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- II. Ol'LIJ> 0 N : DAn.'rON &: C 9 HOLBORl'I B 1M

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THE MOUNTAIN PASTOR. BY MRS. HENRY LYNCH, A.UTHOR OP "MAUDE EFFINGHAM," "TlIB F"MTT,Y BUULCH BE," &c. &c .. The strength of the billtl is Ilia also."-PSALM XOV. LONDON: PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY DAR TON & CO., H 0 LBO R N H ILL. 1852

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TO TUB ltIGUT nONOURABLE rHl : DOWAGER COUNTESS OF SHA1"TESBURY, TillS LITrLE VOLU/E IS BY PERlUSSION INSCRIBED, AS A. SALL rOKEN OF SINCERE RESPECT, BY THE A UTHOlt. II 2

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...

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PREFACE. BY THE LORD BISHOP OF JAMAICA. AT the request of an authoress, not altogether un known to the literary and religious portion of the community, I am about to write a few lines as prefatory to the little volume which is, at the ap proaching season fraught with so many holy assoo ciations, submitted to the intelligence of a discerning public. Of the domestic occurrences in the magni1i.cent but stricken island which constitutes the principal portion of my extensive and distant diocese, little has been known or inquired into by the mother country. The shattered fortunes, severed ties, the ruined households, and the broken hearts which have, b

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, PREFACE. under God's inscrutable cOllDsels, been coincident with one of the noblest and most consequential acts that Christianity and philanthropy ever dictated, have passed with little record or observation, beyond the land which they have immediately affected .And yet to those who love to trace the hand of a guiding and protecting God over the humblest and most depressed of his creation-to those who delight to read the vindication of his unsleeping mercy in the history of families and individuals, on whom fear and sudden desolation have come, with all the fearful vicissitudes incidental to a tropical climate, and the transient state of our West Indian popu lations; these records of the "Mountain :Pastor" can scarcely fail to convey a vivid and edifying interest. Of the sustaining power of that holy religion which it is the main design of the following pages to instil and illustrate, the amiable and bereaved lady to whom I have adverted, is herself a striking example.

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pREFACE. A mid sorrows of a complicated nature, and cala mities of more than ordinary aggravation, she has been enabled by Divine assistance to realize the consolations which nothing but the Gospel of Christ can afford, and to ascertain by painful experience, that a Father of the fatherless, a Judge of the widow, is God in his holy habitation. The results of this experience and the lesson which it teaches, are bodied forth in all the appa rent truthfulness of deed and of reality, in the fol lowing pages. That these may be sanctified to the author's own temporal and eternal benefit, and to that of the readers to whom they are commended, is the part ing pmyer of one, who is now on the eve of embark ation on his return to the scenes which the authoress has beautifully delineated, and to his share in the labours which she has so feelingly described. AUDREY G. JAMAICA. 107, GLOSTER TERRA-OF., HYDE PARK. 1sT NoVRYBu, 1851.

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Snttobnrlorq tdter. CoVE away, dear young friends, come away from busy, exciting London its crowded streets, and stately squares; turn your backs on the Crystal Palace, that stands in itself a wonder, holding in its arms of glass the marvellous works of art; turn from the multitude, which can with difficulty be nnmbered, as they stand looking on the power, that God has given unto man: bid farewell to all thi s and for what purpose? to cross the trac kless ocean, and to scarch with mo in a far distant island of the West for the home of the Mountain Pastor. Up and away then into the highlands of the tropics. The rond is steep, and can only be ascended on horse back or on foot. The mountains, that, Itt a distance, D 3

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n lNTl
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TNTRODUCTORY LETTER. Vll stormy path; and the voice of those waters murmurs of Fame; of the powerful intellect that, making its way through difficulties, compels the world to admire, but that unwisely throws from it, in the haughty consciousness of superiority, the sweet breathIDgs of affection, the gentle ties of household love. There are bright days in the very heart of England's smoke-darkened capital; days, when the sun, awaking in a benevolent moo"d, throws scmethiDg of his glsd ness on every dreary alley and 1lDhealthy lane; when even the dark shadows of the dingy corner give by contrast a greater glory to the sunbeam; when from the very river banks the mist retreats discomfited that do not follow each other in bright succession, but that, few and far between, we prize as the friendless prize sympathy, or paupers gold. But how can wc describe the light and shadow of Jamaica's mvuntain scenery, where motion is beauty, where loveliness consists in change where sun beams and shadows, though of natures so opposite, lU'C sporting togother. Tho dull universal fog of

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INTRODuctORY LE'ITEJ!. V1ll England's November is there utterly unknown j but thick white cloude come rolling down the mountain aide, and stand tremblingly over the gigantic trees, refreshing but scarcely darkening the foliage. Now a beam is piercing that dim recess, and shadow is on the rock which, a little while ago, was radiant with light. The sportive sun-rays seem determined to convince us that they would lose their beauty if un associated with darkness, and we know that the loveliness of the Christian character is never more conspicuous than in the cloudy day of sorrow. This was a rema.rk of the Mountain Pastor's. Once more, then, up and away. Look at that tiny stream, ste-'lling almost noiselessly, with silvery foot steps, from the wooded height. Now we lose sight of it, but we know its way by the fresh verdure in its track-by the flowers that cluster on its very course. Its bed is of ferns: soft and beautiful, they try to lure the streamlet to rest amongst them; and we are reminded of gentle spirits of whom the world speaks not, whose brows the laurel chaplet has never circled, but whose glad bright looks of love give

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INTRODUCTORY IX home its sweetest influence; whose Dames ambition has never heard, but the drooping head is raised as they pass, and the mourner's eye glistens through its tears at the whispered accents of consolation. Now, dear friends, onward again, and higher, higher into the thrilling silence of those lofty mountn, ins on again To see a beauty in the stirring leaf, And find r.aJm thoughts beneath the whispering trees." But what trees? the delicate lilae and drooping laburnum? Not so; this wild forest land owns no such children. There are the feathery bamboo and the majestic yacca; the magnificent cedar, and the -gigantic cotton tree. How intense is the silence-ehow profound the solitude! Eternity seems stamped on all magnificence God "The strength of the hills is His! Look down the tremendous steep into that ravine the river-course below. In His hands are the deep places of the earth. Yes; who but the Mighty One could support by an invisible hand those stupendous trees as they bend from their

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fNTRODUCTORY LETfER. dizzy height over the steep chasm Here and there arc patches of rock-land, almost void of foliage, and yet on these very spots delicately-tinted flowers unfold their leaves, and arc to that sterilc ground as bright smiles and kindly words to the desolate. Onwards again, and higher. TW"ll and look down on the great swelling sea that seems to rise as it spreads into the far horizon, covered with light as with a garment, and the cloudless heaven stretched out as a curtain above, declaring the glory of God. Lock back on the mountains. No snows ever crown their summits. As well may the heart freeze into indifference under the warm bright looks of love, as frost find life beneath that tropic sun. Yet those fields of gleaming white, what are they? The air is filled with a rich perfume. Look again. We have an-ived at some coffee plantations, and the pure white blossoms clustering together make a field of shining pearls How delicately beautiful they stand; no stain of dust is on them, for the mountain rain has pwi.fied all within its influence. The dark

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INTRODUCTORY LETTER. Xl green foliage presents a striking contrast to the white flower; whilst underneath, the wild straw berries gI"OW in myriads, lured into life and strength ened by the shelter of those glossy shrubs: and SO the wounded and shrinking spirit will rally and revive under the sweet canopy of home! But the YOlmtnin Pastor's dwelling?On, on, through the deep wood shades. Day declines; we know it by the crimson tints that dye the dark Yahoo trees, as their boughs wave grace fully in the cooler air; we know it by the golden western light that the intertwining boughs cannot shut out, and by the fragrance of the night-flower, which the twilight in passing has awakened; we know it by the rich blazonry on the silken palm tree, and by the intense purple of tho mountain shadows. We me yet in time. In the very hemi of this world of solitude, with a halo of solemnity around it, and an ahnospherc of peace within, stands the Rectory. Come gently on. Twilight giveR up her short

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Xli INTRODUcrORY LETTER. reign, and night rapidly advances in all her jewellery of stars. We are not too late. There is a light in the pleasant library, and already we feel the spell of home. Now we must introduce you to the good old man. The silvery locks fall on his temples, but as spring flowers rise up and bloom round the tree that has looked on mnny winters, so grandchildren smile, a lovely band, round the Mountain Pastor, and call him blessed. That servant of the Lord has had a long pil grimage; but ask him, and he will tell you that he has not been desolate; ask hi m, and he will tell you of a Comforter who has been with him even the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive. The aged Pastor is now too feeble to engage in any ministerial duties. Nobly in the might of his Master he has borne the burden and heat of the day; and now that his strength is failing, still wishing to be useful, he has evening meetings in his piazza, and

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INTRODUcroRY LETtER. Xlll by relnting some of tbe occurrences of bis past life, be endeavours te convince the young around bim tbat those only are blessed wbo serve the Lord; that godliness witb contentment is great gain, having the promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is te come. We are not too late. We will take our scat by that low window, and wateh the land breeze sporting with the thousands of wild roses on its path, and stealing the fragrance from the starry jasmin. We will listen te the Mountain Paster as he relates his recollections of the past, and connected with all that is solemn and holy shall be our memories of the Mountain Land of Jamaica c

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THE MOUNTAIN PASTOR CHAPTER r. lh m rmhranm o f I AM It native of J Itmaica, and was not sent to England for school education till I was twelve years of age; but I had a very worthy gentleman as tutor, and I can never forget his patient efforts to make his instructions easy, nor his forbearance with my whims Itnd petulltnces, for I must own that I was, in some measure, a spoiled ohild Our general residence was in the lowlands, at a long flat house near the sea. I have at this moment cleal'ly before me the interior of that mansion There is our sitting-room-I mean the room appropriated to my tutor and myself. Ono window looks towards c 2

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2 RE>rElOlIUNCES OP the mountAins, over which the silvery mist is steal ing aa evening approaches, making them look morc distant but moro beautiful than ever The bats begin their gnm boIs in tho twilight, and the mos quitoes their low dirge. Now the sky is gorgeously red, and I look away to wateh my pigeons, whieh are soaring farther than ever, over the waate of caahaw trees, yet regularly returning, aa if spell-bound by the sight of home; and when I look at the western heaven again, the red haa vanished, all is dim and sombre I learned in after life that many bright things fade thus quickly. Then the stars peep out, at first timidly, but as if gathering courage from tho sight of each other, they grow bold and brilliant; and I have learnt since, blessed be God, that there is light for the darkest hour, if we but seek it, that comfort is promised in the heaviest aftliction. ]lut I waa telling you of the little room. There waa a low couch covered with blue damw, and at its side a small ottoman in the same dress. A mahogany table, with deep drawers, and some stAins of ink on its surface, stood almost in the centre of the room. Immediately above the couch was a small bookcase : this contAined all Mr. Maple's books. There were two broad shelves between the windows that faced the west, and there lay, not

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CHILDUOOD. 3 always as orderly as they should be, my school books, slates, &c. How distinctly at this moment I see it all before me. The door towards the balcony is always open I am so accustomed to the measured, melancholy chime of the waves, that my whispered lessons keep exact time to their voice of waters. Now Mr. Maple is lying on the sofa, with his dark blue morocco covered Pocket Bible in his hands. Sometimes he sighs deeply, and then again his whole face is illu minated with a smile, which, even then I know, is not kindled by any earthly joy. He is in commuDion with the Father of Spirits, and I walk gently to the window, through which a bold orange tree is peeping-the land breeze has awakened all its fragrance I play with the snowy blossoms till I am lost in thought. I wonder if my Aunt Davis is a Christian, and if she is, why she is in every respect so different from my tutor, for I have discovered something in him that speaks without language, and I can as easily tell that he is a servant of God, as, blindfolded, I should know that an orange tree is before me from its fragrance. But I have other memories of that old house. There is the hall, or large sitting-room, with its high-backed uncomfortable sofa, notbing like ours. The windows with their dark framework of maho-c 3

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4 REMEMBRANCES OF gany, and the heavy doors looking as if they required the united strength of the family to open them. 'fhere was the unceiled roof; and the walls, which went no farther than they could go in an upright position, seemed to be giving us all a lesson to stop in the plans we were pursuing, if we found that by continuing in any of them we should be compelled to act crookedly. The sideboard which has long been stationed at the end of this general sitting-room, with its ugly black faces, the large nose-rings in which constitute the handles of the drawers. It is early morning. Rutland, the boy groom, brings our horses to the door; my pony Dapper is impatient for its little master, and frolica and paws till we set off. MI. Maple always begins the day with a cheering word of kindness, and these are as dew to the youthful spirit. Off we go, cantering pleasantly down to the sea-shore. I had very seriously offended my Aunt Davis the evening before; she had actually left the room in indigna tion, muttering something about the inconsistency of those who professed to be Christians not keeping children under proper control, and I thought she looked at Mr. Maple when she said this, and I thought he colored, but I am sure he must have had good reasons for not interfering in this matter. My aunt's religion had ever seemed to me sometbing not

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CJI1LDRoon. 5 real; it was the imitation dress, looking very like that which it copies to a careless eye, but quite unable to stand the wear and tear of temptation, or the waters of trial, should they roll over it. .And this said dress never appeared to greater disad van tage than when, as on the present occasion, it came in contact with the ma, ntle of humility which Mr. Maple ever wore. A.unt Davis has an assured man ner, aud the very position of her head, though she may be silent, seems to tell you that whatever may be the fa, ilings of her associates, she cannot be very far in the wrong. Young as I am, I can discover this, and I take a delight in teazing her. Had Mr. Maple, on the morning of which I speak, angrily commanded me to apologize to my aunt, I think I should stubbornly have opposed his direc tions But to resist Mr. Maple was impossible. He had a way of winding himself round your affec tions, and such a convincing power in argument, which, however, was always maintained with the greatest gentleness, that you were borne on to his way of thinking by the current of his remonstrances, forcibly, yet almost imperceptibly. I have never since, on life's journey, met with anyone exactly like bim, and I do not think this was merely II childish estimate of his character.

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6 RE7.rElI[DRANCES OF Long before the ride is over, I am anxious to be reconciled to my aunt. Immediately on my return home I fly to her bedroom, and seek her forgiveness; she speaks kindly, says something about her willing ness to endure, and then bids me call Bunchy to get her chocolate, with its accompaniment of salt fish, for aunt Davis always breakfa.ts in her room. I t.hink I see her now, with her thick cap, round which a handkerchief is tied after the manner of the negroes, her full petticoat, and her short white dres8ing-gown, for you must recollect I am speaking of many years ago. She was much older than my mother, and, according to her own account, every thing had gone wrong with her from the commence ment of her pilgrimage. She had married, but had been long separated from her husband, and though my dear mother always carefully avoided any allusion to my uncle, yet I often heard almt Davis giving admonitions to my pretty cousin Annie to remain in single happiness. Sometimes Annie would look arehly at her, at other times she would blush so p9infully that I have playfully covered her face with her own little black apron. What a sunbeam that dear girl was to us all. I am sure that aunt Davis found happiness in the effort to be unhappy, or mther, I should say, it was !l great source of consolation to her if she BUC-

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l CBIT.DHOOD. 7 cceded in impressing anyone with the idea that she endured a sort of domestic martyrdom, and was unfortunately out of the station it wonld so halVe suited her to. fill. She was thoroughly uncom./;'ortable when all went on smoothly. She would begin the day by complaining to my mother that the household arrangements did not suit her. "If I managed these things, Mary," she would say, "all would be light." And when my pOOl' mother, in creole list lessness, would answer, "Well, Dinah, you are quite at liberty to do so," my aunt would assume the air of no ordinary sufferer, and reply, "No, sister; it is not my house; I am not mistress only a visitor!" as if it were my mother's fault that such were the case, and then she would swing her foot vehemently, in that peculiar way which only West Indians can understand, and wipe her eyes, (in which I remember there were no tears at all) with a white cambric pocket handkerchief. My poor aunt was only truly sad when she could find no listeners. I have known her tell a half civilized African, who scarcely understood a word of English, a whole tale of grievances. I think the sound of her own voice must at such times have been soothing to her, for even when she was walking alone in the piazza, I have caught the dissatisfied

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8 REMEMllRANCES o}' tone, and heard the murmur, "Not mistress, only visitor," &c. I cannot Bay my mother was idle, for she was continually plying her needl e How could she always find employment? There was an oval basket full of stockings ever at her side; these, half reclining on the uncomfortable couch, she would go on darn, darn, darn, for hours. Once, when I asked her what she thought of whilst thus employed? Literally nothing, sometimes," she answered; and then I was lost in contemplation, trying to discover if the mind could ever be unemployed. This would have been a monotonous life for me, had it not been for Mr. Maple and dear, laughter loving Annie, who continually spent a week or a fortnight with us. My Father I could not remember. He died when I was an infant, and it was a heavenly hand that led Mr. Maple to be my tutor. With him it was line upon line, and precept upon precept, here a little and there a little. The morning ride, the evening drive, all were made lessons by him to lead my young heart to its Creator. I knew, child as I was, that there were times when Mr. Maple loved his Redeemer with joy unspeakable. I well knew that, though many deridingly called him "saint,"

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CnILDHOOD. 9 mistaking, or rather trying to make others believe that they mistook his calm and quiet maDDer for hypocrisy, that all was real with him, and, though apparently so thoughtless, I had discovered that peace such as the world giveth not was his portion. Children thiDk much more than we imagine, and very often when I sat with my Latin Grammar in my hand, I was clearly tracing to myself the diffe rence between the reality of religion and its pro fession, and though I whispered the grammatical examples to myself, in exact measure with the chiming waves, the living examples of my theory were :Mr. Maple and aunt Davis. I remember well a sharp attack of fever that I had. My dear, dear, mother! .All her languor and listlessness forsook her, and she was immediately transformed into the unwearying, gentle, yet active nurse. The dingy room opens on the back piazza; the large four-posted bedetead, in which I seem small indeed; the high-backed dimity-covered chair, where my mother sits, with her aDxious sorrowful face. My cheeks am burning, my lips are parched, I hear the hurried beating of my heart, the doctor looks grave; I cannot lie in any position comfortably, every part of my body is in pain. Then dreams come half-waking dreams: there is danger, and my great desire is to have Mr. Maple near me. Do -

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10 ltEMEMIlRAlICllS OF I dream it, or does he tell me, there is One grroter than he, ablo and wilIing to saw to the uttermost all who come unto God through him. I try to look away from my fears to Jesus, and calmer visions steal over me, and again I fancy my dear tutor gently says, "I will strengthen thee, yea, I will help thee, yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. I think I must have slept for more than a day, for when I opened my eyes the grey light of morning was ste.ling into the room. My mother had fallen asleep at my side; she was still holding the large Spanish fan with which she had been endeavouring to k ee p the mosquitoes from me, and, with the deepening light, I saw that traces of tears werc on her pale cheeks I must have been a ehild of a contemplative turn of mind, for even then I was musing on the depths of a mother's love. Why had Ilunt Davis gone calmly to bed? why WM myoId nurse sleeping comfortably in her corner, whilst my mother had evidently not taken off her dress for many days? And even then my childish heart made answer, There is in all this cold and hollow world no fount of love 80 deep as that which springs within a mother's heart." The light seemed "!"ery slow in coming thllt morn-

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CllILDnOOD. 11 ing; it could not be weary, for my young thOUgllts had given it a rught of rest. I could just see, as I lay, the mountain tops in the distance, and there the lazy dawn seemed to linger, dressing their summits in all sorts of grotesque shadows. At length a sud den beam of golden light flares on the old-fashioned mirror, till it seems on flame; then, as if in a merry mood, the laughing sunbeam settles for a moment on the earrings of my sleeping nurse, the next instant it was coiling round the half-empty medicine bottles, transforming a dingy looking mixture into a bright rose-coloured draught. How long I should have watched its gambols I know not, but just at that mo ment my mother (awakened by the negroes who were passing under our windows on their way to work, merrily singing wild snatches of A mean song) hastened to give me some nourishment. I think I must haye slept again, for the next thing I remember is a strong sensation of hunger, and the chicken and jelly of which hy turns I ravenously partook. Mr. Maple prays with me, and in that solemn thanks giving I feel that my mother is earnestly joining. I had never seen her so moved before, and during that day, whilst I was lying with my eyes shut, I was much struck by the humble way in which she applied to Mr. Maple for instruction concerning some passages from myoId brown Bible, which slJe D

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12 llEMEYJlllANC>:S OF had been attentively reading. I could not, at that time, have put my thoughts in words, but I am sure I was reflecting in my childish way, how anxiety and trial were used as messengers to bring us to God. My memory presents very faithfully to me aunt Davis, as she walks in and out of my room, taking up the watch and putting it down agajn, opening the Venetians and closing them rapidly when she found how painfully the sudden light affected me; beginning many sentences and leaving allllnfinished; giving orders to the nurse in It clear loud whisper, you might bav e heard at the other end of the house, and which orders my nurse kn ew, from long expe rience, it would be us eless to tell her had been before given by my mother. Poor aunt Davis! Then she bustles out of the room, with a startling Hush!" to the girl who is very quietly and lazily rubbing the floor, convinced, I am quite cert.a.in, that her excessive vigilance, and the quiet she has kept in the establishment, although she is not mis tress, but ouly a visitor, has preserved my life. I know, by all these signs, that I must be progressing in health, for I will do my aunt the justice to say, that whilst I was considered in any danger, real concern for me kept her in the background. I tbink, bowever, tbat she comes forward now with increased

