ing mind, to contemplate this object without falling into the thought of the Apostle: "The invisible things of God from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead."

I have been walking this morning, and wooing the influence of his earliest beams. My heart was filled with cheerful serenity. The stillness of the air the universal repose afforded opportu nity of uninterrupted communion with

the Father of Spirits. Devotion seems peculiarly seasonable in the moment just preceding that, when the world is about to break from its slumbers, and to put forth its recruited energies in the prosecution of its various plans, and the advancement of its opposite interests. Now hatred and ambition, and enterprise and heroism, are as if they were not; a moment and they spring into being

and activity, as the goddess mature and

ready-armed. The earth appears to the spectator as if fresh from the impress of its Maker's hand, clad in smiles and loveliness, ready to receive its intelligent inhabitant. All is bright and glittering in the dew of heaven, as if the tear of sorrow had never fallen on the soil-as if the sigh of despair had never pressed upon the atmosphere. Here suffering may acquire resignation; faith may drink deep of the stream of heavenly joy. "I am always happiest at sun-rise," I once heard a beautiful and pious girl declare" it is but a fancy, but it is, I hope, innocent :- the eye of God seems to be visibly upon me in this clear, unpolluted sun-light; and I feel so blissfully certain of his protection, and have so unbounded a reliance on the power and the mercy of my Saviour, that I should be too joyous for a probationary ereature, were it not for the fear, that ere those bright chariot-wheels shall have travelled for an hour's space in the

heavens, I shall have to deplore some newly committed sin, or some newly discovered wickedness of heart, which must cover me with shame, and bow me to the earth in sadness and contrition."

Happily for her, this life of sinning and repenting is past. She no longer "sees through a glass darkly;" - she has" entered into her rest." She lived to God here; it may humbly be hoped she now enjoys the fulness of delight, communicable only by His presence. "I am resigned to suffer and to live on," she said some minutes before her death; "but now that the prospect of release has been almost realised, it would require the most undoubting faith in the promises and the unerring wisdom of Christ, to teach the spirit to submit to the certainty of sinning yet again!"

Engrossed by these reflections, and by the memory of those dear ones now passed from this world, so closely con nected with similar trains of thought, I

did not perceive the approach of Hartley Aubertin, the son of my host, until I was within a very few paces of him.

Our morning salutations were soon made, and we walked on together.

"You are an early riser," said I, attempting to commence a conversation with him; "like myself, perhaps, you find pleasure in contemplating this globe of ours in a calm.”

"No I confess I generally prefer

my bed at this hour," he replied with an abstracted air; and relapsed into that silence from which he seemed to have roused himself by effort.

Considering his situation, his inclination to reverie appeared to me by no means extraordinary. I had been in England only a few weeks, when I received the invitation which had brought me to the mansion of his father; and it had been formally notified to me, that the nuptials of this, the only child of

Mr. Aubertin, were on the point of solemnization.

I turned to regard his countenance, for there are moments when I seem to gain acquaintance with a man more rapidly and certainly by this medium, than by that of words. I pursued my exami nation with the greater interest, because a variety of contrary feelings were apparent there.

his

He is a very elegant young man — stature not exceeding what is called the middle height-his figure slight and graceful. He has dark hair and

eyes; and his complexion is not romantic, — it is of a clear, healthful, English hue, His features are moulded to express joy and frankness. There are no lines of deep thought, feeling, or passion. It is altogether a face indicative of a mind which, if it had not energy to soar to the moral sublime, is not in danger of plunging into the abyss of extreme turpitude. In