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dane beauties; and he has a brighter world for me, when I am removed from this. May I continue faithful, that he may welcome me into it. The Apostle might well say, Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again, I say rejoice.' Who has so great a right to rejoice as his true servants. The world is theirs, they shall inherit the earth.' Heaven is theirs, they are the heirs of it. How greatly err the votaries of this world, the sons of gaiety and pleasure, when they say religion is the parent of gloom! Did they know the true nature of religion, they would not forego the solid happiness it affords."

With such thoughts as these, Charles Mortimer, in the afternoon, drew near the picturesque valley. From a woody eminence he had a view of its serpentine windings, its silvery streamlets, its wood-crowned hills, here swelling into projecting foregrounds, there retiring into deeply-bosomed dells. The scenes of childhood came all before him. There once passed many of his boyish days: those steeps he had climbed; in those rivulets he had bathed, and sported on their margin; those roads he had traversed repeatedly with his friends, and sometimes alone on horseback or on foot; and he now hastened forward to gladden his sight with the view of friends, beloved and endeared by more than mortal ties, by the golden bands of sacred friendship and true piety, which death itself cannot snap asunder, but which will lengthen and extend through a blissful Eternity. "Oh!" said he, as he contemplated the valley, "what a charm is shed upon this picturesque scenery by the presence of friends whom I esteem as the excellent of the earth, in whose society I gain animation to pursue the sacred road, and by whose counsels and examples I am strengthened in my purposes. There too, beyond that winding woodland prominence, dwells, in his sequestered vicarage, the tutor who formed my childhood,

who first pointed my young mind to Heaven, who first taught me to find a pleasure in religion, and to fear and dread the downward road to destruction, in whose family I learned so many lessons of piety, formed associates who have also become college friends and intimate companions, and with whom I hope to enjoy a beneficial intercourse through the whole journey of life."

Such were his musings as he entered the town of Bellam, so remarkable for its cleanly, neat, and polished appearance. He turned aside round the gothic church to call on his friend and school fellow John Martyr. He most cordially hailed his arrival, and introduced him to his father, a short, thick, sedate, but pleasant man, overflowing with christian affection, abounding in gracious sentiments. "Welcome, welcome Charles," said he, "I have often heard my son speak of you, how you used to sing and pray with your school-fellows when you were with Mr. Bredwell; I rejoiced to hear it, I hope you will all grow up Christians indeed. Ah! watch unto prayer, keep close to Christ, depend upon it at Oxford you will need a constant use of all these means. You Oxford scholars are in a bad school; not many of you I fear are in Christ'sfold, though of Christ Church." John now proposed a walk in the orchard: it was indeed one of the finest ever seen, it comprehended about an acre of ground completely covered with regular rows of apple and pear trees, forming so many continuous natural arbours throughout. Above it to the right rose a fine hill tufted with a beautiful grove, surrounding a lovely villa, and beyond it stretched a narrow valley, bounded by well cultured hills, thick set with corn, and partially crowned with woods. In this spot, John said his father, in digging in the field, found a pot filled with Roman coins.