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CII n,DllOOD. 13 energy, refreshed and strengthened by the relaxatioll she has had. "Mary," she says, as she makes the sixth forenoon entry into my devoted bedchamber, If I were you, I would do what Dr. Parry ad vised, and write on tho slate all the medicines that were to be given." "Charlie is ouly taking bark at pre sent," replies my mother, with a great effort at composure. I always fancied my aunt breathed louder than anyone else, and as she places her hand heavily on my forehead I feign sleep, and would have persevered in this deception had I not been forced to open my eyes by the sudden gripe she gives my wrist as she proceeds to feel my pulse. "Mamma," I said, restlessly and pettishly, for I was beginning to be weary of the confinement of that dark chamber, "Mamma, may I have my paint-box if I om bettor to-morrow? I connot forget the expression of my aunt's faco when I made this request. It was angry, and solemu, and diadainful. "You are still on the very threshold of eternity," she said, and I fancied she anxiously looked for some expression of alarm on my countenance, and that being disappointed, she went on more gently to add, "and it grieves me to find that your mind still runs on trillas such as thesc There is inftammntion about you at this moment. 1) 2

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14 REMEMBU.\NCES 0 .1:< Indeed, Mary," she continued, turning to my mother, he must not have bark." .And all this conversation was carried on with a rapidity of which none but those who knew aunt Davis could form any idea. She spoke of my attack of fever as lwr sorrow, luJr afHiction; my mother' 8 uneasiness, my own discomfort, never once came into the mental calculation in which selfwas always prominent. "These trials are for my good," she would Bay. "We r.annot expect to go on smoothly in this world;" and she certainly was a striking exemplification of her own assertion, for she trampled down the flowers on her path, and then .. murmured that her way was cheerless. I have never been able to find out why she was always in such distress. I rem embe r on this occasion, when my mother p ers isted in giving me the bark, which she affirmed to be really necessary, the conversation ended by my aunt assuring me, that she was not the mistress of the house, only a visitor, and when she left the room her cough had the peculiar tone which I knew meant" Never mind; I ean bear it! " Ma.mma," I said, as my aunt's murmurings grew faint in the distant piazza, "I do wish aunt Davis were not a Christian." My mother expressed her surprise at the uncharitable feeling I had expressed. It suits her so badly to be religious," I continued. "We all have faults, Charlie," said my mother

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CIII I.DaOOD. 15 soothingly, "and I suppose your aunt finds it diffi cult all at oncc to become amiable, but I must confess I know little of these matters," and she sighed deeply. My dear mother! She might indeed have doubted the reality of that piety which so entirely left out of its code the charity that is not easily provoked. She might have said, "lly their fruits ye shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Mr. Maple had quietly entered during this conver sation. 'raking his seat at tho foot of my bed, he looked at mo thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, "When there is no earnest, secret cry to the Mighty One for aid in the hour of temptation, when there is no effort in the strength of the great High Priest to resist the besetting sin, we have every reason to fear that we have not entered on the con flict of the Christian lifo; but, my dear Charlie," he said, looking tenderly at me, "you will find plenty of work to do within your ow n heart without making it your employment to discover the sins of those around you. The same spirit that tells us to put away strife, enjoins us to be pitiful and to hope all things." And there was, as I have before observed, something so convincing in all this holy man said, that by the time my aunt n.,"1Iin made her appearance, D :3

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16 REMEMBRllICES OF I aID sure I greeted her with one of my sweetest smiles. Then I have other recollections of this time of childhood. The hot months we generally spent at one of our mountain estates, named Mount Orchard. I was always very happy there. It might have been that the cooler air in a measure refreshed me: this cer tainly was the case, but Annie, joyous Annie, was the living spirit of our happiness. Oh, what a con trast there was at our little dinner-table-Aunt Davis sitting on one side, and Annie opposite to her. I have often wondered that no visible ra.in bow appeared, for it certainly was sunlight sbining on cloud, and a rainy cloud, too, for th e least contradic tion would sometimes cause Aunt Davis, in a sort of childish petulance, to shed tears. Annie always accompanied us in our morning rides, and her gladness of heart seemed to Mr. Mapl e as a reviving cordial. It was not levity, but a grateful, thankful feeling that was within her spil-it, as a perennial spring running over and miling all glad witl)in its invigorating influence. It is quite impossible to give you any idea of the brilliant expression that lighted up her eye when Mr. Maple spoke of the lov e of God in Christ. It seemed to tell you t.hat she had tasted the Lord was gracious.

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cnn.nnOOD. 17 The very expression of her face said, as plainly as words could say, "It is a good tiring to give thanks unto the Lord In very early life she had been satisfied with His mercy, and therefore she rejoiced and Wa3 glad all her days. That wild mountajn scenery is still vividly before me. The intensity flf solitude pervades all around. One or two stars still linger on the sky, but the shadows flee away before the gradually advancing morning. Now there is high rock land on each side of our path, and before us are the everlasting bills. Row solemn sounds Mr. Maple's voice as he says, "The mountains may depart, imd the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord, that hath mercy on thee." Then again we are in more open country, and we look on the distant soo, far, far below us. I seem at this moment to hear the whispering wood sounds around the mysterious voice of the forest. The red morning is steeping the east in crimson, but though solemnized and subdued in spirit by the magnificent scenery, my thoughts are neither with wave nor sky. Of what are you thinking, Charlie?" kindly asks Mr. Maple. I start as if roused from a dream; lind no wonder

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18 REMEunRANCES OF my tutor makes this inquiry, for I feel that tears are in my eyes. I could not, indeed, fathom my own feelin,,"'S, but of this I am certain, that as we paused there, looking down on the far-spreading mountain land below us, and the distant ocean, I had a strong boding that sorrow was silently spreading its wings over our home happiness. This was not super stition; it was merely that feeling of insecurity that sometimes forces its way into the heart when we are resting on any earthly prop of comfort. Just at this moment suddenly above the golden crested mountains, rises the glorious SU11Not, as in northcrn climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light. It is true, thero were clouds all around, but clouds so refulgent in the glorious beaming, that they but added to the grandeur and beauty of the scene. The effect was beyond all description The deep glailes were rejoicing in the sunbeams freely scattered over them, whilst the luxuriant foliage immediately around us, and palms and ferns in myriads wore dew-drops as pearl gems in which to welcome the morning. The arid plains in the distant lowlands seemed to bear some part in the universal gladness, and to smile in the rejoicing light, whilst the far

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OR II.DnOOD. 19 mountains had woven of the new-born mys a vest ment of rose and purple. "Thus," said Mr. Mapl e to Annie, "does the Sun of Righteousness arise with healing 00 bis wll,,"'8, enlig htening the dark h eart of man, and making lovely even the des ert W08te of life. The sun gemmed clouds are emblems of the sorrowful heart that r e flects the imag e of its Moster, the light aft\ic tion is almost forgotten in the radiance of the lov e that encircles him; the dew-drop becomes the glis tening gem, the night of weeping lends new beauties to the glories of the morning. I am already preach ing a sermon," he smilingly said. Then the sudden gun was distinctly heard, a8 if its tone were neces sary to proclaim that the sun had risen! We had already lingered longer thaD usual on our morning excursion, and pleasantly we cantered hom e At this moment I seem to hear the mnsical tone of my cousin's laughter. Oh! why did sorrow ever d a rken those happy hours? nut the shadows have passed away. Dearest Anni e with gladness and r e joicing she h08 entered into the King's palace. I am, however, rnnning on too f08t with my tale. During lesson h ours what c hildish stratagems I emp loy e d to d etain Annie in the portico which we used 08 school-room. On hcl' \\'ay from her bed-

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20 ltEHEYBRANCES OF room to the hall she was obliged to pass through this our little study. Sometimes I would entreat her to sec if my 8um were all right. Yr. Yaple would at first make an effort to be particularly engaged, but he would suddenly discover that we were both at fault in our arithmetical calculations, and then some favourite author would be discussed. Oh, what a happy little listener I was! I am sure that children often receive more in struction in this way than from a regular lesson. Annie's parents were living in Kingston, and it was to escape from the gaiety and dissipation there that she so often visited hcr friends in the country. She was sought after and much admired., for indeed she was exceedingly lovely, but with those who were of tho world she felt no eongeniality. No marvel, then, that a strong attachment should spring up between my beloved tutor and the thankful confiding Annie. I do not know which of the two claimed the largest share of my childish admiration Annie, with her soft intelligent eyes, and heavenly smilefor at times it certainly was illuminated by the Christian's hope, or Mr. Yaple, ,vith his pale, kind, grave face and earnest look. I believe I respected my tutor more than any other being on earth, and I

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CIDLDROOD. 21 om convinced that had I not discovered how Annie prized and valued him, she would not have been half so dear to me. About this time, too, aunt Davis was an unwearied intruder iato our little room. Oh, how patiently Mr. Maple bore her iacursions! Sometimes she would actually take his place on the couch, and remonstrate with him concerning a certaia stoop which she declared I had, but which, I believe, was visible to no one else. Standiag agajnst the wall she proposed as a remedy for this defect, and because Mr. Maple, busy over my delectus, does not imme diately attend to her suggestion, she stalks out of the room, coughing portentously, and sayiag, "If I were mistress of the house I am oply a visitor," was breathed forth to the empty piazza. There was a deep sort of ravine immediately below the mountaia on which our house was situated, where many large mango trees clustered, laden with their golden fruit; Avocado pear trees weI'e thickly iaterspersed amongst them, and star apples hung ia clusters from their own dark boughs. We were all fond of mangoes. This is quite a creole taste, for the English have, in general, a par ticular aversion to this fruit If I missed Annie in the evening, I was sure to find her-naughty girl!-committing depredations amongst the mango trees.

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22 'BE!EMBRANCES OF One afternoon, I particularly remember, I was bounding down the grecn hill towards her, when I observed her in quiet yet earnest conversation with Mr. Maple. Yes, it is clearly to me still, though mnny years have passed away since that time, and the fretful and the happy, the earnest and the sorrowful-all, all have laid them dow u, and the clods of the valley cover them; their love !tnd their hatred, their joy and their sorrow, is pel'illhcd with them. I ouly Bm left of all that mountain party, and I believe in my breast alone remains any remem brance of anything that they did under the sun. But, as I was aaying, I remember everything con cerning that evmJing. The sky wore that look of softness peculiar to it after a heavy morning rain. The sunset's gold WIlB paler than UBUal, and there was 'the deepest purple but little cl'imson on the wootern horizon. Have you ever noticed Do child called from weeping to join in sudden mirth? Some thing that is not sadness, yet very nearly allied to it, rests on that child's face, and we see the tear on the cheek, whilst laughter echoes from the lips. On this evening nature wore just such It face. The rain-drops W
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CD II.DROOD. 23 and the breeze bore it on to the distllIlt woodland, aU down to the river-side. The wild senna trees, too, how their lovely blossoms tossed the sparkling rain-drops from them, like the scornful beauty throw ing disdainfully from her human affection. The fog was beginning to rise. I believe this early life amidst such scenery tinged my thoughts even then with romance, for I remember thinking how deli cately beautiful was the silvery mist, as it fantasti cally dressed the monntDins in its own airy lightness. As I sit qniotly on the bank watching all this, those words, "What is yonr life? it is even as a vaponr !" keep chiming on my thoughts. There is somat .hing so serions in my tutor's man ner, and so nnusually grave in Annie's way of listening to what ho says, that I do not like to interrupt them. There stands Annie, in her white dress and purple velvet shawl, that she was accustomed to throw over her shoulders in the evening, with the very look that she always wore when I spoke of my tutor as being superior to anyone else. Her happy face was as a window, letting in the rays of hope and S1Jmmer light on the more thoughtfally moulded mind of my tutor. He had been lately ordained, and, I knew, was ere long, to hold (\ living in the northern part of the island. E

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24 REM..ErtrnRANCES OF As I am thus musingly sitting on my quiet bank, I bear voices in the little portico which is just above US: There, Mary," said my aunt Davis to my mother, "look at Annie and Mr. Maple there is certainly too much profession about that man." Oh, how my little heart beat with indignation. "My motte is," continued my aunt, '" let all things be done decently and in order.' I ask you, is that correct?" Dinah," replied my mother, in her slow gentle way, "we must not blame Mr. Maple if he have become attached to our sweet Annie." My aunt then said a great deal in a querulous tone, which I did not hear, but how plajnly I did hear the stately tread and the ominous cough; and "Not mistress of the heuse, only visitor," died on my ear as the land-breeze came down from the moun tajns, just the same then as it does now, whispering, whispering on, as if with love and sorrow, change and death, it had some mysterious connexion, and passing on before us we knew not whither. That evening Annie had a long conversation in the back piazza with my mother, and it was decided that my cousin was to retrrrn to Kingston, early in the next week. We all missed her sadly Even Aunt Davis had the manner of one looking about for

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cnn.nHOOD. 25 something she could not find, and Mr. Maple was Wl able to conceal his anxiety for the arrival of the post. Well, several weeks passed, dUling which time my mother was making arrangements for my return to England. Mr. Maple became very sad, and aunt Davis more fidgety thau ever I remember I well knew, though indeed I can not tell how, that my dear mother was advancing in the Christian life, and lance overheard her say to Mr. Maple, "I was not sorrowful, but there was a yearning in my heart for something I could not find, my soul was unsatisfied; now' I t.hink, in some degree, I do turn to my Saviour, and he never sends me empty away -what love to one so undeserving! Indeetl, my mother seemed altogether changed. There was continually a placid smile on her counte nance; the letting out, as it were, of the peace ,vithin; and it remained steadfast, too, that tranquil look, even under a shower of sharp words from my aunt, as if kept there by an invisible hand. Mr. Maple is graver than ever His bible, if possible, is more continually his study. We return to the Lowlands, and many more quiet weeks roll on. The sea chimes regularly as ever. My lessons are continued, and then my mother goes to town, and returns in triumph with A nnie. I E 2

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26 RllMEMllRANCES o}' think the Sllnligb t of her glance was dimmed, or rather, I should say, softened, for her countenance had lost none of its beautiful expression, and I felt, from the cheerful tone in which she welcomed me, that hope was strong within her. Mr. Maple and Annie sat together all that even ing, and whilst my mother looked as if she had some new source of enjoyment, aunt Davis became so un comfortable because no one was noticing her, that after coughing ineffectually for some time, to draw from us exclamations of pity, she called" Bunchy," and retired to her bedroom. Yet there she could not remain. She returned twice to tell us there would surely be an earthquake, and I overheard Annie whisper to Mr. Maple, "I wonder she does not say, 'If I were mistress of the house, no such convulsion of nature should disturb us.''' Mr Maple looked at her for a moment, as if inclined to say something in reproof, but that smile conquerecl, and he only looked gravely, and I fancied somewhat pitifully at her. It was at this time that I observed a peculiar expression about my tutor's face. A superstitious person would have said it told he was not long for this world. It was a look which plainly showed that his spirit at times rose on the win,,""B of a realising

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OffILDnOOD. 27 faith, far above earth and its I11Jxieties, aye, and its affections, too, to be where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God. I surlllised that all was right agajn, and wishing to show that I had some knowledge of thc state of things, I plucked some of our school-room orange blossoms, and pushed them amongst Annie's long tair curls. She kissed me affectionately, aDd asked me the next morning if I would promise to be at her wed ding? Oh how delighted I was! I skipped about the old room in my glee, and told Annie, with an air of great sagacity, that it would be no common hap piness always to be with Mr Maple But enough of all this Aunt Davis continued to find a thousand cases in which if she were mistress of the house, and not only a visitor, things would go on much better-truly, if 8M had ruled, the bridal day would never have arrived. How carefully I dressed on that eventful morning. I tied my dark bltle neckerchief, I have no doubt, with consummate skill, and my jacket was as glossy as my shining locks. Well, mamma and aunt Davis went in the large carriage, whilst I sat, full of importance, by deal' Annie's side in the phooton. Mr. Maple was to meet us at the church.

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28 llBMEl\UJRANCES OF The sun rose that morning on the cloudless sky llS if care had nothing to do with life; as if sorrow nover even looked on human affection. Row well I recollect Annie's pale face llS she en tered the church! I thought she had forgotten her smile, but no-she looked timidly at Mr. Maple, aud there it was, although subUued and chastened by trembling and fear, those handmaids on every approach to earthly happiness Annie's parents were both present at the wedding. I cannot tell why, but I was impressed with the idea that they had reluctantly consented to this mamage. The church is still before me: a low, barn-like looking place. At the altar mils, which are newly built of cedar, they are kneeling side by side, Mr. Maple and A Ilnie. The feeling of Annie's good fortune in being llDited to Mr. Maple was uppermost in my mind. Dear girl, much as I loved her, the idea of his happiness in possessing such a treasure never once occurred to me. Now Mr. Maple's face wears the expression of which I have before spoken, and for a moment or two, even at this time, he seems to be far away from the world, from its love, its sorrow, and all belonging to it. Then I hear the low "Amen," and the service is over.

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cnu.nnOOD. 29 This time, my seat is by aunt Davis, for Mr. Maple and Annie drive on together in the phooton. Aunt Davis troubles me sadly by pinning up her gown, that it might not be injured by the dust, for it was the very dress she had worn at my mother's wedding, and, as I saucily observed, sho might one day wear at mine. I am commissioned to hold sundry small pins whilst she is thus occupied, and then I am to cany her bro wn holland bag, and carefully, too, for it contains a bottle of eau de Cologne and a small phial of rcd lavender j this latter was a cordial which my aunt found necessary on all exciting occasions. She will not allow me quietly to follow the train of those mournful thoughts which neces sarily belong to a wedding, inasmuch as it is almost always connected with some painful separation. "Take care, Charlie, the bottles are striking together," she exclaims. "Of what are you think ing, Charlie ?-tho umbrella is in my eye!" for although there had been no rain for some time, wc were obliged to use umbrellas as shields against tho dress-destroying dust. Right glad was I when we were once more in the pleasant shade of the large hall. It was a checrful party, that second breakfast. I tried hard to forget that Mr. Maple was nevcr more to be my tutor j that our pleasant mornings in the

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30 REMEMBRANCES OF little library were henceforth to be but a remem brance. Even aunt Davis, in the sober cheerfulness of that bridal party, seemed to forget that she was but a visitor. Only once I heard her say, "If I were mistress, these tbings should not be," but I believe, from long habit, that the sentence escaped her involuntarily-there was no angry emphasis in the words on this happy day. The negroes were vociferous on this occasion. ""'WT>.hat they had to do with the matter I cannot tell, and I do not tbink they exactly knew themselves, but wine and silver threepences a coin current in J runaica-were freely given to them, and they felt bound in gratitude to express their thanks as noisily as possible. The lun cheon is over; Annie retil"es to exchange her bridal for a travelling dress. She pauses at the door, and with bright sparkling happiness gleaming on her sweet young face, "Charlie," she says, as she stoops and kisses my forehead, "the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places-my cup runneth over." In the listlessncss of heart which was already beginning to follow the unusual excitement I had undergone, I stroll in the piazza, afraid even to look at the door of Oill' little study. Who gallops down the 10llg a,enue? I recognise him by his beautiful

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cnU.DHOOD. 31 bl(lck horse. It is Arthur Lochane. He is too late for the wedding, but he may yet see Annie, whom he has not met for years. He may yet wish her happiness as the bride of another who was once the starlight of his boybood. So unselfish is his affection, that with genuine sincerity he grasps Mr. Maple's hand, and congratulates him on the prize he has won. A keen observer might have perceived something like llgitation in Arthur's manner, but it soon passes away, and he is composed as ever as he stands by Mr. Maple, who is admiring the glossy coat of the spirited black horse. How elegant is the curve of its arched neck, as, impatient of restraint, it paws the ground. Arthur is very fond of his horse, and he draws Mr. Maple's attention to the good expression of its eye W hiM they are thus engllged, my pet fawn makes its escape, and bounding immediately before the noble "nim al, causes it to rear and turn round, so that its fore legs come in sudden and violent contact with Mr. Maple's chest. He sank on the steps, whilst the blood streamed from his mouth. Annie, who saw the acoident ft'Om the window,

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32 REMEMD" "NOES OF hastens towards him, and the deep crimson stain covers her loosened bridal robe. There are some sudden woes that do the work of years in a morning! Row was that fair girl altered! "As a tempest of ra.in and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty waters overwhelming," had that sorrow come upon her. Mr. Maple had fainted, and it was With much difficulty that we conveyed him to the sofa b the dear study where we had spent many happy hours. What a meeting for Arthur! Annie was so absorbed in the intensity of anguish, that she did not seem to know he was present She neither spoke, nor wept, nOlO sighed. All the strength of her grief was concentrated in the earnest, lIDmoved gaze that she kept fixed on Mr. Maple's pallid face. He slowly opens his eyes, and they rest on Annie. Oh, the lIDutterable tenderness of his loving look! He was too much exhausted to speak, but I know had he been able to express himself at that moment, he would have said to the trembling girl," Be strong, fear not; I, the Lord, am with thee -I, the God of Israel, will not forsake thee." Tho negroes expressed their sympathy by groans

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onrLDllOOD. 33 and lamentations of the most terrible and uncouth nature. Annie was almost maddened by the turmoil, and we could, neither by threats nor persuasions, induce them to be qniet. It was two hours before the doctor arrived. Mr. Maple was removed into his bedroom, and the son-o'l"iul bride becomes the tender and loving nurse. I shall never, through life, forget the sudden change from that day of feasting to the house of mourning. We eould scarcely realize it. There had been no anticipated sorrow-no twilight to prepare us for the unexpected darkness The mid night of anguish had come in, as it were, on the day, and put out the rejoicing sun And then it was peculiarly trying to see Annie wrapped in the dark garb of sadness. There are some methodical characters, so sober even in happiness, that when affiiction settles on them, its inroads are, at all events, for some little time, scarcely perceptible. :But Annie! our sunbeam our morning: Annie-the echo of whose silvery laughter ran through our long halls; whose smile left glad ness with the son-owful, and whose very tone en couraged the despondent-to see her moving noise lessly about, with silence on her lips and son-ow ou her brow, this was grief indeed.

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34 RE1EMBRANCES OF I was sometimes admitted into my loved tutor's room. Dear Mr. Maple; there wue the expression of which I have before spoken, stronger and plainer than ever; and, child as I was, I knew, that though fondly affectionate towards Annie, his soul was longing to be with him, whom having not seen, he loved. Arthur soon left us. He could have witnessed Annie's happiness, but he could not endure to see her souow I have still an indistinct recollection of dreary days-that little forsaken library haunts me yet. I had no lessons to learn. There I sat, trying to make the loud ticking of the old clock keep time with the music of the waves. At length there was a whispering in the house, and then J amba, the cook, and Prince, the butler, literally began to howl. Dr. Parry came out, and for a time commanded silence; but my bedroom was prepared for Annie, and then I knew that all was over-my beloved tutor was never more to meet me in our pleasant study Annie's life in its morning was darkened, for he had gone home. This was the way in which she first touchingly mentioned her sorrow to me. I remember a low grave under a spreading sand box-tree, with my tutor's name on the rough stone.

