cheek, when they sat down together, and in silence, as if listening to a boding voice, which of late had often whispered to their hearts, though neither had trusted their lips with a response. At last the husband

spoke, and that melancholy sound seemed to Alice deep and impressive, as the tolling of the bell, to those who watch the motionless body of the dead.

"When I am gone," said Marcus, and he paused; for he was startled by the convulsive pressure of the hand that was clasped in his, but his wife made no reply, and again he spoke :

"Alice, my beloved wife, there is an awful sentence pronounced upon us. We have long known it, why should we shrink from acknowledging to each other that we must part. Close, as the connection between soul and body, has been the union of my spirit with thine; but as it is appointed unto all that they should die, so is it appointed to the dearest that they should part. We are not as those who are sorrowing without hope; for we know, and believe and are persuaded, that we shall meet again; and that in all things excellent, and pure, and holy, we are bound together by ties which death cannot tear asunder. Look up my beloved, and tell me, though this separation must cut us off for ever from earthly hope, tell me that thou hast no repinings, no murmurings against the divine will."

And Alice answered in a firm and steady voice, "I have none;" and then they pursued the solemn subject, and branched out into its painful realities, with the faith and the confidence of sincere and humble christians. The father spoke tenderly of his child; and then the mother covered her face with her hands, and wept aloud; but her tears were tears of womanly feeling, not of despondency or doubt.

CHAPTER II.

ALICE Bland was a plain and useful character, with few pretensions to gentility; but she possessed that rare and valuable tact, which preserved her from every offence against the laws of good breeding. Her

husband was a scholar and a gentleman; glory. And Alice prayed also, both with her husband and in secret; still bearing nobly on, for the end was not yet, and she had all those hallowed duties to perform which keep alive the heart of woman.

but they were both of humble parentage; and had it not been for their unbounded affection for each other, their simple habits, and contentment in their lowly station, they would have found it extremely difficult to exist, upon the slender pittance which the curacy of the neighbouring parish afforded. But Alice was cheerful, active, and domestic, and made the best of every thing, even of herself, though without knowing it; for her appearance, dress, and manners, were as simple and unpretending, as well could be. And then she had such a warm welcome in her very look; indeed some people said it was her comfortable, and care-taking ways, that first won upon the poor invalid; for he was a lodger in her mother's house, long before they married, and Alice used to wait upon him like a sister, and truly he both deserved and needed it; for he was an orphan left almost destitute, was kind in his disposition, studious in his habits, constitutionally pensive, and pious upon principle.

It was scarcely possible for the relentless hand of death to cut asunder a closer, dearer or more tender thread than that which bound together this simple pair; and yet they saw every day that there was urgent need for preparation for that awful and tremendous event, which, after they had once spoken of it, became the theme of their serious and most confidential communion.

Marcus Bland was sinking fast away; but to him death had no terrors, and though his griefs were those of the husband and the father, his hopes were those of the Christian, pure, and elevated, and holy; bearing him above all considerations either earthly or perishable. But she, the vine, who had bound her tendrils round his branches, and interwoven her very existence with his, and the young sapling, how were they to endure the storms of winter, without the shelter of the parent stem. For them he mourned in secret; for them he prayed, that every rough blast might be turned away, that genial showers might descend, and that they might live and flourish in the sunshine of eternal

"You are better to day," said she to her husband one afternoon, when he seemed to be recovering from the severest paroxyism of his disorder.

"I am better," said he, "but I want breath;" so Alice folded back the curtains of the bed, and opened the window, and they looked out together again upon the green fields, and the winding path, which he had so often trod when going forth on his pastoral duties.

"I want breath," continued he, "and voice, and energy, to tell you of the ineffable enjoyment of dying the death of the Christian. My heart is filled with the unspeakable love which we believe to be a part of the Divine essence; for which we have often prayed, and which is of such difficult attainment amidst the troubles and turmoils of life. Alice, thou shouldst have no tears for such an hour as this. Oh, cherish the remembrance of our parting scene, as the support and the consolation of thy future life; and when I am gone, think not of me as a man who was humble, and pious, and devout, but of one who lived and died in the love of Christ Jesus, and the faith which is built upon his resurrection: who, if he had any knowledge above that of the vilest sinner, owed that knowledge to the precepts of his heavenly Master; if he had any faith beyond that of the hypocrite, freely acknowledged that faith to be from above; and if he were at last supported through the bitterness of parting from the dearest of earthly companionships, knew it could only be by the interposition of divine mercy.

"Think of these things, my beloved wife, more than of me. The cup of which we have partaken together, has been sweet as the waters of paradise. Remember from whence that cup was filled, and believe that there are rivers of delight in store for those who faithfully fulfil their appointed task.

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