John now accompanied Charles a mile on his road, along

some verdant meadows, bounded by two clear fine running brooks, and pointed out some beautiful alcoves and arbours in a nobleman's park, on the other side of the stream. Having interchanged mutual good wishes the school-fellows shook hands cordially together, and Charles having again entered the high road, walked on to the village of friendship. How lovely appeared the white villa of Mr. Kindly, peeping through the lofty firs and elms, how picturesque the curling smoke from his friend Gell's lovely dwelling, while the woods that overhung the village on the summits of lofty hills which enclosed it, reminded him of the Psalmist's exclamation, "As the hills stand round about Jerusalem, so the Lord standeth round about his people." It was about six o'clock when Charles entered the village. "How cool," said he "looks this clear rivulet as I pass its bridge, and how refreshing the shade of these arching trees beyond it! After walking along the dusty turnpikeroad, the change is peculiarly grateful, it is almost like the shadow of a great rock to a panting traveller in a weary land; and is an emblem of that soothing refreshment I expect to find at my friend Gell's, in the intellectual treat, the religious festival, I anticipate in their agreeable company, after the dull studies and tiresome sameness of a college life. But it is a still livelier emblem of that soothing refreshment felt by a sinner who, after a wearisome course in the ways of sin, after fears and pains, comes heavy laden to the shadow of the cross, and is led beside the still waters of christian consolation." With these reflections, Charles passed through the neat gravelled village, crossed another silvery stream, and then entered the court of his friend Gell's habitation. The court was bounded with beautiful flower gardens, within palisade inclosures, and against the side of the outbuildings were erected hothouses, where the grapes were climbing luxuriously, and

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putting forth clusters of future promise, while green-houses adjoining them displayed their verdant treasures, and breathed around a delicious fragrance. Mrs. Gell was coming out of her green-house when she discovered Charles, and heartily welcomed him. Mrs. Gell was one of those rare ladies who retain till an advanced age all the graces of youth, and who, by their engaging, polished and amiable manners, interest and delight all around them to the last. With a sweetness of voice and manners peculiarly her own, and a maternal kindness particularly encouraging, she invited him to enter the interesting abode, where sat Mr. Gell, the very reverse (if contrast ever existed) of Mrs. Gell; but with all the bluntness of a John Bull, there was a benevolent heart; his temper indeed, soured by peculiar disappointments, often provoked him to vent his spleen in a variety of ways, upon the government, upon modern manners and refinements, and sometimes by home strokes on some of the parties present; but withal there was so much blunt honesty, sincerity, and goodness in Mr. Gell, that his friends never quarrelled with him for any observation, however keen, as though they meant to say, this is your manner, but we pass it all over, because of the excellent virtues which you possess. That christian spirit, also, which Mrs. Gell and the, rest of her family and visiters possessed, triumphantly displayed itself in returning the most exemplary kindness for austerity, and the most polite observations or dignified silence for roughness and coarseness. My friend, John Gell, now entered, and with all the glow of friendship, and all the urbanity of the gentleman and the Christian, congratulated me on my arrival. Miss Gell soon after joined the party; she was about twenty-four years of age, her complexion beautifully chequered with the contending hues of the rose and lily; her countenance beaming with benevolence, her eye

casting the mild radiance of intelligence and kindness, while her voice was as gentle as the falling dew, and as musical as the tones of the harp; but the good sense, the spirit of piety and christian affection which appeared in all she said and all she did, seemed to engage the attention, and interest the feelings of all. ·

After making enquiries about Oxford, and Charles's pursuits there, the conversation turned on the important subject of sending missions to the heathen, a subject which then began to excite the serious consideration of the religious world. Mr. Kindly came in at this time, and most warmly entered into the subject. This gentleman had been the friend of a nobleman residing in the neighbourhood, and one of his hunting companions. He had a well-informed and cultivated mind; he had run, indeed, the circle of gaiety; he had seen the world in all its varieties: but had found true peace and pleasure only in religion. He shone in his circle as a star of the first magnitude. All respected Kindly; and his gay companions, whose society he had now relinquished, always mentioned his name with reverence and respect. "Who," said Mr. Kindly, "who can for a moment glance at the achievements of Christianity, and not feel it his duty and his privilege to encourage missions to the heathen? Lewdness and ferocity were the main pillars of heathenism and Ma hometanism. These Christianity throws down at once, for it undermines their very foundations. The gospel humanizes the heart of man-it makes pious minds, it gives affectionate hearts. Look at the heathen scowling on his enemies, and the Christian praying for them-look at the revolutionist, revelling in havoc and murder, and the infidel taunting at fear, and insulting wretchedness; look at the mere philosopher beholding human misery with indifference, and even total apathy; and then behold the