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ClI1LDnOOD. 35 Aunt Davis grew much more amiable after this sad event. I do not recollect ever again hearing her say that she was only a visitor, though once or t,vice sbe told me, with real humility, that she felt shc was a stranger and a pilgrim upen earth. She learnt at length to look beyond things seen for happiness, and how wonderful was the change, such indeed as might bo deemed almost incredible by those who know nothing of the satisfying and peace bestowing nature of true religion. The tone of murmur was for ever hushed, nay was lost in the sweet song of praise, so true it is that when, by the Spirit of Adoption we are enabled to say, "Father;" when we can view tho smallest circumstanoos as being controlled and ordered by Him who careth for us, trivial discomforts ccase any longer so to irritate us; a my from the better land has fallen on our way, and seeing in the far distance the gates of the Celcstial City, we look upwards and forget the thorns of those petty annoyances in anticipation of tho glory which shall be revealed. My mother lived many years after Mr. Maplc's death, growing in grace and in the knowledge of her Lord and Saviour; but Annie, in the flush of her youth, was called away, and I could not mourn for her, but whenever I henr the whispering land breeze, or the measured roll of the waves, I think of F

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36 REMEMllRANCES OF ClIILDlIOOD. that happy room and my beloved tutor, and I try to remember the laughter-loving Annie as ahe was when untouched by sorrow. At all events, this hope I have, that again our home circle will be made complete in the land where Death and Woe will have nothing more to do with earthly affection.

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CHAPTER II. l (,parnrffr 3llinnq. I NEVER can forget Mr. Walker He was an eccen tric being, and yet many such characters were, I believe, found from time to time, some years ago, amongst the semi-civilized inhabitants of Jamaica's mountain land My friend Mr. Campbell had just arrived from England, and he sent me a pressing invitation to run down to his estate for two or three days. I arrived in the afternoon, and I found he was expecting some gentlemen to dine with bim at seven o'clock. We were talking over old times when, after a little unusual bustle in the piazza, a negro boy ran in, with a short driving whip in his hand, and, with a laugh in which I am sure all his very white teeth joined, said, "M886a, Buckra come," and before we had time to make any inquiries 88 to the name by F 2

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38 A CHARACTER. which this buckra was distinguished from buckrns genernliy, a fine looking old gentleman walked into the room, with loaded pistols in his hand, pointed towards us. Mr. Campbell persuaded him to place these on the table, and then introduced him to me as Mr. Walker. I cannot forgot his wild look, his neglected hair, his bluc coat, with its large Hat gilt buttons, his white waistcoat, and untidily folded cravat. My first feeling was that of astonishment that such an uncouth being should not only be permitted as a guest, but actually welcomed as a friend. lIow my heart afterwards condemned mo for this thought. I found he was continually haunted by the idea that his life was sought by the negroes around bim. It was with great difficulty that Mr. Campbell had obtained from him a promise to remain that eveDing, for he seldom left home. Ris manners were a strange D1i ture of eccentricity, bordering on actual rudeness, and the polish of a well-bred gentleman. lie attached himself to mo throughout the evening, from a likeness which he insisted that I bore to his son Tom. There was something very melancholy in his con versation. It was the wreck of a great mind, and by thc really beautiful thoughts which momentarily appearod on the surface, you wero reminded how

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A CHARACTER. 39 much was sunk in the wide sea of opportunities lost and time mispent. And then the restless unquiet of his eye WIl8 most painful. If a servant came into the room, Mr: Walker looked towards his pistols, as if he longed again to have them in his possession; indeed, the whole tone of his conversation was to conviuce us that even the most harmless of our attendants were lying in wait to kill him. I thought it must neces sarily be monomania, but Mr. Campbell assured me that his mend's mind was unimpaired: it was the very secluded life which for more than fifty years he had led that had given rise to these suspicions. Throughout dinner I observed that he raised his plate to his nose every time it was replenished, to detect if poison had been put therein; and whcn he retired to his bedroom, oh, what preparations of defence were made against a midnight attack. A ... sword was put across the foot of his bed, and a pair of loaded pistols were careful! y placed under his pillow. And then to see his travelling apparatus, as it stood at the door the next morning. What a pic ture it would have made! There was a little old gig, with very high wheels, to which two half starved horses were attached by ropes, tandem fashion. The effect of all this was heightened by F 3

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40 A CIUR.iC'rER. the air with which Mr. Walker gave orders to his outriders, a couple of rugged boys on mules, to "keep ahead of bim." "They would shoot me in the back," he knowingly observed to me, "if allowed to lag behind." With the ease and assurance of an "excellent whip," he took his seat on the old hassock which served as cushion, and was turned upside down, that the most presentable part might meet the public eye, and in the style of a gentleman whose equip. ments were first-rate, he waved us his adieux. Oh, what a bustle there was, when he in reality set off. The smallest outrider was left far behind, and I saw Mr. Walker, when he turned round, in stinctively put his hand upon his pistol. The port manteau had almost slipped from the mule, and the mule seemed determined to slip from its rider, for it stood still and kicked, as if protesting vehemently against associating too intimately with such a master; then, as if it had suddeuly changed its mind, flew off with a speed which well uigh upset Smudge," for such was the name of the little stable-boy, raised on this occasion to the ronk of outrider. Mr. Campbell proposed a visit to Mr. Walker the following evening, and appeared much to enjoy my surprise at his partiality for this uncouth being.

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.l CHARACTER. 41 During the drive, as might have been expected, our conversation was principnlly of Mr. Walker, when I asked if he had any ideas of religion? "All approach to serious conversation," said Mr. Campbell, "he connects by some mysterious associa tion of memory with his daughter Minny, who died of fever some two or three years ago. His eldcst child, now Mrs. Bartley, was as self willed and violent as her father. Hers was a run away match, and she had much difficulty to effect her escape This, however, she achievcd by setting the house on fire as she made her exit, and whilst her father was entirely occupied in quelling the fiames, and in endeavouring to discover which of his negroes had been the perpetrator of this act, she had leisure, unmolested and unobserved, to accompliRh her escape. "Bella, the youngest daughter, is a wild creature; you ,vill, I have no doubt, see her this evening. She can use the currycomb to a horse, or saddle it, and seems quite in her element when in the atmos phere of the stable. lfinDy sprang up between them, a delicate and gentle being, fair as a lily, and painfully nervous from the sec lud ed life she led. Hers was indeed a most interesting case. She found an old pocket bible in a negro hut; sho tw'lled over its pages, and

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42 A CHARACTER. became so interested in their contents, that she pur chased the treasure, and returned home to read throughout the night that sacred volume. She told me that at this time she had never even heard of the Gospel plan of salvation. She knew that Jesus was the Son of God, but she was altogether ignorant that through Him only she conld approach the Father. 'God giveth His Holy Spirit to them that ask bim,' she said; 'r read the Blessed Saviour's words -" Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, r will give it you," and my instantaneous prayer was, "Give me thy Holy Spirit for the sake of Jesus Christ." Oh, how, in its beautiful freedom and sim plicity, the plan of salvation opened upon me; whilst the sufferings of the Son of God caused me to see the exceeding sinfulness of sin; the fulneBB of the redemption that was in Christ Jesus enabled me at length to say, "From Him cometh my salvation." She had never met even with a professor of religion till she became acquainted with me. She had no technical terms, no peculiar mode of phraseology. She had never been able to attend a place of public worship, for there was not one for miles round, but at the crimson fall of day the bamboos at the river side had been witnosses of her earnest prayer, and, amidst that disorderly and complajning household,

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A ClIAllAC'l'ER. 43 she moved with gladness in her hcnrt and peace in her bosom. }finny was far advanced in the Christian lifo, but knew it not. Love to Him who had done so much for her was the pervading feeling of her soul. Her childlike confidence, her simple trust in her Redeemer, so unmarred by doubt of any kind, spoko in a reproving voice to many a far-famed Christian of the present day. At one time, her father lost, through the failure of a house in "England, many thousand pounds, and was, consequently, obliged to make a home of the miserable abode in whieh you will find them this evemDg. I was with them at the time of their removal. The house they had left was large and commodious, though in a most desolato part of the country Yr. Walker was morose and severe; his wife was in tears; Bella was murmuring and dispirited, whilst Minny smilingly and quietly glided in and out amongst them. Now she was tastefully arranging some ornamental shells on the low table; then she was affectionately whispering to her papa, We shall soon make all comfortable,' and pushing her smull white hands playfully through his silvery hair. 'Minny,' I softly said, 'how is it that you alone are happy?

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44 A cnARACTER. Oh, you forget, Mr. Campbell,' she said; and then, lowering her voice to the softest tone, how touchingly she added, '" Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." The Bible alone had been her study. She had never read any book on theology-commentaries she had never heard of; the Word of God was the light to her feet, and the lamp to her path, and the entrance of those words had given understanding to the simple. She had not received the spirit of bondage, the language of adoption was hers, and she cried Abba, Father! I am persuaded that nothing could have separated her from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. There she went on, from day to day, delighting in the law of God, yet warring a,,"'Rinst the law of her mind. And all this hidden life, this internal conflict, she carried on alone no, not alone, for the Father loved her; the Lord looked down from heaven on this precious one, and very often, in the midst of that divided family, led her by the still waters of heavenly consolation. What a changed creature she became; changed altogethcr in manner, for self had been in a great

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" CllAD 'OTER. 45 measure cast down, nnd goodwill towards mnn flourished in its place. Chnnged, too, she was, even in appearance, for the meekness of heavenly wisdom shone in her smile, and you could see by her whole deportment that the Refiner had been with her. Her sisters laughed at her; her mother forbad her to mention in her presence the subject of religion; only to her eccentric father did she dare occasionally to speak of her inward source of happine88. "Oh, how her heart of tendrils clung to the pro mises! She never said, 'I have been reading this new work,' or 'I have been told this or that,' but, in the beautiful simplicity of Scripture lnnguage, her answer was ever ready. 'Do you not sometimes, Minny,' lone day ssid, wishing to try her, 'do you not sometimes do things that are right, from your own amiable disposition?' Jesus Christ says,' she 8nswered, '" If a mnn abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered." Once I, too, was fretful, continually qUllrrelling with my sisters; but this could not con tinue. Scarcely had I breathed the angry word, when a voice seemed to whisper, "This is my com mandment that ye love one nnother, as I have loved you." Yet am I daily offending II forbearing Father,' she said, with II sorrowfnl look; 'and did He not receive where man wonld reject; did he not

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46 A ClIAl\ACTER. pity when the world would scorn, and wait to be gracious where a fellow sinner would repel, I know not what would become of me. How truly he says by his prophet, As the heavens are higher than the earth, 80 are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." "I do not remember that she had ever before spoken thus unreservedly to me, but she was carried on by her heart's fervour. Then suddenly she began to apologize for the boldness with which she had been giving me her opinion. "There was a striking peculiarity in this dear child's faith. We allow that Jesus is our friend, that he careth for us, that he is ever touched with the feeling of our infirmities, and we should be startled if anyone questioned our sincerity as regardcd these convictions; but I am certain that we do not, as she did, take to our God the little daily dis quietudes of home, the ruffling annoyance, the chafing care. We do not realize His presence, as she did, about our path in the evening walk, about our bed when the shades of night have closed around us. Thus was she enabled, amidst many difficulties, to go on her way rejoicing. She opened her mouth wide aud it was filled. She opened her heart and it was satisfied with the fulness of God. She was almost uneducated, though, I should

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A CJLUtA()TER. 47 say, naturnlly clever, and in proportion lIS she became imbued with the spirit of her Master did her very language become improved. Seeking to follow His example, she WIIS pitiful and courteous, and in the sincerity of true Christian unselfishness, became pos sessed of the gW'm of real politeness. .As the small rain upon the tender herb had that Word been to J.{jnny. In this case, man was not even used as an in strument. The Lord alone did lead her. He found her in a waste howling wilderness; he instructed her, he kept her as the apple of his eye "Then she WIIS suddenly attacked by fever. She stood on the borders of the heavenly inheritance, and looked back with longing, lingering love on her white-haired father. "I called, without even knowing of her illness, and she begged to sec me. 'I might have been dreaming,' these were the words she addressed to me the very first moment I made my appearance, 'but this morning some one stood by me all in white, and told me that my dear papa would turn aud repeut. Do not, dear Mr. Campbell, lose sight of him; remember that the angels of God rejoice over one sinner that repenteth.' I WIIS so deeply affected, I could ouly bow my G

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4:8 A. CHARACTER. head in token of acquiescence. It was a touching sight to see her lying on that little comfortless bed, with the rude apparatus of arms and harness hanging from the walls, her mother passively sitting by her, and her father, for once forgetting that his life was in danger, bending anxiously over her-yet he could not stay her, she WitS goiug home! She had held fast that she had, and no man could take her cro wn. Already the tree of life was in sight, which is in the midst of the paradise of God. 'Have you no fear now, my love?' I whis pered. No,' she solemnly answered; 'our Great High Priest who has passed into the heavens is waiting there to receive me.' "Love had triumphed, and had cast out fear. All this language was in such strong contrast to the tone of conversation prevalent in that family, that the effect was impressive. I felt a louging that some of my Christian friends in England could come and look on that dying bed. I am persuaded they would have returned home with a firm resolve to make the simple word of God more constantly their study, they would have felt their faith strengthened, and their pride of heart subdued. They would have learnt at the bedside of

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A. CHA.lLI.CTER. 49 that dear girl that we must be led by the Spirit of God, even as a little child is led, if we would be the Bons of God. I was unable to remain long with lfinny. I stooped down and kissed her cold forehead She had been silent and motiouless so long that we thought the coma, which is tlie last stage of yellow fever, must have b e en stealing over her. I, however, gently whispered, 'The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your heart and mind through Christ Jesus.' She opened her eyes, and distinctly said, 'He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation.' These were, I believe, her last words, she died in the evening. I have since Been little of Mr. W slker, in con sequence of my recent visit to England, but you will now understand why I was so a.nxious to introduce him to you You may remind llim of his daughter's dying wish, but deal with him gently, he is a wild being, almost ferocious, if approached unguardedly Oh, how I blamed myself for having entertained Buch hard thoughts of one to whom my Master might be waiting to be gra.cious; how I prayed for wisdom in the difficult task before me. "There," said my friend, "is their humble dwelling." G 2

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50 A. CIIA RACtR. That negro hut," I exclaimed, "impossible!" It was a low, barn-like house. The roof was in a dilapidated condition, the shingles being completely decayed, and the palmette thateh only used in those places where repair was absolutely necessary. The Venetianed windows were broken in many parts, and might perhaps once have been green, although this is merely a supposition, as no trace of their original colour romained. The approach of our phroton was the signal for some half-dozen starvcd dogs to make their appear ance j thcy seemed too low-spirited to bark. .All the oooks, too, began to crow vehemently, and tho wildest of wild black heads forced itself through a brokon part of tho before-mentioned Venetian blinds. 'l'hen thoro was a tittering and whispering, "Him bring 'trange buckra wid bim, and bim 'tand taillike aloe."" Then there was suppressed laughter again. Noone came to our QS.
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A CHilA.CTER. 51 He was sitting, without coat 01' waistcoat, in a low wooden chair, which he was pushing back in creole style, whilst his shoeless feet had atta ined no slight degree of eminence on the half-plastered wall. Ris slippers kept their humble station on the ground below. His hair was neglected, and his face un shorn. Ris collar was unbuttoned, and altogether he was in such complete dishabille that I felt uneasy at having thus intruded on him. I therefore kept in the background, and began to murmur an apology. His inimitable coolness of maDner, however, in a moment set me at rest. Rising with real unembarrassed elegance to receive us, although he did not even remember to put on his slippers,-" Most happy to see you," he said; "pray be seated I thought for a moment he was at a loss, as there were no chairs in the room, with the exception of the wooden one before mentioned, but this must have been my fancy, for the next instant he had inverted two empty tamarind kegs, and thus supplied the deficiency of these Illticles of household furniture. Then he pressed on us refreshment, and would take no refusal. There was a dried Yorkehire ham suspended by a hook from a horizontal beam that traversed the upper 03

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52 A CHARACTER. part of the room. Mr. Walker took his dirk from his side, and cut off several slices of this dried meat. Then he called the good-natured looking girl who had likened me to an aloe, to make preparations for the cooking of our repast. In a yard immediately beneath one of the windows, and where Mr. Walker could overlook all culinary proceedings, and detect any attempt at poison, a square was made with four bricks, in which a fire of wood was kinilled, and in some apparatus of his own manufacture the broiling of the ham commenced Then there was a sudden running and cbasing in the waste ground immediately in front of us, and I soon perceived that one of the feathered tribe who had so musically welcomed us was suffering martyrdom on our account. He was being stoned to death, and I believe it was our friend Smudge of the preceding who dealt the fatal blow, if I may judge from the triumph actually from his teeth. A very thin old woman boiled the cocoas in a pan given to her from our sitting room, by Mr. Walker. You remind me," I said, laughing, "of Oliver Cromwell. Do you not recollect that for many years he was harossed by the fear that his life was sought? It is a penalty, I suppose, that great men must sometimes pay." He was slU'Priscd I made sllc h It subject 0 matter

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A CHARACTER. 53 of merriment, he said. Only last night, as he returned, a strange negro rushed from the bushes, and his own servants had seemed much discomposed. What could be the meaning of all this? Well, we could not convince him that his own fears formed dangers out of the most harmless circumstances, so we talked of other things, and then Mrs. Walker and Bella made their appearance. Mrs. Walker was very tall and very thin, and I well remember that her old-fashioned dress was too tight and too short We had for some time heard a sort of half-sup pressed bustle in the next room, as of a process of laborious dressing, mingled with whispers such as these "I must wear my kid shoes that ribbon is too faded," &c. This accounted for the Hushed fllce of Bella, who literally seemed exhausted. I must confess she was the most weather-beaten young lady I ever remember to have seen; the very crimson of her cheeks, having to struggle through an outer casement of amber colour, became a sort of deep neutral tint, relieved only by large freckles of a much darker hue. When she sat down, she put her feet forward, pressing tbem together as if she regretted they were not one, and then I noticed the kid shoes whispered about in the adjoining apartment. Her wbite gloves were soiled and stained, her bracelets

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54 A CIURACTEU. tawdry, and her light muslin dress seemed scarcely suited to that apartment. Her vcry eyes were sun burnt: tho part that should have been white being strangely mixed with red gave them a glaring appearance. The feeling uppermost in my mind was the most profound pity for this unfortunate girl, shut out from the means of civilization open to even the poorest in England. I asked her if she liked the country? "Yes, sir," sho said, and then she held down her head, and broke out into a hissing whis pering laugh. Have you been long in this neighbourhood? " Yes;" and another mysterious laugh followed, which it was most pajnful to hear. Mrs. Walker had evidently moved, at some time of her life, in refined society, and I was quite at a loss to account how it happened that she had im parted none of this civilization to her daughter. I afterwards learnt from the thin cook a piece of infolmation, proffered willingly, however, that "old massa always lock up old missis when him go out, and neber let him 'tay wid bim own pickney." Poor lady! I believe that long oppression had so benumbed all her finer feelings, that she had for some time ceased to feel any interest in the improve ment of her children.

