penetrable to the eye of sense: when the grave presents a barrier, a dark and dreary barrier, between us and them; and when all connected with their sojourn below has assumed a new and irreversible, and, consequently, a more interesting character, memory, (while our faith forbids us to sorrow as others who have no hope,") may be permitted to cling to them with unabated, though it may be with an unearthly, affection.

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The sun was already declining in the west, when I was requested by my dear and valued friend to attend him to the "house of mourning." "Louisa," he said to me, "is dead. Her sorrows have early reached their close. This morning she entered into the joy of her Lord. Will you come with me, and assist me in ministering consolation to her afflicted family?".

I willingly accepted his invitation, though perhaps my motive may not have been altogether disinterested; for oftentimes there is a "root of bitterness," even where we

consider ourselves most free from every selfish motive. I had learned, by profitable experience, that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of feasting." There we survey what, sooner or later, must happen to ourselves; and the chamber of death becomes a monitor, which speaks with a still, small voice, but with an energy that breaks the silence of the tomb. "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward;" and we cannot too early habituate ourselves to scenes with which we must, and that ere long, be conversant.

We had proceeded some time without speaking, for our hearts were full. When the soul is, as it were, overwhelmed within us, it seeks relief rather in undisturbed meditation, than in the alleviations even of the intercourse of friendship. Deep sorrow is frequently, perhaps generally, uncomplaining. The burthen, too heavy to be borne, weighs us down, and leaves us unable to struggle against it's pressure. Our path, moreover, invited to contemplation. It lay along the banks of a lake, which has been the theme

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of admiration from age to age; and which, at this moment, was unusually attractive. It's picturesque borders, here rising into the sublime of mountains, so high that you might have thought them leaning on heaven -there stretching with a gay and verdant mantle by the winding shore-and farther towards the east and south, heightened in effect by the variety of light and shade, from the occasionally intercepted radiance of a setting sun-presented to our view unnumbered beauties. On, the left, ran the majestic and continuous range of the Jura, which frowned over the rich champaign that separated it from the lake, and seemed as if it would arrest the departing day, now given back to the eye in the tranquil mirror of the blue waters below. On our right, were the Alps, spread with everlasting snows, basking for a little in the retiring ray, and tinged with vermilion, as if enjoying the warmth that was soon to be withdrawn from them, to leave them once more in the colds of their dreary magnificence.

"It was an evening, calm and mild,
As the first evening Nature smiled;
Beauteous, as if the guilt of man
Had ne'er defaced his Maker's plan;
And pain-the penalty of sin-
And death, had never entered in.
No living sound, no motion stirr'd
In earth or air, save song of bird,
Or hum of insect on the wing,

Or trickling flow of pebbly spring."

The occasion of our visit was painfullypleasing. We were going to condole with an afflicted family; and our hearts, in unison with the claims of Christian fellowship, responded to the benign injunction, "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God." Though all around us neces sarily partook of the peculiar character of our feelings, and was rendered deeply impressive by the mournful nature of the duty we were going to fulfil, there were, nevertheless, not wanting those soothing alleviations, which gave a shade, if I may be pardoned the expression, of lovely melancholy to the prospect. We were bending our way to the abode of mourners, but

those mourners were of the household of faith. We were approaching the residence of Sorrow; but she had already been enabled to look up in hope. We were bound in spirit to testify of Jesus; but it was to those who had beheld him in his humiliation, and who were now waiting in peaceful expectation of the summons to join him beyond the narrow limits of time and trial. Was it wonder, then, that our minds were calmed by a view of the beauteous world, which, as a tent to dwell in, was spread before us? Surely we had been insensible of His love, who fixed the mountains, and poured the waters to refresh the earth, if we could have been indifferent to so enchanting a perspective of the work of his hands! No:

"We felt the calm, the healing power,
The influence of that tranquil hour,
So deep, so soothing, so serene,

The loveliness of that sweet scene!"

Our errand but too readily suggested a

subject of discourse: "It is but a few short