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A CHARACTER. I heard from :Mr. Campbell, that :Mr. Walker would sometimes keep his wife for weeks a prisoner in her bedroom. No marvel, then, that she sunk into a state of lInmUl'muring acquiescence, and lost all energy of purpose, all vigour of mind. I tried to persuade myself that she sometimes gazed compassionately on her daughter, but no, when I looked again, there was something vacant in the expression that had no doubt been once animated by maternal affection. :My spirits became dejected to such a degree, that :Mr. Campbell began to rally me on my silence. Then I made some observation to Bella, and again the hissing laugh threw me back into a sort of despondency. Yet there was a degree of conceit visible about Bella, that was to me surprising. :My friend :Mr. Campbell made some allusion to the frequent visits of a medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, and she hung down her head, whilst a smile of delight did for a moment cause a meteor gleam of intelligence to flit across her face, and she fidgeted with her gloves, and the neutral tint deepened on her cheeks. Poor girl! why should I thus uncharitably accuse h e r of conceit? Was she, then, to consider hers elf as shut out from all bum an affection because debarred the privi-

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56 A orr ARACTEll. l eges of society and education? Might she not have sterling qualities I could not on a first acquaintance perceive? There is often a weary toil in darkness before the gem is found that sparkles in the coronal, and when I considered what the wisest amongst us must be in the sight of God, when I rememb e red how he pitied our weaknesses, and looked on us and loved us, disfigured as we were by ignorance, and rendered loathsome by sin, my heart reproached me, and for the re st of the evening I am sure my tone was softer to Bella, and my manner kinder whenever I addressed her. The stars were out before we commenoed our homeward ride, and I felt discouraged that I had not introduced one serious word during the conversa tion of that evening . "Never mind," said Mr. Campbell, encouragingly; you cau go alone next time, and lure Mr. Walker to speak of Minny. This will soften his heart, and no doubt incline him to receive favourably any observation you may make." My dreams that night were of that strange abode. I thought I was in the old hall, half sitting-room, half saddle-room, but Minny was there, looking reproachfully at me, as an ambassador of Christ who had forgotten his message of peace. As I have before observed, Mr. Walkcl" had taken

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A 57 what is generally called "a great fancy" tc me, and I therefore was not surprised to find him at Mr. Campbell's the next morning. He had made himself quite at home during our absence, for we had been taking a morning ride. He was sitting with his pipe in the piazza, and his feet at their usual height, only he did not retain his dishabille of the preceding evening, and the weight of his coat seemed tc oppress him. His pistcls were close at hand, and the unquiet wandering expression of countenance very visible this morning. Are you always thus disquieted, Mr. Walker," I gently inquired, and I did not laugh this time. "Continually on the alert, sir j obliged to be," was his answer. "If we abide under the shadow of the Almighty," I said, "we need not be afraid of the terror by night, nor the arrow that f1ieth by day." He remained perfectly unmoved. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem," I continued, "so the Lord is round about his people." "Aye, hi& people!" he replied, with a sudden vehemence that almost made me start. Do you know, Mr. Scott, although we sit here side by side, there is an immeasurable gulf between

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58 A ClIARACrER. us that which divides the right hand side from the left." I was so unprepared for any observation of this kind, that I made no reply, and holding down his pipe, with a look more sorrowful than I had ever seen bim wear, he moodily continued : I went on my own dark, wilful way, compara tively with ease, but Minny (and there was an inex pressible tenderness in his tone when he mentioned this name ) }[inny held out a light, and I saw the dreary waste before me. She is gone, but the light still remains nothing will extinguish it, and now I go on uneasily and sadly, longing yet unable to quench it." "Follow it, my dear sir," I said; "so shall you bless the day your daughter was led to place it thero; follow it, and it will lead you from the wilderness to a land flowing with milk and honey, even to the heavenly Canann." Minny," he continued, without any reference to my remark, "grew up as a garden flower in the midst of our ,vilderness our uncivilized home. She was as different from Bella as light from darkness, as different from us all "As the spiritual mind is from the intenupted. carnal" I

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A CUAR-\OTElt. 59 Yes," he said, in no way offended at my remark, that was it; and well for her it was that she was called away, though hcr sweet aud dutiful affection for me was the only ray that ever brightened a long and dreary life of SOl'rOW." 'fhe whole man was changed whilst he was thus speaking, and all his fears were forgotten. "You may go to h er," I said, "though she can not return to you." Aye, Minny would hav e her grey-haired father at her side, that I know well enough," he r eplied, "but the Holy God will not admit such a one as I into his presence, and this you know, Mr. Scott," he added, with something like severity. I know," I solemnly answered, "that nothing that defileth can enter into the heavenly land; but I know that the greatest sinnor can be washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb, that clothed in the righteousness of his great Surety he can be presented faultless before the Father. The invitation is unlimited-' Whosoever will, let him come and take of the waters of Life freely.' " But I do not will," he said. "I am miserable, yet I would not be a saint." You would not?" I said, "you are convinced you would not? You would not follow after holiness, you would not be led from the broken cisterns R

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60 A CHARACTER. of eartbly enjoyment to the living fountain of eternal llappiness? He looked thoughtful, and I felt I had said enough on this occasion. I joined the breakfast party with a lighter heart, I feeling thankful that I had been permitted to open the way, as it were, to future conversations on this nll important subject. And so it was. We now frequently talked toge ther on religious matteI'S. Sometimes he would meet my arguments with an air of impenetrability, and at such times his countenance seemed all at once as if made of stone. It was discouraging enough I felt as if all my cotIDsels and persuasions fell powerless bcfore bim. He made no opposition; he ensconced himself in the stronghold of sullen indifference, a sort of fixed deter",ination to remain unmoved. This was all necessary for me, that I might more entirely feel the excellency of the power to be not of man but of God. "Plead thou thine own cause, 0 Thou most Mighty," was my prayer, and then those consoling words came to my recollection-" Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul? hope thou in God!" Even at that moment, though I knew it not, amidst all this effort at indifference, the sword of the Spirit bad entered his soul, the voice that shook the earth had reached his

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A. CHAR.lCTER. 61 car. The proud man was to sit in the dust of humi liation, thnt he might become acquainted with Him who revives the spirit of the contrite. It was a little after this, that I observed he had an increasing conviction of guilt, but he would not look only unto Jesus as the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world. He knew, indeed, of the great propitiatory sacri fice; he knew that the Lord did not require bim to come into his presence with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old, yet, in spito of this knowledge, something he must bring the determiDa tion to attend the ordinances of religion, the resolve to battle with his impetuous temper; with these he would make a bartel', as it were, of eternal life. It was arduous work for him He studied the Scriptures, and he saw what the Law required. This do and thou shalt livo," sounded in his ears, and again he set to work, and again he fell. The members of his family dreaded even his mention of religion. He would angrily rebuke the sins he had so long encouraged, and such was his discontented spirit, so maddened was he by the sense of sins which his conscience whispered were new every morning, that I believe he would at that time have persecuted even unto death those who opposed bim. He was in this frame of mind when I left him to n 2

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62 .!. CBAU!.t'TEH. l'eturn to my duties in the Port Royal Mount.ains, and I think more than a year passed away without any communication having taken place between us, and the n I received a short note from Mr. Walker, begging me, if pos s ible, to pay him a visit, as he was very ill, and feared he had not many days to live. My interest in him was all at once revived, but Ob, with what a pang of self -r eproach I felt how, even in prayer, I had neglected to ask for him spiritual light. If our God thus dealt with us, if His ways were as our ways, what would become of man ? I had even been in his neighbomhood and neglected to visit him I, who was the minister, the steward of the Most High! I tried to console myself, but it was only a mo mentary effort at comfort, by the idea that Mr. Walker lived far beyond the sphere of my ministerial duties. Did my Master lose any opportunity of doing good? A. voice from within made inquiry. These reft ections induced me speedily to commencc my journey, my kind friend Dr. Sanders, though staying with me to obtain a little rest, having consented to officiate f o r me on the approaching Sab bath, should circumstances d etain me long e r in the country than I had anticipated. It was evening when I rea c hed Lemon Gro,e. Thore wor e the uupainted ,enetians, looking, if

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A CrrARACTER. 63 possible, more neglected than ever. Smudge made his appearance, and his teeth laughed merrily as formerly. My heart revived. Mr. Walker must be better, I thought, or there would be some touch of anxiety on this boy's face. Full of hope, I entered the dingy room. There was the wooden chair in the same place, with a soiled white jacket hanging on it. Tho slippers were on the ground, and looked as if tbey had rema.ined there since my last visit. It is impossible to describe the comfortless appear ance of that room. It was not the shadow of poverty that darkened it, it was disorder that pervaded it. The dried meat was hanging on the wall, and the setting sunbeams were playing on the candlesticks whieh had evidently kept their place on the table from the preceding evening Two empty wine glasses stood on the faded table-cover, and whilst I was endeavouring to account for the discomfort apparent, by the pressing anxiety which nright have caused all minor things to be forgotten, Bella made h e r appearance. My first eager inquiries were after hel father. She gave me to understand that the doetor considered him in great danger, from an internal attack of gout, lind then tho hissing l aug h was clear and discordant n 3

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64 A CHARACTER. as ever, and I felt inclincd angrily to ask her if shc had any heart at all. The thin cook then brought me a cup of coffee, and told me with the most inconceivable unconcern, that she believed for true old massa would go dead Boon." I might have suspected that Mr. Walker's best interests would have been neglected at such a time. I might have been assurcd that no one there would feel concern for the immortal part about to leave its frail tent'ment, but such utter want of feeling for father and master I was not prepared to meet I saw it all. He had lived at war with his domestic circle; he had ruled by fear, and affection in trembling had flown away from that household. nut still, Mi-s. Walker: if all were unconcerned woman's enduring love would triumph I wish in the present instance I could CIiJTY out this principle. I have known affection, through cold neglect and bitter llnkindness, flourish luxuriantly, twining its tendrils round the very b:ee whose shadow was death; but sometimes-the truth must be told-sometimes it is crushed and so cruelly trampled on, that it ca.n not rise again. We will, however, leave these reflections for the present, and go on to tlle sick man's room. As a minister, I had often visited the chamber of

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A CHARACTER. 65 suffering-the bed of death. I had seen love and grief vainly trying to arrest the progress of their common enemy, and now, as Bella put her hand on the venetianed door, I fancied I heard some ana sobbing, and, strange as it may seem, the very sup position relieved me. There was, then, one sorrowful heart in that home circle, that would sigh for. tho familiar step, the missing tone; one who would feel life less glad when he was taken away. Slowly we entered the room, and immediately opposite the door lay Mr. Walker, in a small fOUl'posted bedstead. His fine features, though much attenuated, appeared more classical than ever, and his long grey hair being kept in control by his nightcap, showed his wide high forehead. There was no mosquito net, but from the upper part of the framework of the bedstead hung divers kinds of harness, riding whips, and driving whips, whilst across the head board swords were inversely placed Near the window was a of rum, which served as a table. Mr. Walker was sleeping when I entered, and his breath made the peculiar noise which I had mistaken for sobs. At the foot of his bed sat Mrs. Walker. She greeted me with the same depressing composure.

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66 A OHARAOTER. There certainly was no visible sign of distress, and from her employment, which was novel-reading, I judged there could be no great internal sadness. I watched Mr. Walker as he slept. There was occasionally a quivering thrill on his face, as if, in slecp he was sllffering. 1; co, nnot benr, even at this distance of time, to think of the indifference with which "Airs. WalkOl' looked on all this. It is sad to see the heart broken, bleeding, torn to pieccs by the tempest of o.fIIiction, but sadder far to see it unmoved under the chasten ing hand of the Almighty. Drawing towards me a low stool, I sat beside the dying man, and took his feverish hand in mine. Row comfortless every thing seemed The back door of the apartment opened on a yard, where, on some low cllshaw bushes, clothes were spread to dry, and the fowls, un r ebuked, walked in and out of the ebamber. "The doCtol' must have given bim some composing draught," said Mrs. Walker, looking at her husband, "for he has been much more tranquil for the last two or three days," and then she brought many charges against him, and complained of the martyr dom she had often been called upon to endure from his impetuous disposition. I knew that for years .be hacl bowed undcl' his

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A Cl1A1UCTER. 67 oppression, but I sighed to t),ink how every spark of affection must haye been extinguished, ere she could nt such a timo speak so dispru'agingly of the husband of her youth. And yet, she had once loved bim with fervour. She had listened for his homeward step, and with throbbing heart had welcomed his return. Oh, better far for death to break the ehain of earthly love, than for the corroding rust of indiffe rence gradually to consume it, but still better when, one in faith and hope, we learn to bear each other's burdens, and being heirs together of the grace of life, look forward to the blessed time when we shall sit together in heavenly plaees. When I turned towards Mr. Walker his eyes were open. He pressed my hand, and thanked me for coming, adding that he was undeserving of sueh kindness. 'fhcre is something more than an opiate at work here," I thought, and I inwardly llrayed that it might be so. I hopefully remembCl'ed the Prophet's words"They also that erred in spirit shall come to understanding, and they that murmured shall learn doctrine. "Jesus snith unto her, 'Mary,''' he slowly repeated. "Oh, Mr. Scott, you cau scarcely tell

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68 A CnIRACTEll. what comfort those words brought to my soul. There was love in the tone, and she knew her master. He has spoken to me in love," he con tinued, and the tears rolled down his cheeks, "and now I know that I am poor, and wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked. My good works What an idea I-all "in-stained and polluted as my best actions are." Then partially rising, and supporting himself on his left arm, in a voice that almost startled me from its solemnity, "But he has wrought out a perfect righteousness for me," he said; "he has r edeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us." Here, then, was the work accomplished at which I had so vainly laboured; accomplished without even man's instrumentality. Prayerfully had he studied ![jnny's bible, and redeeming lov e had melted the hard impenetrability of his soul, and in the softened heart-soil, humility was the first plant that appeared. I am sure he thought himself the chief of sinners. The change was wonderful. I could only silently look at the altered expression of his countcno.nce: all fear had passed away. There he lay he who through life had been restless and disquieted, painfully irritable in the slightest illness, now calm in acute suffering, looking forward from

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A CHARACTER 69 that miserable room, with a hope full of immortality, to the Heavenly City. If any man runong you seemeth to be wise, l o t him become a fool, that he may be wise." Mr. Walker seemed to lie as a little child at the feet of J esns, and in a manner that I have seldom met with, spoke of the Saviour as near and present with him. I havo often mourned a want of this realising love, even runongst sincere Christians. I havc watched the affectionate wife, whose eyes grew tearful at the vcry mention of a passing anxiety of her husband's, listen with unaccountable coldncss to the tale of Calvary. And yet we should be indig nant if our love to God were doubted. We walk by sight, not by faith; our affections do not go forth as they should to Him we have not seen; no marvel, then, that there arc so many mourners in Zion, for with lukewarm spirits such as these, the joy unspeakable Can never dwcll. These things ought not so to be Mr. Walker regretted vcry much the sad wny in which he had neglected his family, and we prayed together for his wife and daughter. It ,vas a stormy mght: sudden heavy showers, with much lightning. There was a great d e al of

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70 A CrrAlUCTER. woodland at the back of the house, arrd the lizards croaked, the snakes hissed, the crickets chll'Ped, and the cashaw trees threw heavily against the verretians their hurderr of min-drops. I sat hy Mr. Walker all night, and the Jamp was dimly burnirrg when the grey dawn of a cloudy morning an unusual thing between the tropicsmade the desolate apartment look more wretched than ever. Oh, how I pitied Mr. Walker-no heart was there to watch over him in yearning love. Mrs. Walker was in the hall; Bella was in bed; the nurse was sleeping soundly. The dogs began to bark, and the cocks vehemently to crow. MI. .. Walker murmured Minny's name; then he told me he was dying, but begged me not to call any one. He looked on the eastcrn sky, and smjJingly said, The night is far spent, the day is at hand." And so it was. The evcrlasting morning was even then dn wning on his soul. Another moment, and he was no longer an inmatc of that desolate hons e He had done with fear and care and sorrow, and entered into the joy of his Lord. Would you believe, that the next day things went on mu c h as usual, only somc preparations were made

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A CJLUtACfER. for Mr. Walker's interment in the evening. Bella actnally whispered a langh when I bade her adieu, and Smudge's teeth looked joyous as ever. I was grieved beyond measure at the iudill'crence of that household. Not one there mourned for the broken chain. Mrs. Walker looked grave, but it was the stndied appearance of one who thought it proper to be serious. I could not mistake-no grief was there. Mr. Walker was beyond the reach of all this cold ness. lIe had, in the lIouse of his God, a place and a name, better than that of sons and daughters, even nn everlasting name, that could not be cut off. I

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CHAPTER III {!i;pt jnnmkrn I WA.S staying at a small coffee plantation for change of air, having almost promised my dear wife, from whom I was to be absent for two months, that I would remain idle, when I received a pressing letter from Mr. Simmons, a gentleman with whom I had lately become acqua.inted, earnestly entreating me to visit his daughter. Such a summons I could not conscientiously disregard, and early the next morn ing I was on my way to that gentleman's lowland resid e nce. The mountnjns were all around me, and in the sea of mist from which their summits indis tin ct l y rose, they appeared like islands studding an Indian Archipelago. At a wincling of the road I lookecl down on th e rising sun, which was as a

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TnE FORSAKEN BYIDE. 73 bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing IlS a strong man to run a race." Rapidly I descended the hill, and long ere tbe glittering dews were dried by the scorching sun heams, I had arrived at the low dwelling. Oh, that house! It WIlS deep in the country-in Jamaica's country-and those who have never left England can form no idea of such solitude. The wild cllShaw trees surrounded the mansion; nay, through the floor of the back piazza, one of those trees in its llDruly growth had protruded, and WIlS flourish ing there in unabllShed luxuriance. "I must be mistaken," I thought, for I had never before visited Mr. Simmons, IlS IlScending the hroken stone steps I e ntered the hall, through the mllSsive mahogany floors, which from their encllSement in dust, seemed not to have been closed for years. As I advanced into the dreary room not n living being was to be seon. It might have been sixty feet in length. A very old-fllShioned sofa stood at one end, wbilst the other WIlS adorned by II black mahogany side-hoard, heavily carved. I say black, because time had taken from the mahogany its usual colour, and the cocoa nut oil with whi c h it had been profus ely polished, no doubt added in some degree to its sablo appear ance. A dining tablo much in the snIDe ponderous I 2

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TDE FOUSA In:N ImIDE. style, and a few high-backed chairs, completed the furniture of the apartment. I walked up and down in the hopes that my boots would summon some one to arrest the progress of an intl1lder. There were two largo mirrors on each side of the arched doorway; minors did I say? they reflected but shadows of the fonns presented to them, for as I stood before them that which met my gaze would have been an excellent copy for one of thoso spirituul beings w hioh our superstitious fancies clothe in shadows from the tomb. 'fuming from these looking-gla sses to tho old fashioned winuows, I saw traced with [l dip.mond on one of the small panes, "Bertha Hamilton, 1788," and underneath in a somewhat stronge r hand was written, "Horace Maruey." And can it be, I thought, that this fragile glass has stood unhanned for so many years, whilst the young, the strong, and the beautiful, have been swept away like grass by the seythe of death? There were many panes broken around; why then was this preserved? Age had not at that time quelled the romance of my disposition, and how far my ima"o-ination might have carried me I know not, but at that moment a loud Hi !" arrested my attention, and looking round, I saw a large black woman with a red turban and long

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TUE FORSAKEN lmmE. 75 gold ear-rings. She wore a white cotton body, a very sliort dark blue petticoat, and neither shoe nor stocking covered her feet. I believe I looked startled, for she smiled, and her very white teoth relieved in a measure the monotonous appearance of her conn tenance. My n am 0 is Scott," I said, "and I have come here, at the request of Mr. Simmons, to see his daughter, who is, I understand, dangerously ill." She did not appear in the least to comprehend me, but after staring at me for some time, she said, "'Me go bring Missis." After waiting for more than three quarters of an hour in this very desolat.e apartment, a lady entered, and introducing herself as Mrs. Simmons, took her seat beside me Although many years had passed since I visited Logwood Rall, I perfectly remember that lady's appearance. She was rather stout, and might have been forty-eight or fifty years of age. ReI' face was very red, but this colour did not con fiue itself to her cheeks-forehead, nose, all wore the same hue. She had on a bright green silk dress, mnde quite in the fashion of other days, and exceed ingly tumbled. There was an ill-conducted, or if I may so express myself, Il sort of plebeian hauteur in her manner; it was pride without dignity, gaucherie, but not modesty. ReI' thoughts, I soon discovered, I 3

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76 THE FORSAKEN BRIDE. seldom ranged beyond her stores and her poultry yard, her unruly servants, and her lack of town luxuries in her secluded situation. During breakfast time her tone was unchanged j it was one unvaried note of murmur in the midst of abounding comforts. Whenever I attempted to express my sense of the excellent repast I was enjoying, it seemed bnt to touch a chord in her heart that vibrated to reminis cences of better times j and when she had completed her hearty meal, for she plentifully partook of the many dishes in spite of their culinary inferiority, she rose from the table without one breath of thankfill. ness to him who had thus blessed her in her basket and her store, and as she stood in the back piazza, giving orders for the day, the BaIDe querulous cadence fell on my ear, and I could not help think ing of that great gain, even godliness ,vith content ment, which is the portion of those who love the law of their Lord. "Mr. Scott," she said, rather abruptly, "my daughter Grace is very anxious to see you, but I am afraid you must postpone your visit to her till to-morrow, as she is in a state of great nervous excitement j her disease is considered to be con sumption, and Dr. Cole says she must be kept from all uunecessary agitation, I would th e refore caution you to say not.lling that may al= her. She has

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rIlE FORS'UN BRIDE. 77 ever been a kind and dutiful child to me, and our rector, Mr. Morton, told me she was as pure as an angeL" 0, Madam," I quickly replied, "that cannot be; the deep stain of sin is on us when we enter the world, and unless cleansed in the precious blood of Christ, we can never hope to enter the kingdom of heaven." "Then," she said, "you are one of those sanctified people who mean to tell her that she must suffer etemo.lly, because she will not profcss to be better than her fellow-creatures;" and quite forgetting the courtesy of manner which good taste renders so ne cessary in refined society, she turned from me with ill-concealed disgust. "Groce's grandmother," at length she observed, "put some stmuge notions in my poor child's head, and this mn.kcs her so anxious to see you." I thought of the soft answer that turneth away wmth, and looking at her as complacently as I could, "My message, dear Madam," I gently said, "is one of mercy, not of wrath, the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek, he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted." Somcthing very like a "phsaw" escaped her lips, but as if recollecting herself, she converted it into a sigh.

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78 TUE FORS'XEN 1lIUDE. The dny seemed long and weary, but at length the purple twilight began to rest on the flat cashaw trees, and across the bright line of crimson in the west the bats were flitting to and fro. Dinner was served in the abundant style of Jamaica's olden days; a pro fusion of yams, a large roasting-pig at the head of the table, whilst a couple of guinea birds, with no inconsiderable portion of pepper pot, completed our first course. Mr. Simmons was a heavy-looking, quiet man. His monner seemed to be a sort of compelled resig nation to an inevitable fate. After par/Jlkjng plenti fully of Jamaica cane beverage, he became more com munjcative. Poor Grace!" he said. "Well, what be must." Here, I thought, is a field of usefulness before me, they know nothing of the comfort of religion, nothing of the privilege of being able to cast their cares on .Jesus; I was his ambassador, and yet I felt spell bound. At last I ventured to ask the old gentleman if his daughter were in a happy state of mind. "Yes, sir, yes, I believe so," he said, "and yet, poor child, she has been troubled of late." Has she nny conviction of sin, any sense of the need of a Saviour's justifying righteousness nnd par doning lo,e ?" I enquired.

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TH E FORSA KEN BRIDE. 79 "Sir," hastily intcn'upted Mrs. Simmons, who now joined us as we walked in the piazza, "if you mean to horrify her in that manner, you will hasten her death; Dr. Cole says so." I felt at first very much inclined to tell Mrs. Simmons that unless I dealt faithfully with her daughter, I had better npt enter the sick chamber, but upon reflection, I considered that I might lose the opportunity of speaking comfort to a tempest tossed soul; for from what I had heard, I began to suspect that the dying girl was earnestly seeking the narrow way to Zion. Early the next morning, after I had been strolling about the neglected und desolate looking bush-lund that was immediately around, and watching the glo rious sun rising like a kingly conqueror above the distunt mountains, scattering the mists in his pro gress, and shedding, as if in pity, some of his brightest beams on the dilapidated mansion, I perceived a very old lady approaching me, leaning on the arm of a brown girl, who had a more civilized appearanee than my sable friepd of the preoeding day. The old lady, who introduced herself to me as Mrs. Simmons, wore an ancient looking cap, for everything around me had the appearance of a hundred years ago, her dress being something in the style of costnmo that pictures give to the reign of Qucen Elizabcth. Thore was,

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80 TIlE FOBS" KEN BurDE. however, an extremely pleasant expression in her soft dark eye, and when she smiled it seemed to me the first welcome I had received at Logwood Hall. "The dear invalid will sec you after breakfast," she mildly said, "and oh, may tho blessing of the Holy Spirit rest on the word spoken." Hore, then, I learnt tho BOcret of that swoot ex pression of countenance which had so charmed me. Amidst earthly !lJ1JQeties, hers was tho spirit that stayed itself on its God. There is then, at least one," I mentally said, who will put no obstacle in my path of duty." Our denr Grace," she continued in 11 low voice, und looking up to the house, as if fearful of being heard, "our dear Grace thinks that her iniquities aro too heavy for her, and that she must sink under their pressure." "So she inevitably would," I replied, "were it not for one who says, 'Cast thy burden upon me, and I will sustain thee.''' About two hours after this conversation, I found myself at the side of Grace Sinlmons. There she sat in her pillowed chair, fair and fragile indeed, but a beautiful garden plant in the midst of surrounding desolation. She seemed to bring me back to present life, for as I have before said, everything around me tho impress of long, long ago. WllCn I entered, a

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TilE FORQAXEN lJRIDE. 81 deep but passing crimson flush overspread her cheeks. Sho put her cold hand into mine, her lips quivered, and the beating of her heart agitated the delicate white frill of her dressing-gown. The large tears forced their way from her closed eyelids. I felt the difficulty of my situation, for I saw that the least excitement must be prejudicial te her. I thought of her mothcr's CIlution, but inwardly offering a prayer for guidance, I gently whispered, "Comfort ye, com fort ye my people, saith your God. I the Lord have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thino hand, and will keep thee." "Thank you," she said, and then after praying with her, I left, promising te return in the evening. We had several long and nninterrupted conversa tions. I spoke of the many mansions in the Father's house, and of the everlasting covenant ordered in all things and sure. I teld her of the righteousness that justifies, and of the spirit that sanctifies. I reminded her that there was no condemnation te those who were in Christ Jesus, that He who had loved her had loved her with an everlasting love. I teld her that if utterly casting aside all idea of meriting heaven by anything she could do, she pleaded the finished work of J csus as her only hope, and lying in helplessness at the foot of the cross, cried, "Lord save or I perish," tho word of the Omnipotent was

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82 TUE FORSAKEN BRIDE. pledged for her sccmity; that though heaven and earth might pass away, not one jot or tittle of that word could fail "Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." One morning she welcomed me with a brighter countenance, and said, "I have been trying to rest on Jesus with all my fears, and you know" she con tinued in her own playful way, "vapour cannot live neal' the suu; my doubts are vanishing in the light of His countenance." And so it really was; the morning star of peace gently arose on her soul, and she was at length enabled to cry, "I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my fears." There are some who are ready to say, "Ah, this doctrine of getting to heaven without any effort, and only through Christ, is a dangerous and easy one. We may do just as we like, and all will be right at last." Dut they are wrong. It is no easy to cast aside self on that lowly and contrite heart, the Holy Spirit must breathe its life-giving influ ence. And then these cavillers know nothing of the love that constraineth. This was beautifully exem plified by Grace. She kept a wateh even over her thoughts, lest she should grieve Him who had loved h er, and gi von himself for her. Dy the mercies of God she desired to flive up hers elf to her Redeemer,

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, TIIE ltoRSAJrnN BRIDE. 83 and the holy influence of these hlessed principles were soon visible in her daily walk; for she knew that the branch abiding in the vine must bear fruit, and that if she would continue in the Father's love, she must keep his commandments. I returned to my coffee plantation, and then again visited Logwood Rall. The rajny weather kept me there throughout the month of October, for the "gullies were down," as the negroes say, and the roads were impassable This change in the mental atmosphere of our dear invalid from cloud to sunshine, was not the work of a moment; sometimes it was desert waste around her, and then earnestly she had to call on her God; ane! Re that had mercy on her, led her, even by springs of water did he guide her. Rer growth in grace though gradual was sure, and at length that timid and shrinking girl could stand fearlessly on the borders of the river of death We sometimes had hope, but she knew from the first that her days were numbered. The light from eternity was even then making radiant to her the thought of approaching dissolution, the King of Terrors was being gradually transformed into a messenger of peace, and she, who with her own good works as passports, had been kept trembling on the borders of the narrow gulf, now looking ouly unto Jesus, was released from the K

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84 TlIE FORSAXF..N lJRIOE. bondage of fear, earnestly desiring to depart and be with Christ. Grace sometimes appeared stronger, and would often sit with us in the evening, in tho lone piazza, and very pleasant were our conversations of eternal things. It was a sad wild life for her, thnt Jnmaica home; "but Grnndmnmma's tales of the olden time often make me forget," she would say, "the present dreariness of our sombre And thllt dear old Indy's mind was fraught with the memories of other days, and well pleased were both Groce and I when she would give us from the stores of her own experience the counsel, or instructive tale. On the night of which I spenk, as I assisted Grace to the armed chair, "I have lured from Grandmnmma n promise," she smilingly said, "thnt you shall hear the window pails story to-night;" and we had not been long sented before the old lady commenced her tale :" Fifty years ago," she said, "this house was not the melancholy dwelling that it now is. Through those ancient looking doors passed mnny n glittering throng-these walls echoed to lively music those mil'rors faithfully reflected the bloom on youthful beauty's check, and tho flush on manhood's triumphant

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TIl E FORSAKEN BRIDE 85 brow. The bridal garland has been reflected therc, and amidst the laugh and song and dance, one would have been almost inclined to fancy that the end of such mirth could not be heaviness But who thllt has mixed in such an assembly, has not learned that stifled sighs and pallid cheeks are in the midst of merriment? there is evcr shadow in that sunshine, and in its loveliest music an undertone of wail. "My nnme is Mary, my two sisters were called Bertha and Estelle It was during a fine Octobcr that we left England, and in Jamaica's gayest time we arrived in Spanish Town My fathcr, Mr. Hamilton, fearing the heat of that place might prove injurious to us on our first arrival, hurried us to this his country residence, and by way of compensation for the loss of town festivities, he gave here several large parties. I was his oldest daughter, and at that time about twenty-one years of age. My sister Bertha was the beauty of the family Fail' as a lily, her tall slight form secmcd to bend ,vith the elegance of that lovely flower There was much a.nimation blended in her countenance, which is not often the case, with a swect expression of gentleness. "Estelle had a sallow complexion, and would have been plain had it not been for the fervour of her black eyes i but she was bom to command, and K 2

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86 TnE FOns"KEN DlUDE. although the youngest of us, we were ofteu completely ruled by her. Bertha was ever seeking the happiness of others, yet she hoarded human affection with a care that somo would have cnlled selfish; an ungentle word would blanch her cheek, and though Estelle often rallied her on what she called her want of spirit, yet I hlLve frequently heard her express earnest admira tion of Bertha's forgiving temper. I was the most prosaic of tho party-as matter of-fltct a little body as ever you knew. I plodded on my quiet way, regretting the impetuosity of one sister, and smiling at the romance of the other. Yet I had by far tho largest share of common scnse; by this I mean that kind of knowledge that is so useful in the uninteresting, but frequently oceurring emer gcncies of every-day life. Our first bnll! It seems but as yesterday. On that pile of stoues which you can indistinctly see, stood one of the most picturesque lodgcs you can wcll imagine. On the night of which I speak, a covered walk led from that spot to this doorway, prottily illuminated by coloured lamps. The Governor and his lady were amongst our first guests, and thnt now desolate-looking hall was soon filled by everyone of any consequenco in thi s !'mt of the island.

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TILE FOJlSAKEN BRIDE. 87 How my father could persuade them to come so many milcs from town I know not, but so it was, and before ten o'clock tho chandeliers shone on many II lovely brow, the martial tones of mili tary music stirred many a youthflll heart, and the light and joyous step was bounding in the happy dance. Bertha was, I thought, more beautiful than any there, but this might have been a sister's prutiality. She was, how ever, almost too fenrful; rualm was on her face as she clung to her father's arm. Then so many of the militnry stood round her that it per plexed and confused her. Estelle was led out to the daneo by Colonel Prescott, and I followed with a bnrrister of some note in the island. My father looked well pleased. I lost sight of Bertha, for the room was crowded, but after the first dance was over I found her in tho back pIazza. I shall never forget her appearance. She was leaning back in a low cushioned chair; her clenr muslin dress and pale blue sash being gently agitated by the land breeze, whilst at her right hand stood a fine-looking militnry man in the very act of present ing to her a bunch of grapes. She seemed afraid of her companion, whom she introduced to me as Captain Manley. "There was something imposing, though not K

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88 altogether pleasing in his appearance. He had not the tone of flattery to which ladies in a boll room are accustomed. If Was Hamilton does not wish to engage her self to me for another dance, let it be so,' he said, and his proud lip curled with an expression of haughtiness. "Bertha hesitated for a moment, and then nnswered," 'I will dance with you.' He offered her his arm, and I soon lost sight of them in the mazes of the assembly. Now oll this time we had not one thought of Him who W88 even then about our path, and acquainted with oll our ways. We rose in the morning high in spirits, without a breath of thanks giving to Him who had made us to dwell in safety. Our evening parties were frequently repeated; our souls were held in life by the God to whom we never gave one grateful thought, and, in the dissipation around us, I doubt if a serious idea of eternity ever found a place in our eareless hearts. Well may the psn.lmist say, 'Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man, that thou so regardest him? "But Estelle tho impelious Estelle was en gaged to be married to the Honourable Mr. Trevor,

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'XH}; }'ORSAKEN DRIDE. 89 and the bridal day was fix ed. He could provide her with luxuries, and give her what the world calls a good establishment, !IIld she was glad; yet I am sure that, even at tbis time, her heart was not altogether satisfied, for there is in everyone of us, though we may recklessly turn from the way of life, a craving for something beyond what earth can give, the highest joys of mortality being ever insufficient to satisfy the yearnings of the soul that is immortal. My dear father, too, was altogether a man of the world he had his portion in tbis life. Oh, had he but drunk from the river of crystal water that maketh glad the City of God, how would he have turned from the mud-stained streams of earthly enjoyment, but he knew nothing of that peace such as the world giveth not, and in business and dissipa tion, in the favour of man, and in the advancement of his family, he olmost succeeded in hushing the still small voice that faintly whispered of death and judgment. CaptJ), in Manley was a constant visitor at our house, and a great favourite with my father. It certajnly was not similarity of tastes that drew them so together, for the one was fond of literary occupa tions, whilst agricultural pursuits were those in which the other delighted, but there was a fascination about Captain Mauley, that to many seomcd irrcsiBt-

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90 THE l:"ORSA. KEN DRIDE. ible. What it wns that so attacbed you to him, it wa.. impossible to sny. 1'hat stern glance would surely keep in subordination any attempt at intimacy; but it was not so: in spite of the haugbty aspect and forbidding frown, he had at times a winning power, and it was his very exercise of this power that kept him from being a favourite with me. He would draw you, by mental force, to his very heart, and then laugh at tho weakness that had llnresistingly submitted to his influence. "His daring and openly avowed contempt for many round bim, though startling at first, had a piquancy in it that made one often listen against their better judgment to the bitter sarcasm and caricatured incident in the lively anecdote. "Beltba, the gentle, enthusiastic Bertha, was charmed spell-bound; and yet it was an uneasy affection, It troublous love. No slave was ever under sterner control than she. The chnin was arounu her I do not say it was galling, still she was no longer free. 1 believe that had Captain Manley told her to walk into the ocean, she wonld have done his bidding. It was in this piazza that they continually met. I wns sitting ncar them when they wrote their names on that glnss. At last, nil was arranged. IIe wus to return to

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TnE FORSAKEN BlUDE. 91 Englund to settle some matters relative to property, and then again to yisit J ammcn to claim our gentle 8i tel' as his bride. Bertha became very sad, but her extreme look of sorrow was of course attributable to this separation. Once or twice I overheard Captain Manley in vehe ment and loud conversation with her. I did feel, from 'Ill inexpressible manner about him, that he was not calculated to make happy the tender hemt of Bertha. And, poor child, she was so wholly devoted to him that one trembled for her. Though she would breathe a prayer to Heaven for his safety in her confused and undefined yearning for protection beyond what eart h could give, yet she had no idea of going to her God for direction and strength; she was literally borne down by the overpowering presence of humml affection, and anxiety sat brooding on her sky. "Captain Manley wished her to leave friends and home with him, and to consent to a private marriage in Kingston, that they might retnm to England together. She was fortified by no religious principle, and her attachment was crying loudly to her to comply with his reqnest. We knew nothing of all tllis at the time, but there was a nervous rcstlessness in her mauneI', an unusual irritability abont her that could not fail to attract my attention.

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92 'I'nE }'ORSAKEN B.RIDE. "Even to Bertha, Captain Manley was not all tenderness. Her pillow was frequently watered by her tears, and yet 80 complete was her thraldom, that I believe she would have suffered anything rather than have opposed his wishes. Oh, had she at that time known of Him who giveth power to the faint; could she then have east her burden of eare on the Lord, her heart would have grown calmel' even amidst the difficulties that sur rounded her. But, as I have before said, though we had been edueated at a fashionable school, and bad regularly attended Divine worship, we had never learnt the depravity of our nature, and the necessity of that entire change of heart which is only effected by the renovating power of the Holy Spirit. We were ealled Christians, but we were in heathen darkness, and, at that time, had anyone told us that the heart was deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, I am persuaded we should havo indignantly denied the assertion, presnmp tuously confident that, amidst the refinement and elegancies of society, iniqnity in such power could never exist. We did not consider that the verdant ivy and the beautiful tendril covered the ruin, but it was a 1'nin still. We did not remember that the sunbeam sparkled on the liver, amidst whosc depths

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THE FORSA.KEN BRIDE. 93 was death. Where, then, was our Fortress and our High Tower when the shafts of temptation were around US? "Poor Bertha! In the time of trial she had no Almighty Friend to stand by her and strengthen her, and being naturally of a gentle and yielding dispo sition, she had not moral courage, though feeling miserable at her weakness, to resist Captain Manley's earnest entreaties that she would consent to a private marriage, and accompany him to England Even at this distance of time," said the old lady, I ca.nDot think but with inteDse pain of that period of our Bertha's history. Preparations for Estelle's marriage were going on, but Bertha, in sad abstrac tion, took no interest in anything. "We had at that time an old African negro, called' Princess,' who acted as housekeeper. This good creature, though fond of us all, had an especial regard for Bertha. I have seen her, when the dear girl was ill'essed for a party, sit on the floor with folded arlllS, lost in admiration of her young missis, and when her feelings found vent in words, numerous were the similes she employed to give expression to her thoughts. 'You see him wear diamond,' she would say; God gib him brighter jewel than that. You no see

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94 THE FORSAKEN nmm:. him eye, how bim 'pal'kle like firo fly? Hi my rnissis Old Princess get up eorly, him see cloud red, him see bright prickly peor, but bim see noting like young missis' pretty face.' And then the finale-it was not a sigh, nor a groan, but an intonation of admiring ragord that could not be expressed in language. Bcrtha and I occupied that lorge bedroom in the south-western corner. On the nigbt of which I speak, my deal' sister had fallen asleep before I had retired to rest, and it was Princess who fu'ew my attention to her. "Poor Pickney," said the old woman, in her uncouth deep-toned voice; but there was feeling in the expression, and as I turned to look at Bertha, I was stortled, nay shocked, by the very sunken appeorancc of her face.. How WIlS it I had not noticed this before. The deep dark line so clearly traced undcr the closed eye, the very pale check and reduced form. She murmured Horace!' and then, with a shudder, said,-" 'No, never! I cannot do it. My father! my sisters! Is it true, 01' is it a dream? 'Missis,' said old Princess, 'sea always make noise before sto! m come.' I did not exactly understand the old woman, but I saw she feared all was not right.

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TOE } ORSAXEN 95 "It might have been midnight when I was awakened by a gentlo lU'm clasped round me. It was Bertha. 'May I not sleep with you, denr Mary,' she said, 'for my dmams are troubled and my heart is snn.. Would that I were in the quiet grave,' she continued, with an energy of manner which convineed me it was not merely the temporary separation from Captain Manley that distressed her I told her of the expressions she had used whilst sleeping, and I confessed to her that my knowledge of Captain Manley's character convinced me that he was urging on her gentle spiri.t BOme line of conduct from which her better naturo revolted, aud then she told me all. But to meet him the next day, she said, would be impossible. Oh, how he had wound himself round every fibre of her loving heart! As I have before said, her feelings were held in no check by rcligion, and her affection for him was idolatry "The first gmy light of morning was nlready tracing the outline of the venetianed windows, and I was still quite undecided as to the mode of conduct which it would be best to pursue. "It was five o'clock when Princess made her appearance as was her custom to waken us for a morning ride, and I believe I expressed to Bertha, as L

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96 TITE l!"ORSAKEN BRIDE. the faithful creature was standing near us, the per plexity in which I felt myself. A sudden look of intelligence glowed on the negro's face, and she said, 'God Almighty no help missis ? Me poor neger, but Him listen to Princess. Him tell Princess, "Knock-for true door shut," but Him open when Princess knock hard.' 'Try, my sweet young missis,' she continued; 'you know him kind Fader, though we no see him. Princess lub bim-bim good to Princess.' Would you believe I was at that time in sueh a state of ignorance, that I knew not of tho precious promise 'Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and yo shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you;' and when the illitorate negro spoke thus feelingly of the mercies of her Heavenly Father, J felt at an immeasumble distanoe from Him whom, having not seeu, 8he loved. Yet, even then, I was foroibly struck with the idea, that the wisdom of this world was foolishness with God, for I felt my inferiority even to this o lmo st semi -barbar ous creature No time was to be lost; and whon Prinoess left the room, I f e ll on my knees, and I believe I prayed, that is, I really preferred a request for the first time in my life, to God, through ChJ:ist, for I had l e arnt that we could not approach the Omnipotent but thl'Ough his Son. I had often gone through the

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l 'ITE FORSA.KEN BRIDE. 97 form of prayer, but I am SUTO this was the first earnest desire I had over breathed Guide me, 0 God,' I said; 'help me to (let wisely in this trying matter.' I possessed not even a bible. You may think this strange, but fifty years ago, in Jamaica, religion was not only altogether an 1m fashionable thing, but those who desired in any way to be guided by its pmcepts, were shunned by all classes of society, and avoided as persons with whom any intercourse would be dangerous. I remember, however, that I opened my prayct' book, and my eye fell upon those words in the Forty second Psalm, 'Put thy trust in God;' could it he that through the spirit-gloom in which I was enve loped a ray of' heavenly light had pierced? Surely, He whose name is Wonderful, was then at my side, though I knew it not. My plan was formed I would speak to Captain Mauley. Bertha's heart was a preeious thing, and must not be heedlessly broken. W hat was there to prevent an immediate marriage between these two loving hearts? It is true, pecnniary matters were not all arranged, but this could afterwards be settled. llertha's portion was almost of itself a sufficieney. Captain :Mrulley could return to England with his bride-given to him with a fath er's blessing, for I L 2 -

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98 TU }'ORS.-\.JLF:K BRIDE. felt certain I could persuade him to agree to this arrangement. Bertha had, it appeared to me, been standing on the very borders of a fearful prccipicc; she had turned from the path of duty to tread the dreary mazes of concealment and error, but nil would yet be right. ThUll I cheered my droop ing sister As I entered the breakfast room, I felt a little uervous, and could scarcely meet Captain Manley's searching glance. There he sat, at that very table. Bertha met him timidly, and pleaded hcadach in excuse for pallid looks. Poor child! the tea-cup trembled ns sho raised it to her head, and I saw that Captain Manley was not satisfied Once or twice his eye seemed to rest with scorching influence on poor Bertha, if one might judge from the crimson that burnt on her fair cheeks, as she felt, but did not meet his gaze. It wns one of those stilly mornings when the taroy sea-breeze seems to have over-slept itself, for no trace of its path was yet on the quiet sea, and it was eleven o'clock. To escape the hcat of the sitting-room, we strolled into the back piazza. Estelle was busy with some fancy-work preparation for her bridal dress, and Bertha and I were now alone with Captain Mauley.

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THE l'ORSAKEN DamE. 99 My courage almost forsook me, and then, even then, in my worse than heathen ignorance, I breathed a prayer to the negro's God for help. "I quietly told Captain Manley all that had passed, and how Bertha had revealed to me the secret. His passion was unbounded, and in his language to the trembling girl he utterly forgot the restraint which the etiquette of civilised life imposes on the langnage and conversation. He accused her of duplicity, and even falsehood. It was useless to argue with him. He would not allow me to propose my plan. "Oh, how the peor girl seemed to writhe under his blighting influence. Forsake him-turn from him-no; it seemed to me as if even his dark frown she valued more than another's smile. She attempted to hold his hand, but he roughly threw her from him. No word of murUlur pa sse d her lips; sho felt that she alonc was to blam e 'I have deserved it all,' she said; 'I should have told you at first I could not agree to your proposition. "Well, in a day or two, he seemed sternly reCOll ciled to his fate, and when my fathor proposed that both sisters sho uld have tho same bridal day, Captain Manley ealmly aoquiesoed in the arrang e ment. L 3

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100 Tn }i; :FOR$A KEN DnrnE. His look spoke of anything but happiness, !lml one evening, when he sat with Bertha at his side, I rallied him on his dejccted appearance; ho turned hastily from mc, and, stern as he was, I found I had surprised bim almost to tears. It was the evening before the day appointed for this double wedding that I observed llertha had been weeping. Princess had remarked it too. 'Young missis,' she said, as she loitered in the piazza, with the store keys in her hand, 'you neber see big tree, how' trong him 'tand, till the poison creeper hug him and hug him till him die.' "I needed no explanation One glance at Bertha, who was thoughtfully sitting in the opposite piazza, suffieed to solve the little parable. I thought of my sweet sister as some six months before she had been, one of the happiest amongst us, the beautiful though fragile tree, and I weII knew it was this ill-fated attachment that had coiled round her young heart, withering the fair boughs of youthfal gladness, and blighting the green leaves of hope. But wherefore was she thus sad? In a few more hours would not the bridal morning dawn on the eastern bills? Estelle was in high spirits, and it was only Bertha's deje c ted appearance that caused her to look at all serious. Captain Manley had l eft for Kingston a day or

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THE }'OlISAKEN BRIDE. 10 1 two before, and I thought he bid Bertha farewell with much more AAtlness than the occasion war ranted. "Well, the thirteeuth of January-the day fixed for the nuptials of my two sisters-at length arrived. Many guests were assembled at an early hour, and side by side, in their elegunt dresses, the two sweet girls entered that apartment. It seems to me but as yesterday," said the old lady, as she looked in on the large hall, and for a few moments was lost in thought. Estelle's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes more than usually brilliant The pale orange wreath circled each fair brow, but Bertha's face almost rivalled in whiteness this delicate blossom. She had much difficulty in preventing herself from bursting into tears. This was, of course, attributable to the excitement natural on such an occasion, but I felt assured that nnxiety in some way pressed heavily on her. "Mr. Trevor was soon at Estelle's side, and then the clergyman arrived; for marriages in those days were generally performed by special license in private houses. Where could Captain Manley be ? Vanous were the STuil1ises as to the probable cause of his detention. Bertha's very lips grew white, but she was altogether

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.. 102 THE DRIDE. uninterested in the inquiI"ies, as if she knew that all search for Captain Manley would be nseless. We persnaded her to take a little wine, for she could scarcely staJld. Messoges were sent to Spanish Town, Kingston, and Port Royal, and when in the evening no tidings could be heard of Captajn Manley, my father led Estelle forward, aJld in a short time she was the con tented, though I cannot say rejoicing, bride of Mr. Trevor, for the sadness of thc party was universal. No one could look at :Bertha. Even the old rector, who, I am sorry to say, was a very worldly-minded man, was softened into unusual seriousness. :Bertha was very calm, if we can call that com posure which was, as it were, the marble stillness of despair; and but for an occasional sigh, as if her very heart would break, a stranger never would have guessed the intensity of her snffelwg. The bridal pair lcft us, and one by one the guests dispersed. :Bertha retired to her room-to her bed. "Oh, how she needed comfort, heavenly comfort, and I knew not how to give it to her. Strange as it may soem, that old African housek ee pcr was the only one amongst us who could offer anything like con solation. 'Massa, J e8US Christ,' she would say, 'is gonc

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TIlE FOBS" KEN nIl UIE. away for true, but Him send the Holy comfort. Missis must keep a good heart. 'tand behind cloud to seo if rain do good.' 103 Spirit to God no "But she was speaking of what we then knew not.hing. The natural man perceiveth not the things of the Spirit of God. "Towards morning Bertha fell into a troubled slumber, and the old woman, thinking that I, too, was sleeping, :prayed aloud at our bedside. Her negro dialect was strong, and her gestures and tones wildly earnest. "Truly she wrestled in prayer with her God for my snffering sister. In her own langullge sho asked that a ray of heavenly Ii" might pierce the darkness of this sorrow, au she was peculiarly an'lious that not from any worldly source of consolation, but from God himself might spring my dear sister's comfort. And then this faithful creature told us of peace, that earthly trouble had not power to mar. The next morning Bertha was in a raging fever, and for some hours her life was in imminent danger. Her beautiful hair WIlS all cut off, and as the long locks fell around, the faded orange flowers were clinging to the dissevel'ed tresses. Old Princess was invaluable as a nurse, and by

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104 FOUSAXEN URInE. the hlessing of God our precious sister gradually recovered It was from this n egro servant that I reeei vcd my first impressions of mligion. It was indeed affecting to hear her explaining the simple doc trine s of Gospel truth. We had accomplishments, and what the world ca ll s desirable know l e dge. We had, as it were, gathered for our store fragments of glittming glass, whilst this simple creature being divinely guided, had taken hold of the pearl of great price, and placed it in hel' bosom, She had met with a man of God, a faithful missionary, and he had set the light of truth before her with his Master's eneouraging message 'Believe and live,' and who knows where the bread thus cast upon the waters may, in after days, spring up. Little did that ambassador of God think that we, through her, were to be warned of our danger, and arrested in the broad path that leadeth to destruc tion. But 80 it was: from day to day this old negl'O set before us the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, and dwelt much on the satisfying nature of true religion, saying that earth! y friends Ilnd earth! y resources could nevel' heo.! the wounded heUlt,

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THE FORSAKEN BurnE. 105 All this, I must tell you, sho expressed in that original way so peculiar to the negro. 'When young missis bruiso him arm,' she would sometimes say, 'him put plantain leaf, but whon him heaJrt cut, planta.in leaf no reaoh thero. No, no, Massa Jesus Christ's love only cure that.' "Her affectionate concern for Bertha's spiri tual state was most touching. She had herself been so refreshed by the waters of life, that shn longed that my poor sister's troubled soul should wash and be cleansed in the same heavenly stream. Her memory was stored with texts, which she told me sho ropeated every morning, lest she should forget them, for she could not read. 'Blessed be God,' said the old lady, 'the glad tidings of salvation are now more generally diffusod throughout our island, though we have dark corners still, which are full of the habitations of oruelty, but at that timo, though we were professedly Ii Protestant people, no Romanists could have dreaded roligious instruotion for tho negro population moro than wo did.' Prinoess carofully ooncealed hoI' biblo, for although, as I have before said, sho could not read, the very sight of it seemed a blessing to her. I promised, however, daily to I'ead it to her. 'Then me live to see this day!' she exclaimed.

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106 TIfF. FORS. \.KEY llRfDE. Him no forget old Princess,' and breaking out into the language of the Psalmist,-' I will sing of the mercics of the Lord for ever,' she said, then over come by her grateful feelings she burst into a flood of tears. Princess was a beautiful p,xample of the satis fying and sustajning power of religion. As far as tills world was concerned, an uncouth, hulf-civilized being, a s lave in a foreigu land. What comfort, what hope had she? The consolations of the Gospel were with her, and her hop e was full of immor tality. A despised, illiterate African, yet her soul magnified the Lord, and her spirit rejoiced in God her Saviour. I am sure she sometimes forgot all around hor, as her soul communed with Him who is invisible. Many were tbe similes and simple arguments willch she used to convince Bertha tbat ouly in Christ could her weary soul find peace. 'Look, missis, at the big sea bird, how him fly from wave to wave, him hab no rest till bim get into rock-hole,' and we knew she meant that that rock was Christ. Slowly our poor Bertha recovered her strength, but she camo amongst us again an altered cr e ature. She hac! prayerfully studied the Holy Scriptures,

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TUE } ORSA](EN DRIDE. 107 she had learnt that whom the Lord loveth he chus teneth, and in her present triol she saw that he was dealing with her as a child. Rhe confessed to me, that when Captain Manley had bid her farewell, he had said that in all probability they would never meet agajn, and that it was in complia.nce with his parting injunction that she had consented to dress herself as a bride, when she too well knew Capt.ain Manley would not appear on that day. There was something dark in his history, some depth that we could not fathom, but the barrier of divine mercy had saved Bertha from the pit of destruction, and we could only abundantly utter the memory of His great goodness whose name is Jehovah, and who is the Most High over all the earth "We were not, however, without our t,ial.. My father insisted that this heavy sorrow had affected Bertha's reason, and he compelled us both to join in the giddy round of earthly frivolity. As I retrace our path here," said the old lady, I canDot help feeling what especilll cause we have for gratitude to Him who upheld us amidst SUlTounding difliculties. Bertha had a peculiarly attraetive appearance, and a gentle and winning manner, and now that her spirit was enlightened by Divine Grace, there was a }[

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108 TITE FORSAXT:;N BRIDE. fascination about her that few could withstand. She did speak the word in season to many, and in eternity only may we l earn the blessed results of her labours of love. I man"ied Mr. Simmons some few years after the events of which I have been speaking, and my patri mony was this country residence and the lands attached to it. Bertha, after am f"ther's death, took up hcr abode with us. Estelle oftcn came to sec us, but her visits were short The world was her idol, sho lived engrossed by its cares and pleasures, and died, I fear, ,vithout a knowledge of a better and cndming substance. IIow I hav e outlived them all!" said the old lacly, as she wiped the tears from her eyes Princess died at a very advanced age, resting, in the most childlike security, on Him who had fed hcr all her life long. Doubt had no place in the simplicity of her belief j she took hold of the promises, and bound them as a breastplate on her heart, and as she breathed h er last in the same sweet SJlirit of confiding trust, I could not help thinking of those words, He that is greatest among you, let him become the least.' "Bertha lived many ycars after that sad bridal mormng. We nevcr more heard of CaptSlin Mauley, but

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'rHE l'ORSAKEN lJRIDE. 109 my sister always spoke of her bitter trinl as having been sent in love to dmw her back from the danger ous earecr of worldly enjoyment. "We are told to keep the heart with all diligence," said the old lady, "and my experience of life has con vinced me, that even when Christians allow earthly affection to stand in the way of daily communion with thoir Redeemer, whenever they suffer plans of future earthly happiness to interfere with that first seeking of the Kingdom of God enjoined in Scripture, sorrow, in some shape or other, is sure to arrest their steps; they are reminded by the sudden calamity, or bitter disappointment, that they have no continu ing city here, and happy for them if they are thus driven back agai n to seek for the rest that remameth for tho people of God." The old lady's tale was finished, and as I looked the next morning at the names on the window, I could not help feeling that there were events in real life more touching than fiction could paint them, and I pmyed that the sweet home love I was then enjoying might not dmw me from my God, but that I might, constrai ned by his mercies, dedicate myself more ontircly than eVOI' to his sorviee, 1d. 2

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110 TilE } 'OllS.\IiEX DUIDE. I retul1led to my duties in the Port Royal moun tains, and for two or tbree montbs we heard notbing more of Grace Simmons, wben ono evening, jnst as Mrs. Scott and I were taking an early tea, we were surprised by a visit from Mr. Simmons, and his mourning dress told us wbat be had scarcely power to communicate Yes; dear Grace bad fullen asleep; she had entered into tbo joy of her Lord. 1'0 the last she had no fear. It would be dreary," she said, "but my Saviour walks beside me, and the shadows disperse at his He then, with much humility, told me that he now desired to serve his daughter's God. He con fessed that throughout life othcr Lords had had dominion over him, but that the peace he had wit nessed in his dear child's dying chamber had con vinced bim of the value of that treasure which, hidden in the field of worldly occupation, he had hitherto so madly neglected. I thought of the seed cast on the waters long, long ago. I thought of the faithful old negro, and I remembered that they who turned many to righteous ness should shine as the stars for ever and ever "But look, my dear young friends," said the Mountain Pastor, "how magnificently the moon i s

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BRIDE. 111 rising behind ttlOse dark mountains. It is getting late. The night-blowing jasmin is almost oppress ing us with its strongly perfumed breath, and you must be weary of my long tale, even though I have told you of some whose life was fragrant, and whose end was peace."

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CRAP'l'ER IV. l\mllrctionl! of a in 'di:nwn. I CAN never forget that cathedral church During the early sacrament, what a soft light stole through those windows, whilst the birds seemed to j oin in our thanksgiving, und forth a choral hymll of pmise. Then the morning service, when the church was crowded, and the unruly sea breeze swept the wide straw hats from many an old woman in the central aisle A lady and gentleman I noticed; very quiet and attentive they were He was a handsome man, and there was an earnest anxions look on the face of his young ,vife that more than ollce nttracted myatten-

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llCOLLEC'ffONS 01' \ YEAR IN S P .\NISH TOWN. 113 tion. Thoy woro rogular attendants every Sabbath morning, and I was interested about them, I can scarcely say why. Not many days after my return from Lemon Grove, and whilst I was doing dnty for a dear invalid friend in Spanish Town, a negro boy made his appenrnnco at my door, stating that lfrs. Raymond was anxious to sec me. Massa must como soon," he s.'lid, and then in a moment he was gone, oven before I had tinlC to learn Mrs. Raymond's address. I lost no time in setting off, asking as I went for direction. I found that Mrs. Raymond lived at Miss Doll's hotel or lodging house; and as I was slowly ascend ing the stone staircase, an old negro woman having ascertained that I was tho minister, conducted me to a sitting-room opening on the back piazza. The strong sea breeze was tossing about the boughs of a large mango tree close to the window, and ruth lessly scattering in the dust the delicate blossoms of the BOuth sea rose that was seeking to twine itself round tho fra"oile frame-work of the piazza doorway. Thus, I thought, tho human heart will cling to what is weak as itself, till the blast of death tears the hold away. I heard some one almost noiselessly approaching,

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114 RECOLLECTIONS OF and looking up, I at once recognised the lady who had been so regular in her attendance at church I put out my hand to h e r, and was just going to speak, when, with a look of wild alano, she held up h er finger, as if to entreat me to be silent. Her appcarance on this our first meeting is still vividly before me. Her long dark hair was all un bound, and fell in disorder about h er shoulders. Her complexion was sallow, but her eyes had a radiance that I have seldom seen equalled, although despair bordering on distraction was clearly visible in hcr solTowfulJy expressive glance. It was as if grief had kindled the fire, that gave the painful brilliancy to her look. Her white dressing gown was carelessly put on, and she wore no shoes. I tbink she had altogether forgotten this omission. Her whole mind was evidently absorbed by some consuming grief. Hush," she said, "it would frighten him if ho knew you were here." Compose yourself, dear lady," I gently said, "of whom are you speaking?" "Do you not know that my husband is dying?" she replied. He asked for some one to pray with him; I tried, but all in vain. Long ere this I should have sought pardon for him, Mr. Scott. Mrs. Miller told bim that he had never done any hano to his neighbours, that he had often taken the sacrament,

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A YEAn IN SP-\..'fISJJ TOWN. 115 and that he was sure to go to heaven. This was all wmng, terribly wrong," she continued, '" There is none that doeth good, no not one.' In Christ only we have forgiveness of sins through his precious blood; but I had not courage to tell dear Ed win this, and now his thoughts are clouded. Oh, what shall I do ?" she coutinued with vehemence. Would to God I could die for him !" I thought of Mr. W aIker, and how unloved and uncarcd for he had passed from life. Thcn she took me by the hand, looking all the while, if I may so express myself, as if her thoughts were not with her-as if they had ne'\"er left the room where her husband lay. She led me gently right into his presence, although a few moments before she had feared to let him know that I was in the house. What a wlook was there! How rapid had been the pregress of disease! This was Wed nesday' and on the Sunday he had twice attended the cathedral church, looking so strong in health, that one would have supposed it would have taken a longer time, even for fever to accomplish such a work. He looked restlessly at me, and, I thought, per ceived there was a stranger in the room, but it wus evident his mind was wandering.

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116 UCOLLECTlONS O}' Mrs. Uaymond knelt solemnly nt his bedside, and literally drew me on my knees All Ihis passed so hastily, that I felt a little con fused. "Behold the Lord's hand is not shortened that i t cannot save, neither is his ear heavy thnt it eauuot hear," I said In an instont intelligence returncd to his wild suffering face-hright living intclligcnce-" Ucpeat that ltg-.lin," he whispered I complied with his request, and added, "Call upon me and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things which thou knowest not. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt bo saved." He pnt out his hand to me and smiled, and then closed his eyes, which he never mOl'e opened Finding that I conld say no moro, I stole out of thc room, and I wns told ho breathed his last thnt night. When I returnod home I was oppressed by 11 weight of painful feeling that wus overpowering. [t is tmo I had at this timo boen little more than a fortnight in Spanish Town; with this plea I tried to stiflc the upbraidings of conscience, but it wonld not do. 'l'ime hnd been gi von me to rescue, perhaps, an

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A TIl SPANISrr TOWN. 117 immortal soul from destruction, and had I been faithful to my stcwardship? I had been a watch man in the house of Israel, but oh! had I not been sleeping at my post? It is true I had sounded the trumpet, I had deelared from the pulpit Christ and him crucified; but when the sheep had wandered, hud I searched for them on every high hill? Had I sought at their own homes my Hock, and endea voured to strengthen that which was weak, and to bind up that which was broken? Mrs. Raymond in her despair seomed to stand before me. Had I been acquainted with her at the first approach of her husband's illness, we might have prayed together, and Jesus might have stood in the midst of the two or threo assembled, and whispered peace. I had often expressed my disapproval of the anxiety that would send for a clergyman as disso lution approached, as if from his very presence there was transmitted to the departing soul a passport to heaven; but in tho present instance how deeply was I to blame! I might have been their friend when the voice of joy and health was in their dwelling, and then when sorrow came, I could have spoken of the brother hom for adversity. If over I felt the stings of remorse, it was on this occasion. Oh! how eamestly have I since endea-

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118 UECOLLECTTONS OF voured to be illstaut in season and out of season, seeking to make all those my friends to whom I Wllll sent with the message of leconciliation. Nevel' now do I see a new face in my church without endeavour ing to become acquainted with the stranger. In very many instances I have been cordially and kindly welcomed. With some, though at first coldly l'e ceived, the ice of indifference has melted before even the feebly-reflected rays of Divine love j and I be lieve that in only two instances I have been ungra ciously and determinedly repnlsed. My own heart hIlIl been refreshed as we communed together of snered things. "How precious are tby thoughts unto me, 0 God j oh, how grent is the sum of them! ],[rs. "Raymond's sister, Miss Selby, arrived from the country, and they took lodgings very near us. Poor ],[rs. Raymond was broken down by grief. Over and over again she wonld say, "Oh! I should ha,e warned Edwin of his danger j I might have reminded him that his attendance at church was a sweet proof of his affe c tion for me, and then I might have spoken of his love, who said, 'Hallow my Sabbaths, that they may be a sign between thee and me.'" Miss Selby during these conversations would sit looking most reproaehfuUy at her sister. On this

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A YEAR IN SPANISIJ TOWN. 119 occasion I remember she said, "I always told YOIl so, Mary, I knew you would oue day bewail your conduct ." But I must observe, that this was a favourite ex pression of Miss Selby's. If anything went wrong she would immediately remark, "I said so, I told you you would never succeed If the most triJling accident occurred, she never l ost the opportunity thu. afforded her of assuring you that she had cautioned you on the subject. If the dinner were late, sho had told you, at least so she would have you understand, that Sambo was becoming very idle; or if the tea were not good, she had some little while before re minded you that the water did not boil. Stmnge that no one ever remembered to have henrd her fore bodings of approaching misfortune; but for the sake of peace, no one, as far as I can remember, cver ven tured to hint that there might be some mistake in these often repeated assertions. 'l'here she would sit, resting comfortably in the brown arm-chair, with her worsted work, which en gaged much of her time, I had almost said of her affections, for most certainly there were no abtm dant outflowings of these ou those around her. How cleverly she would find out the weaknesses of others, of which they were themselves ignorant. And if we could have peeped into her mental memoranda, we N

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120 RECOLLl :CTIONS OF should have found sundry items there of the besetting sins of her neighbours. If she met with those wbo were altogether worldly she was disappointed, for she had not the fragrance of Christian love, which gives to the truth a sweet ness that often makes it endurable even to a detcrlojned opposer. In such cases she could do nothiug, but was silenced by the angry or profane remark. U nfor tunatcly it was always the timid believer she dis couraged the bmised reed, that but for one greater than she, she would have broken It has sometimes been a matter of perplex; ty to me that such characters as theso should be permitted to get, as it were, within the pale of tho professing Christian church. :Hiss Selby had taken up her lot with the people of God; sho had in a great measure conformed to their mnnners, she consented to their doctrines, she would in a moment discern what was strictly evangelical, and immediately detect any 1enn ing towards ideas which, in tho present day, we should say savoured of Tractarianism. Her de meanour was discreet, her e".-pressiollS were Scrip tural; yet lacked she one thing-the spirit of love, tho spirit of God. How often have I heUl'd her eagerly descanting on the impropriety of wearing !l rose-bud in ono' s

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A YEAlt. IN SPA.1'I'"ISH TOWN. 121 bonnet, trampling all the while on that ornament of' {\ meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. I never should have thought so much of loss Selby, had I not been continually made lmeasy by tho conviction that tho little world around us looked on her as n Christian. But oxperienee has taught me, that it is needful for us to have some such as these amongst us, othenvise we should grow too secure in our own little enclosure; we should ima"ooine that our church was our safety, forgetting that our strength was alone in the Rock of Ages. At the end of one of the principnl streets in Spanish Town, stands an old house, in the midst of a dilapidated garden, where a solitary 80arlet cordia tree still blooms radiantly, as if to laugh at time? That spot is to me fraught with the memory of other days. Ono would scarcely believe what a look of elegance there once was about that place. A.jot cl'ellu played in a fountain which was situated in the midst of the garden, aud as you sat in the wide and shadowy piazza, it was refreshing even to look at those sparkling waters. The banks around were very groen, and the flowers in that neighbour hood grew so luxuriantly, that ali'endy they were clinging to the stono steps for sl'llport, like humau affections unable to flourish alone. The pillars of N 2

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122 RECOLLECl'IONS OF the piazza were beautifully covered with elegaut creeping plants tho wild jasmin, tho English honeysuckle, and the wax plant. Just below was n fragile English pear-tree blossoming, oh, how deli cately amongst the stranger flowers there; the sun was too scorching for it, and the dews too cbilling. I felt a pity for that tree when the rude sea breeze tossed about its slender branches, and strewed its white blossoms on the earth. But of the home party -the living flowers, I must now tell you. A most interesting famil y were the Courtcnays, and I continually fOlrod myself after the duties of the day were over, assisting the Miss Courtenays to water their rose trees, or discussing household mattcrs with their mamma, or conversing with Mr. Courtenay, who was a handsome aristocratic looking man, with a warmth of maDnor that made you feel at once at home with him. He had a great deal of whnt is called tact in society, always suiting his conversation to the time and cireumstances of the case, finding out, as it wore intuitively, tho subjeets on which you were most at home, and assisting you to run on fluently on your favourite topic. There were certainly a few points on which he was unreasonable, uDreasonable. If YOll differed from him on politics, he forgot his usual urbauity, and would violently oppose. Ho had uo notion of argument,

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A n,.R IN SPANISII TOWN. 123 although well skilled in anecdote. He was a most entertaining companion. It made one sorrowful to find that with real vital religion he was altogether unacquainted; and though from his courteous smile and cheerful manner, you might on a first acquaint ance have imagined that peace was in his heart, on more intimate association you perceived the restless disgust, the unsated yearning that is ever the portion of those whose souls are not satisfied in God. 'l'here was a charm about that family which com pelled you, I had almost said, to love them What was it that made the lights in the hall seem more cheerful than those of their neighbours? It was the 1lnion and affection that bound together that house hold. Look through those folding doors! That is Kate the eldest daughter, who site at the teble rellding. Inadvertently I ask her who was the donor of the beautiful volume in her hand, and the sudden flush mounte to her fa;r forehead, whilst the next moment, bending down her head, she contrives to conceal her face from mC by the profusion of her clustering curls. I think she murmured it was the gift of a friend, and I saw the proud smile on her father's face. He had overheard my query, and I afterwards discovered that Kate was betrothed to a gentleman highly con nected and of llu'ge propcrty. x 3

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124 mWOLLECTIONS OF Jessie, the youngest, is sitting at the piano, nnd is singing so softly (lnd s weetly, that ono is almo s t afraid to breathe, lest tbey s hould lose a note. There is a white rose in her jet black hair. How classical her features are. What a wayward girl! She lues abruptly from tllC instrument, and refuses to con tinue her song. Her fatlIer coaxes her, but no, sho does not yield, but takes her happy seat on his knee in all the petted wilfulness of a playful spoiled child. I have often wondered at the influence I had in tlIat family. Did I use it aright? It was very difficult to get at Mr. Courtenay by argnment. He tried, he said, to do his duty, and as for his imper fections, he trusted in the mercy of God! He had no notion of the herut's depravity; he owned that he ought more regularly to attend tlIe evening wor s hip on tlIe sabbath, but then he persuaded hims elf that as his weeks were busy, it was but natuml he s hould have a little quiet in his family on that day. He had lured hims elf into tlIe eomfortahle belief tlIat he might give life, healtlI, and affections to the world, aud that He who sent his Son to suffer ruId to die for rebel man would be satisfie d with tlIe lip confession of a weckly service, with an acknowledgment of general inIperfection, ruId a vague acquiescence in lhc merciful supcrintendence of a guiding Provi dence. Never did I mOI'e experinIcntully feel than

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A YBAlt IN S!'ANISII TOWN. 125 iu tho present instance, that Paul may plant and Apollos water, but that God alone could give the increase I could not convince him, that renewed by the influence of the Holy Spirit, we could so delight in the law of God after the inward man, that tho frivolities and falsely-called pleasures of life would cease to ensuare that ouce influenced by 101'e, we should count all things but loss for the ex cellency of heaveuly knowledge He appearcd to think me quite an enthusiast when thus I spoke, but one to whom, in spite of these weaknesses, he was sincerely attached I have sometimes regretted that Miss Selby was intimate with that family I am sure that her profession of religion, hanging as it wero on her qucru lous and unloving monner, threw a stumbling-block in the path of Mr. Courtenay, which, 0 fearful thought! perhaps for ever kept him from journeying towards the celestial city. One evening, as I entered as usual that pleasant piazza, I heard Mr. Courtenay in loud conversation with Miss Selby, who walked with a much quicker step than usual. As I advanced, she turned sharply round on Mr. COUltenny, and with a look of wrnth, strangely in appropriated to the words she used, "If yo wcre of the world," she said, "the world would love its

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126 RECOLLECtIONS OF own; but because ye are not of the world, therefore the world hateth you." "The world would never love you," rejoined Mr. Courtenay, exosperated beyond measure at the hyste rical sobs of }[1'8. Raymond, who had been suffering under tho rebukes of h er sister Doth a fountain send forth at the same tinre sweet water and bitter? I thought, as I look ed at Miss Selby. Can these perpetual outbursts of impetu osity, encoura,,"Cd, nay, justified as holy inilignation, bo lcally the fruit of that tree whose namo is love? I could not on this occasion refrain from speaking. "If God so loved us, we ought also to love one another," I said. "And this commandment have we from him, that he who loveth God, love his bro ther also." "Yes," she sharply replied, "but we must not love their sins; against these we must testify our ilispleasure, and if they continue in error, we have the highest authority that with such an one we arc not even to eat." Be careful however" I answered "to iliscover , that it ;8 sin against which you are carrying on this warfare; be careful clearly to ascertain that it is not an opposing opinion which has so chafed you. May we not be indulging in carnal resentment, pacifying our conscience by the idea that it is the anger that

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A YEAR IN SPANISII 127 sinneth not? Look well to these things. If you clln put your hand on your heart and say, that the glory of God is your object by thus withdrawing yourself from the companionship of a loving sister who has differed from you, I should say you were acting sincerely, though erroneously. But why are these associates generally thrown off when there haa been somc disagreement? Why is the spirit of love called upon to hide itself only, when self has been aggrieved? I had spoken more fully than I had intended, and she certajnly had listened far more patiently than I had anticipated. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him," she said; "if he thirst, give him drink. I wonld give my last shilling to my sister, but I cannot hold out the right hand of cordiality to one who has the most dangerous opinions.' I sighed when I thought by how mauy that text had been almost used as an argument for continuing in the spirit of unkindness, as if lIe whose name is Peace meant the gift to come from a heart still war ring with its enemy. During this conversation, Mrs. Courtenay had been working with unusual alacrity; but when Miss Selby l eft tho piazz(1 sho sighed h ea vily, and throwing herself back in the arm-chair, whilst in her own

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128 RECOLLECTIONS OF peculiar way she pushed her little cap from her still glossy hail', I always feel as if a load were taken from my heart," she said, "when Miss Selby leaves us. There, child," she continued, turning towards Mrs. Raymond, and placing, with the greatest tenderness, the poor sufferer's head on her own shoulder, "shed as many tears as you like, it will relieve you." And I then ascertained that Miss Selby had been vehemently accusing Mrs. Raymond of giving way too much to sorrow. lIfrs. Courtenay was an elegant woman, lady-like in the extreme, but all in h er own way. She had a very quick perception of the faults of othors; and oh how powClfully satirical she sometimes was, cut ting up unmercifully the foibles and affectations of the soci ety in which she moved; and yet all the while preserving a look so gentle, and a IDanDer so soft, that you wondered snch bitter sarcasms could eseape her lips. On tho present occasion she was much excited I don't profess to be a ChristiM, Mr. Scott," she bcgan,-and when she made this assertion I always knew her temper had been unusually ru.ffied "but never," she continued, "would I intentionally say an unkind word to the sorrowful. There is Miss Selby from morning till night talking of her reli-

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A YEll IN SPANISK TOWN. 129 gion, and yet crushing that which God hath smitten. Methinks the very angels would weep if they saw earth's bitterness trying to ape the charity of heaven." And then the little cap was pushed to the fllrthest extremity, and the glance of indignation yielded to tenderness only when she tinned and looked at the pale face of her suffering friend; for Mrs. Courtenay had an affectionate heart, but it was amusing to ob serve how she was ever trying to conceal, with an assumed air of indifference, this genuine warmth of feeling. "These things, dear Madam," I said, "ought not so to be. Too often we need sorrow ourselves, ere we can sympathize with others. To mourn and yet to love the hand that chastens, is by no means incon sistent with the Christian's walk. Who can make whole the heart that God hath bruised, or bind up that which He hath stricken? Would that we could see more gentleness in Miss Selby! We must not, however, condemn a system because some erro neously follow it; we must not forget that God is love, becau s e those who perhaps are seeking to servo him, ( and my heart misgave mo when I said this) forget the charity, without which all else is valueI O!=>S. Well, weeks passed on, and I continually met

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130 RECOLLECTIONS OF poor Mrs. Raymond at Mrs. Courtenay's. I visited her too at h er own h o me, wher e she sat in h e r soli tude, remembering in the days of her affliction nnd her miseries, all the plensant things that she had in the days of old. The Lord had, as it were, covered her with a cloud, and given her up to sorrow, but earnestly she hoped, and patiently she waited for his sal vation; and at l e ngth she was led to sec, that though he cause grief, yet that he will have compassion, according to the multitude of his tender mercies. The flower had been beaten down by the t e mpest. We thought its stem had been rudely snapped asunder, and that it could never flourish again; but the sunbeams came forth, the rough wind stays, and the plant gently rises, and shaking the rain-drops from its leaves, unfolds to the r e joic mg sun Thus it was with Mrs. Raymond. Heaveuly con solation broke in on the gloom, and she heard the cheering nccents,_H Let not your heart be troubled. In my Father's house are mnny mansions." And then she learnt to smile! Tru e there was sadness with it; it was sunlight struggling through many elouds; but light was there, and heavenly light too, for she realiy was beginning to taste of the peac e of God which passeth all understanding, and already .he was doing something for her Master.

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.. YEll' IN SPA.NISII TOWN. 131 But how is this? one might at first be inclined to enquiIe. She sits in her accustomed place quietly as ever We hear no discussions on different points of doctrine. Mrs. Raymond still has the lowly spirit that seeks to be taught. How then can she be doing good? Watah her with Kate, as they stroll together in that lonely walk at the end of the garden! They are engaged in interesting conversation. Mrs. Ray mond is relating to her young friend the simple but touching tale of Blind Bartimeus. Oh! if you had heard the earnest way in which she dwelt on the Saviour's kindness, when she came to those words, What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee?" you would have felt that she had tasted of the pitying love expressed in this tender enquiry. W atah her too with Mrs. Courtenay! Agajn by some querulous remarks Miss Selby has disturbed the quiet of that household. Then it is that Mrs. Raymond comes forward as peace-maker, as the child of God! I think I see her affectionate look now, as on her knees in front of Mrs. Courtenay, whom she is assisting to disentangle some knitting cotton, she gently says, "My poor sister is not well to-day, and you J.'110W a sleepless night makes us all uncom fortable." And I thought Mrs. Raymond's smile o

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132 RECOLLECTIONS a}' never looked sweeter than when thus pleading for others. She did not tell how her own lonely pillow had been that night watered by tears, she did not tell how she had wrestled in prayer that very morn ing, that she might not only submit to the will of God, but cheerfully acquiesce in each trying dispen sation. Onwards and onwards passed the weeks with their little burdens of household cares, and their deeper trials concealed from outward view their strifes and their affections their joys and their sorrowsonward rolled the stream of time, giving life and freshness to the thirsty land, yet uprooting in its resistless course the aged tree and budding flower, and bearing them on to the ocean of eternity. It was about this time that we began to notice Mr. Courtenay's altered look. His step had lo st its elasticity, and his cheeks were pale and sunken. Although now but in his prime, he was a shattered man. Some of the medical men asserted that he had heart complaint, others that he was only ner vous. He had suffered from pecuniary losses, but still his income was handsome, and afiluence smiled on his home. One evening I was summoned in haste to Mr. Courtenay's, and with an undefined foreboding of evil, which is sometimes perlllitted to take possession

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A YEAB IN SPANISR TOWN. 133 of the mind in spite of our every effort to throw off what we fear might be superstitious, I entered the wide piazza, and never through a course of many years have I forgotten the scene that I there wit nessed. Mr. Courtenay was sitting in the Spanish chair with his spade at his side, for he had been garden ing. His trembling wife was bathing his temples in Eau de Cologne, and Kate, almost fain ting, had her arlllS round his shoulders. Jessie, childlike in SOlTOW as in joy, was calling to him by the most endearing epithete, and nestling his cold hand in her warm embrace. I think he seems better," observed Kate, looking appealingly at me, as if in confbmation of this effort at hope. I turned from her, for I knew he was dead! Then the doctors came, and tried to take some blood from his arm, but without effect. Why sought we the living amongst the dead? He was far from us all. The waters of eternity divided us. Neither had he any more a portion in anything that was done under the sun. But how could we convince those loving ones around him that this was really the case. They would not believe us when we spoke of death. No, he breathed-he moved-all would yet be well. o 2

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134 RECOLLECTIONS OF Kate was the first who comprehended the reality of this aJRiction, and then her fears were for her mother and sister. She allowed me to lead her into the inner hall, and Jessie followed us, clinging to me with a startled look, as if fear had coiled itself ronnd her sorrow. I had for some time past thought that Kate was seriously iuclined. I now had an opportunity of seeing that the work of grace, though hitherto nn perceived by man, had taken deep root iu her heart, and silently watered by the dew of blessiug from above, was bringing forth fruit nnto holiness. The suddenness of this bereavement eaused her quite to forget her natural timidity; keeping her aIm ronnd her sister's waist, she fell on her knees, and called on the Comforter for aid. Oh! it was not as a stranger, she approached her God! but, blessed privilege, it was the cry of a trembling ehild to a pityiug Father-" Thou hast been my help," these were her first words. "Leave me not, neither for sake me, 0 God of my salvation." I am sure she did not remember that I was in the room, and it was sweet to hear h e r askiug for strength for her bewildered sister. That night of weeping! It has been one of those solemn memories that tho mi s ts of many years have had no power to shroud. It has stood vividly before

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 135 me in the merry time of enjoyment, whispering "beware," whenever human affection has appeared to be flourishing in its own security. In long after years, when my heart has been low and my spirit fa.int, the childlike trust of thltt dear girl in her hour of woe has with rebuking voice said, 0 thou of little faith!" There we sat till the grey morning dawned, bring ing with it to those suffering sisters a fresher sense, as it were, of their heavy loss. A. few short hours ago, and the voice of mirth and of gladness had been amongst them; now the spoiler had made all desolate! Death had come up into their windows! It was a day of darkness and of gloominess-a day of clouds and of thick darkness, as morning spread upon the mountains. A.s I looked on Jessie's face, and saw its touching innocency of expression 80 shrouded in sadness, I thought of those words, "Bashan languisheth and Carmel, and the flower of Lebanon languisheth." Then "Na.nny," the faithful servant of many years, called me to see "Old Massa." Already he was in his grave clothes. With the love of flowers so common amongst a simple people, the negroes had strewed his narrow bed with jasmins and honey suc kle. Roses too were there. Oh, what a cona 3

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136 RECOLLECTIONS OF trast Their deep rich hues agajnst hls sallow cheek. What would I not have given to have heard hlm say that he left us clinging unto Jesus that he had laid hold of some of the promises-that the mists of self-righteousness had been scattered from his soul by the breath of the Omnipotent, and that J esllS the beloved of the Father had stood before bim, as the Redeemer in whom alone he could find acceptance with God. But all was silence now the eternal unbroken silence of death Poor Mrs. Courtenay! It was a difficult task to administer consolation to her. She knew nothing of the brook that flows by the wayside of the sorrowful Christian pilgrim, therefore in this her hour of sad ness she could not even for a moment lift up her head. She knew nothing experimentally of Rim who giveth hls people songs in the night, and who has so sustained hls sn1l'ering children, that boldly they have glorified God in the midst of the fires. At thls moment I see before me her emaciated face, for sorrow had done its work, and her appear ance was greatly altered. There she sat in the chair he had so lately occupied. She never spoke of her sorrow, but tears that did not flow stood glittering in hor eyes whenever I made my

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I A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 137 appearance. The husband of her youth was gone from her, and it was night, dreary night in her soul. Some weeks passed; the world Wked of her quiet resignation, and she tried to persuade herself that she acquiesced in the will of God. I know the sudden death of one so dear to her had awakened wit.hin her breast serious thoughts of death, judgment, and eternity; but ala8! as the months passed on, these apprehensions became weaker, and she ensconced herself in the vain secu rity of a harmless life. If I asked her to examine herself, to search into her own heart, "I am not worse than my neigh bours," she would reply. In the sight of God I know we are all sinful, but I never make the cruel remarks that we hear from 1t{iss Selby, and she you know is religious." Here agnin was the evil inftuence of an incon sistent professor. When I pressed upon her forget fulness of the God in whom she lived, and moved, and had her being when I reminded her of her entanglements in earthly affections, of the soul crippling cares of life, she would try, as it were, to neutralize the effect of these charges, which her conscience told her were true, by placing in the opposite scale some good deed or kindly action, and

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138 RECOLLECTIONS OF she was an amiablc creature; quite forgetting that our best p e rfoI'mances are in themselves RS nothing worth, being mer ely tho evidence of that love to God which eauses us to seek to do those things that are pleasing in his sight. With her husband's income Mrs. Courtenay's only support fled. The pleasant house, with its elegant garden and carefully tended plants passed into the hands of strangers. .And it was melancholy to see thosc dear girls in closc lodgings, busy with their drawings, by the sale of which they endeavoured to support themselves and their parent. Oh, what an unspeakable blessing it was, that ere the evil day r.ame, Kate had taken to herself the whole armour of God. She is the strongest amidst that party, by turns comforting her mother, and en couraging her sister. But what is this? Kate the contented Kate:has lost h e r wonted smile; her heart is faint, hcr eyes are dim with weoping. The packet letter is in her hand; she has heard from him she so entirely lov es, and on the score of prudence, in consequence of lfrs. Courtenay's rcverse of f ortune, hc breaks off the engugtllnent lIonour, truth, all are forgotten, and hen cefort h he says they must be as s(l'angers -

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A naR IN SPANISH TOWN. Be strong, Kate, be strong; there is one who changeth not, lIe hath loved thee with an everlast ing love ho who is tho same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. The whirlwind of this sudden had passed over her with fury; and she, who a little while before had been strengthening others, was now pros trated by the storm. As I left her for the night, her eonvulsi ve sobs were hearl-rending. "There is Ono grenter than man, dear Miss Courtenay," I said, "who earnestly remembers thee till" s I thought she looked gratefully at me, but she made no reply. There are many who speak deridingly of this SOITOW, but they those who know nothing of the depths of human affection. Dear Kate! how did she stand, now that this un expected poverty had put him in whom she so im plicitly trusted far from her. Blessed be God, she held fast the profession of her faith without wavering; she leaned on her Saviour as she passed through the dark waters, and it was no ideal peace that filled her soul. The world looked wise, and said she submitted

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140 RECOLLECTIONS OF because she was compelled to do so. Nay, there were some who whispered, that pride kept her up j but we forgive them, for they knew not the well spring of hope whence she drew supplies of com fort. Though gladness had been token away from her, and joy out of the plentiful field, she knew that, not without cause, had her God done all that he had dono. It is a noble sight to mark the Christian grap pling with the severe sorrow in the strength of One who is mighty in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the God of the armies of Israel. The angels stand by and watch such a contest. The weapons of this warfare are not carnal j the helmet of salvationthe breastplate of righteousness-the shield of faith -the sword of the spirit-all aro in use, and as we mark resignation co.lmly smoothing tho disquieted brow, as the garment of praise takes the place of the spirit of heaviness, we look round on a scoffing world, and triumphantly exclaim, "Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." And Kate's smile returned, looking, I thought, sweeter j for the twilight of chastened thought that surrounded it, even as the heavens at sunset, aro moro striking in their beauty than during the sunny

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 141 glare of day. Again, though with a trembling voice, she joined in the evening hy mn of praise ::" What though the fig tree languish, what though the vine deeay, Though the dark olive's beauty Be fading fast away! A Father calls his ehildren To bow before the rod; With his sustaining power Our souls rejoice in God. How sweet to learn in sorrow, .All trustfully to stand, To wait in utter darkness, A Father', guiding hand. To wait, and hear the whisper, 'Tis I, be not afraid;' To learn the Saviour healeth The wounds that he hath made." And then I left Spanish Town It was a sorrow ful parting; an unusual sadness took possession of me. Again I was at my pleasant mountain home. My ministerial engagements my pastoral duties occu pied my time as before; yet my thoughts were con tinually wandering to the little room in the narrow street in Spanish Town. Xate had some connexion with every thought. Her patient industry-her chastened smile her childlike confidence in her

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142 RECOLLFArrroNS OF Heavenly Father, thnt, though painful to her, aU was right. Ono evening in particular I recollect, wher I must hnve been very intent on my musings, for old Clarence had upset my little tea-tray, and had actually broken my favourite cup, from which, bachelor-like, I fancied my tea had a better flavour, ere I was aroused to a sense of his presence. "Have I not been at home nearly a month, Clarence?" I said, without regarding thp fragments of broken china in his hands, or the lake of tea in which I was sitting a huge island Yes, Massa," replied tho old man, "Massa no been at home t'ree week, and old Clarence bring him tea, and neber do like dis here before." The truth is, I had remembered it was time to send the promised letter to my young friend, 80 smiling on Clarence, as if he had not been warring with my favourite china, and telling him to bring me any cup he liked, I hastily despatched, as I thought, my evening meal, and had arranged my inkstand and writing beok quite to my satisfaction on the yacea-wood table in the corner, when I was reminded by Clarence that the guava jelly was un tasted, and the plantain untouched. Never mind, old man," I said, assuming a busi-

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A YE.Ul IN SPANISII TOWN. 143 ness-like air, as if to impress him with the idea that trifles, such as eating and drinking, were things of c-moment to me, "to-morrow is post day, and I have letters that must be written." I began, My dear Miss Courtenay;" then with my head resting on my hand, I was lost in thought. I saw before me through the dark boughs of the tamarind trees, the glorious sunset-I saw the white datura peeping from its nook of leaves-I inhaled its perfumed breath, and I well remember that I felt a sense of loneliness I had never before expe rienced. The mountajns were enveloped in mist ere I broke from my reverie, and then I continued my letter. The next morning it was posted, and my anxiety for an Il,nswer, which could not arrive before a week had passed away, was oppressive. The sea-breeze came, the snnny breeze, and rioted amongst the trees every day, and shook the rafters of my little house. Then came night with its gifts of dews and sleep, and the glowing stars followed in its train. Day after day passed, and never before had the week seemed so tardily to advance. The Sabbath came the stilly Sabbath and if in spite of my clerical duties and long engage ments in the school-room some thoughts of the ex pectsd letter on the morrow did intrude, I prayed p

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144 RFOLLECTIONS OF that strength and heavenly hope might be given me, to meet soberly and steadfastly the joys and sorrows of every-day life; for it is not only in the unexpected good fortune or overwhelming affliction that we need the strong arm of heavenly support, but it is in the familiar occurrences of social life, in the chafing trial or sudden delight, that it is good to hear the whisper, "This is not your rest." Another day, and the letter from Kate was in my hand -so gentle -so grateful breathing in every line the spirit of genuine piety. Yet was I dissatis fied, I cannot tell why. I read it again and again, only to feel more desolate than ever Oh! how pleasant it wonld be, I thought, to have a companion by my side, to drive with me in the evening, or to enliven my morning ride by cheerful conversation. I well remember how wistfully I would sometimes sit aud look at the handsome arm chair, a present from my godmother in England, thinking how much its appearance would be im proved if some fair form reclined therein. It was in vain that many young ladies of my acquaintsnce passed before my mental view, none wonld do to grace my chair but the gentle softened Kate, with her drooping head and sweet face, olmost concealed by clustering curls with the spirit that suffered long and was kind with the heart that

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YEll IN SPANISH TOWN. 145 though tenderly loving to the deal' household band, bore about with it an affection that kept in subordi nation all human love. Earthly accomplishments have their fascination, worldly courtesy has its charm; but when religion influences the actions, when Christian love, as the day-spring from on high, dissipatss the mists of selfishness and worldly policy, then we carry about with us a secret talisman, that compels even an un thinking world to stand still and admire, then are we doing His will who has said, "Let your light so shine before men, that they seeing your good works, may glorify your Father who is in heaven." Time passed on Another year was at its close. I had once or twice visited the Courtenays; and now that mountain ajr was recommended for Mrs Courtenay, I suggested that the little family should spend a few weeks at my rectory. 'h08e who have passed their lives in England may be surprised that I should have made such a proposition, but they must remember that there are in Jamaica no hotels in the country; neither are there lodgings to be obtained for the converuence of those who seek chango of air. It is, therefore, no uncommon thing even for a bachelor clergyman to entertain a party of his lady friends; and though English etiquette may look scornfully on such an p 2

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146 RECOLLECTIONS OF arrangement, many happy hours of social intercourse are thus afforded to thoso who would otherwise be subject to the dreariness of an almost unbroken solitude. Oh, how well I remember, though long years have passed away since that happy time, the visit of those dear friends to my solitary home; yes, through the vista of memory tllat past stands out clearly before me Mrs. Courtenay is weaq ,vith her ride, and rc clines on the sofa Jessie in her childish and affec tionate way, asks my leave to make tea, and afte r laughing at every flaw in my bachelor cups, as she calls them, begins to rally me on my abstraction, for you must know that Kate was really and bodily sit ting in my arm-chair. I am afraid I bchaved veq badly on this occasion; but we all have our hours of weakness, times when human affection has too much sway over the heart. It was not till Kate promised to be mine, that I was aroused to a trembling sense of the danger of my own position. So sweet a boon had I received from my God, that in the enjoyment of it I feared lest my heart should bc drawn from the Giver. There was, however, a little interruption to our happiness, which I was perhaps too selfishly en Joytng. One evening, an unu s ual bustle under the cluster

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t A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 147 of cocoa-nut trees which stood immediately in front of our house, announced an arrival. Jessie starts from the low ottoman on which, as was genern1ly her custom, she had been watching the crimson close of day, and with a sort of semi-comic expression, mingled, however, I must say, with a gleam of dis appointment, exclajms, "Miss Selby!" We look at each other as if paralysed by the unex pected intelligence. I know not how it was We had never discussed Miss Selby's character, but we all intuitively feel that the spirit of disquietude must follow in her track. I do not make any observation but a sigh escapes me as I leave Kate's side to welcome ],fiss Selby. My conscience too reproaches me with disBimulation, as with an effort at cheerfulness, I lead our visitor into the midst of our happy circle. Row glaring were her inconsistencies! She had no appetite, but the roasted Guinea bird grew less before her. She had not strength to sit up, and yet during the first half hour of her sojourn with us, she had perambulated both our halls, and discovered that my book-case had a tottering foundation, and that the frame-work of my very old mahogany clock was unsound. It was well Jessie's roguish look s escape d her notice. Indeed, had it not been for a beautiful pet r 3

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148 RECOLI.ECTIONS O}' dog, that this lady brought with her, I fear our young friend's intolerance of our new guest would have been pa.infully visible, even on this the first evening of her arrival. Once or twice during this visit, our sweet home happiness was invaded; but I believe the cloud that darkened the sunshine of our joy brought the fer tilizing shower, for Kate was strengthened in forbear ance, and Jessie learnt that she had a wayward heart that was continually warring with the better prin ciple implanted there. I humbly hope by him who has promised in his faithfulness to complete the work which he has begun. In memory's land, that dear old room is still visible to me. Kate sits with her head bent over her work. Now she throws back her hair, andlooks up with an expression of unfeigued surprise at Miss Selby, who, quite forgetting the meekness and gen tleness that attaches itself even to the profession of Christia.nity, is taking me to task in the most un feminine way for allowing Jessie to hum worldly melodies, on my own place on the Sabbath day. It was in vain I told her, I had known nothing of this ; it was to no purpose I assured her, I would have remonstrated with my yDlmg friend, who, from affection to me, if from no higher motive, would I was sure never thus again have transgressed.

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 149 But Miss Selby was not to be silenced. As is the case with many of these discord-loving tempers, she had preferred a charge, and even were the matter ami cably 8nanged, oll would be disappointment. The eloquence of discontent, and the energy of excited feeling, would have no field for action. As we continue in conversation, I turn and look at Jessie. The flush of indignation burns in her cheeks, and mounts to her forehead, at being thus accused by Miss Selby. "Don't you think, Mr. Scott," she said, with a little unbecoming pride, "that if the restriction put by the Apostle on women as regarded speaking, had extended to the drawing-room, as well as the church, it would have been a good thing." Jessie had no respect for Miss Selby, and never was I more con vinced than in the present instance, that from the very moment the Christian professor ceases to be consistent, he ceases to be useful. Miss Selby met this observation with a sharp reply; and Jessie told her that, at oll events, melody was better than discord. How far these combatants in words would have proceeded, I know not, had I not interfered. "Jessie," I said, and there was gravity in my tone, for I was grieved at seeing one thus excited, whom I was endeavouring to guide into the paths of peace,

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1S0 RECOLLECTIONS OF the Sabbath is the Lord's, every hour is his;" when we devote these days to his service, the :MJghty God has condescended to say, "They shall be a sign be tween me and thee." Then I asked her if she re membered the little fable about humility, the lowly violet that did not raise its modest head to receive the sun's reviving glance, but a coronet soon glowed on its leaves, for a sunbeam was so touched with the humility of this gentle flower, that it converted the dew-drop of night into sparkling diamonds "0 dear Jessie," I added, "if you would be one of the great Redeemer's jewels when he makes up his o wn, you must now seek to possess the meek and lowly spirit on which he has graciously promised to look in tenderness and love Jessie was an impetuous, but an open-hearted and ingenuous girl, and as she acknowledged her fault with sweet simplicity of manner to Miss Selby, whilst the tears glistened in her dark eyes, she looked a living illustration of the dcw-gemmed flower Miss Selby received her acknowledgment with proud condescension, saying she would forgive not ouly seven times, but seventy times seven; and I thought how much sorrow and suffering would per haps b e necessary to infuse into her soul the spirit of the little child, to lay the tyrant self prostrate in the dust.

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A YE'R IN Sl'ANISH TOWN. 151 How unloveable are such dispositions, and when over all this imtability and peevishness the mantle of religious profession is thrown, incalculable is the mischief done to the cause of God. Miss Selby seemed to carry about within her breast a machinery for discomposing others, and in the calm of a peaceful household this track on the quiet waters Wllll of necessity very clearly visible. If Kate looked paler than usual, or if a shade of anxiety brooded on Jessie's brow, I well knew the engine of disquietude that had been at work. She had hinted to Kate that a wish to improve her cir cumstances must have led her to tbink kindly of me, or she had thought there was unbecoming levity in Jessie's peculiarly artless and playful manner. Miss Selby stood amongst us like the tree under whose shade all green things droop, and I do not believe that one of our party wore the aspect of sad ness when the time of her departure amved. She felt this, and attributed it to her unwavering firmness and decision on religious subjects. Alas! she groped her way in darkness, and talked of light. She told us again and again of her trials, her tempta tions and her sorrows, but her blessings I fear they were thrown out of the scale altog et her. Oh, could but some portion of Hermon's d e w have rested on those ruffled feelings, the spirit of love would have

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152 RECOLLECTIONS OF unfolded to the moisture, and that selfishness so pro minent in her character would have been exchanged for something of the mind that was in Christ Jesus. And now you must think of Kate as a bride. At the Catbedral Church in Spanish Town we were married. Jessie was bridesmaid; myoId friend, Dr. Evans, officiated on that occasion. Mrs. Courtenay, aud a cousin of hers, Mr Stewart, with Miss Selby, and Mr. llitymond, completed the bridal party. I do not remember Kate's dress, but I know that a !'Cal fragrant wreath of orange flowers circled her pale brow, and the tears fell fast on her trembling hand as I placed the glittering circ let on her delicate finger. Miss Selby, by the propelling power of some un controllable impulse caused a little discomfort on this memorable day, but it was only a passing cloud. The sunbeams of gladness were so vivid about us, that the vapours of discord could not live in their radiance. She only hoped Kate would be steady, and not change her mind again. She only wondered lfra. Raymond was so cheerful, for her own part, she had thought a wedding party would be quite too much for her sister; and at breakfast she plainly told me, she marvelled I had chosen Kate; for that she saw no marks of decision of character about her Shall I do away with all the romance of my tale,

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A YEAR IN SPANISH TOWN. 153 if I tell you that the silvery-haired lady, who now smiles on you, from that faded w-m-chair, is no other than the sweet Kate of long ago. Through evil report, and good report--on the rugged road and on the flower strewn path-through storm and calmthrough light and darkness, together we have jour neyed through this vale of tears, tasting, I am per suaded, in our somewhat solitary and secluded life, far more happiness than is generally the lot of man. Sorrows have visited us; aga.in and again death has broken the household chain, but we have been en abled to rest on our Saviour God; in the time of trouble he has hid us in the pavilion of his love, and we have found that he is a Sun and Shield, and that blessed, thrice blessed, are those who put their trust in Him. Mrs. Raymond went on her way so quietly, that I have sometimes seen the look of surprise on the face of a Christian friend, when I have mentioned her devotion of heart to her master, when I have told how sorrows led her to turn her face towards Zion. It ie true she did not move in a sphere where she was called upon to engage in any public duties; but ask of those who met her in the private walks of life, and they will tell you of her enduring charity, her unwearying efforts amongst the humblest of her

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154 RECOLLECTIONS dependents to speak of the Saviour's love, and to tell from her own experience of the peace that is the heritage of the servants of the Lord. She was taken off by scarlet fever, but such a blessed testimony she left of his faithfulness who has promised to walk with his children through the dark valley, that I never think of her last hours without feeling a r.alm steal over my soul. To her humble lodgings in Spanish Town, I hastened, at her request, to bid her farewell. The room was very close, and the small bedstead was placed at the window, from which through an opening in the narrow street you saw the magni ficent mountJlins in the distance. "He is so faithful," she said, whilst light not of this world beamed from her eyes i "not one thing has failed of all that he promised me i" and then with a smile more expressive of love and gratitude than I can describe, "if this be the valley," she added, "it is not dark." "Wonderful, wonderful," she continued, looking upwards. Is all this for me? Do you not hear that Voice, a great Voice, out of Heaven, saying 'He will dwell with them i they shall be His people, the former things are passed away.''' "What a great salvation is that wlought out for

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A YE.ut IN SPANISH TOWN. 155 sinful man," she whispered. t'Tell your people, Mr. Scott, again and agajn, that the Lord is good: blessed is he who trusteth in Him." And then she would lie with her eyes closed as if looking at the things we cannot see Sometimes suddeuly she would say, "The glory of 1;he Lord doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof;" then after a pause exclaim, "And his servants shall serve him; and they shall see his face." It is pleasant," she remarked, "to sleep when one is weary; but to fall asleep in Jesus, who can tell that blessedness," there was another such honour have all His sajnts," she gently said. I had no idea she was so near her end;" another gentle sigh, and she was indeed on the bosom of her God. I love to tbink of that death-bed. I love to think of the glorious end of one of the meekest and lowliest of the Lord's servants. The world had passed her hy, aye and the Christian world, too, deceived by her retiring manner, had sometimes regarded her with mistrust; but He who seeth not as man seeth, had looked in compassion on her, and in the midst of heavy earthly trial, had said unto her "Weep not;" then her heart's wilderness became like Eden, its desert like the garden of the Lord. Through much trial the Comforter was with her, and at death He Q

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156 RECOLLECTIONS OF A YEAR IN SPANISII TOWN. for whom she had counted all as dross, gently rc ceived her into glory. I looked at her face, pale in the sleep of death. I thought of her, as some few years before when I visited her in her first sorrow. I remembered her as, at the early sacrament, she sat beside her hus band. Now she had rest, eternal rest, from the days of adversity. Sanctified affliction had accom plished its mission. The Refiner saw his own image refl ected in Ris work, and took it from the furnace of trial; therefore is she now before the throne of God, and serves rum day and night in His temple. Mrs. Courtenay and Jessi e have long passed away, and our pilgrimage is drawing to its close. The shadows of evening are around us, but the star of faith grows brighter on the twilight sky Goodness and mercy have followed us all the days of our life; and now blessed be his Dame, we can look forward with It humble but conndent hope in the merite of our Great Redeemer, to dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

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CHAPTER V. 'Edru 3l1nqnnrh. b our journey through life we meet with some who cheer a passing hour, we exchange a few words of kindness with them, and then we part. Of such we have a pleasant recollection it may be for a little while, bnt like the phosphoric track, that is visible only on the agitated waters, when the excitement occ,'lsioned by their society is over, wo think of them no more. There are othcrs, forced upon us by circumstances with whom wc must necessarily be in continual association, yet thero is but littlo sympathy between us; ano, if in complilUlco with tho injunction, to love aB brethron, WO oudcttvour to )lUlke advances towards thorn, thoy remain till insensi ble to our offons at kinduoss as wood to the lOlld stone, or the ma88i va rock to Uw pUSHing uil'. Q 2

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158 REt.l!:N )(A YN AllD. Some few there are, however, with whom on n first acquaintance we are deeply interested, nay, more, all that belongs to them, or is connected with them, has a mysterious charm for us; we have dis covered, that on the vast Bea of life, the same plank supports us-that though the wave and cloud may occasionally hide us from each other-though cir cnmstances may separate us-though a long night of sorrow may sometimes darken our intercourse, yet still we are connected conneeted by that mys terious but powerful attraction of mind with mind, for which their is no accounting, Bnd which it is most difficult even when most expedient to control. For my own part, I must confess, that on my voyage through life, such associations have ever been fraught to me with happiness, which, though sometimes troubled and harrowing in its nature has yet deserved the name, for I have taken to my heart sympathy as a reviving cordial, and I have sometimes been able very great! y to com fort those whose eyes mourned by reason of afflic tion. From the first time that I become acquainted with Helen Maynard I felt we wero to be no common acquaintances. What was it that so drew me to her? I cannot tell you. Bllt, come on with me, dear friends, and as I go over the past, some amongst

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HELEN MA YN ARD. 159 you will, I know, deeply participate in all that interested me. I must then introduce you to the family at Banff Hall, for I was received as one of the household at that beautiful spot, and were I asked what it is, that sheds a halo of grateful feeling on my recollec tions of that tropic land, I should say the llna ffected warm-heartedness and genuine hospitality of the inhabitants of J ammca. There is some richly wooded hill land, looking down on Montego Bay, over which are thinly scattered pens or villas. These are generally tho abodes of the town merchants, who after the heat and burden of a weary day, are glad to breathe the cooler atmosphere of their semi-mountain homes. It seems but as yesterday my first ride to Banff Hall in company with Mr. Maynard. Hedges of the snowy jasmin fenced our path, and as we as cended, thousands of wild roses mingled their gentle fragrance with the stronger perfume of that richly scented flower. The atmosphere was soft and balmy, and the amethystine hue of the heavens just ushered in the fleeting twilight of a tropical evening. Who is singing so sweetly?" I inquired of my fri c nd, as we approached the carefully-tended Q 3

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160 HELEN MA YN A.RD. shrubbery which concealed from our view Mr. May nard's dwelling. H e l en," he sai d, "my only girl." And then we paused and listened to the song. They ten me that earthly affection through life With sadness is ever bound round j That the beautiful tree, though with lovelin e .. rife, Hath its root in a sorrowful groWld. Yet we pluok the fair bloaaoms, and dotingly pres, The thomcircled l eaves to our heart ; Oh! human affection, we prize thee not less, Ail linked unto woe as thou art." It was whilst the soft cadence of her rich voice was still on the air, that H e len came forward to meet her father. She was very pale, and h e r slight figure was almost childish She had a peculiar gracefulness of motion, and a sweetness of expression about her mouth that was most attrac tive. Her deep blue eyes were really beautiful, and so v e ry dark, I at first mistook them for black. I did not on this our first meeting notice their dreamy shadowy exp ression that so struck me afterwards, as if they were formed to ex press sorrow unutterable; but this look only rested on her gentle fa ce now and then, and whe n she

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RBLEN ?u YN AllD. 161 was perfectly at ease, it could not exist among strangers. A.s I enter into all these details, I seem, dear friends, not to be looking back into memory's faded picture-land, but the past becomes almost a part of present life. There we sit in the wide piazza, now Helen is entering with interest into details of busi ness, which can have no attractions for her, but for her father's sake. I feel creeping over me the mysterious sympathy with that household, which kindled into the warmest affection, and bound me to them, till in their sorrows and their joys, I bore no inconsiderable part. Mr. Maynard was unusually intelligent for a man of his profession. The silver and the gold possessed, I am sure intrinsically no charms for him, but as the means of educating his daughter, of filling his library, of providing for his Helen the elegancies, nay the luxuries of refined life; for the sake of these things he valued wealth. Yes, in that distant island, on the blue waters of the Carribean, far from the re side, that the Briton prizes, far from the civilization and advantages of the metropolis, we enjoyed social evenings ,vith minds unknown to fame, and yet of no despicable ma,,"'Ditude Sometimes a well in formed military or naval friend (an d Mr. Maynard was discriminating as r egar ded education) would join us in the evening, and then we would be

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162 HELEN YA.YN ARD. studious or musical or conversible, as the presiding inclination of the evening might d ete rmine. Forgive me, dear fricnds, I am an old man ;now, and I cannot rc s trajo my tears. Alas, alas, that sorrow should quench all the gladness of that home circle, yet I not repine. It was sanctmed affiiction; the chastener drew those dear ones to himself, and they now dwell where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest But I must go on with my little narrative. Come with me, then, and look at the dear old dining room, or rather at that part of tbe piazza in which this evening meal was regularly taken. There, just outside the venetians are placed the porous water jars, for, in Jammca, ice was at that time a thing unknown. The wine bottles are put" in cool," that is, they are associated with these jars, clothed in bags, which are well saturated in water. Wine is not generally decanted in a tropical country, as by this process it would lose much of its coolness and flavour, and therefore in this deshabille it is placed on the table. But the vi e w beyond. It haunts me yet. It is often vividly present with me on a sleepless night! and the tones of those glad voices I hear, and the whispering of the evcn ing breeze to the mountain cabbage; and then faces ris e up before

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BELEN MAYNA nD 163 me those of the intensely loved the long-departed-and at such momenta I am far from life ; time seems nothing-eternity is all in all Clusters of orange trees were immediately before us, then occasionally on the sloping wood land a date tree would gracefully stand, its arrowy leaves triumphantly glittering in the red gold of sunset, to which trees of a shorter growth could not aspire. In the distant lowland that extended to the sea, there was a fairy avenue of cocoa-nut trees, each of which looked no longer than our hand, and the neu tral tint floating on the atmosphe re, and r esting on the mountains, deepened at that time of the evening till it steeped the little bay in the richest purple. And then the glorious Heaven, beyond those distant mount,,;ns-now crimson-now gold-now preparing their clearest softest blue for the reception of night's chi l dren, the stars; which came forth not timorously, trembling through mist, but as if conscious that they held no inferior part in the subduing power of such an everung. Helen sits at thc head of the dinner tablo. At il'st one did not perceive the depth of that 1ltthcr's attachment to his daughter. Dctwecn Mr. Mayuard and Helen a pleasant companionship hllc! sprung up of a tendor and touching natura. He had passed through some yQIll'B of landy

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164 IrELEN 1tlAYliARD. widowhood, and just as after a dreary day, you have seen a bright line of gold on the western sky, so in the evening of his life, a joy seemed to have upon him in this increasing affection, and he little drellDlt, that it was to be shut in again and lost in a stormy night of sorrow. nut no rage of the elements can hold back the light of morning, and no earthly suffering can for one moment detain the tried and faithful spirit from going forth at the Divine com mand, to cnter into the joy of its Lord. You must say a word to me, dear young people, when thus I run away from my tale. You must lead me back to Helen. W cll, there she is. Dinner is over She has made her father's sangree, and now that she has becomc accustomed to me, she breaks from her usual quiet, and becomes a very child in playfulness ,vith that dear old man. She would provide him with spectacles and newspaper, and then in her qniet sisterly way join me in the southern piazza which was open; and as we looked at the dark logwood trees on which the silvery moonbeams trembled, she seemcd pleased if I led the conversation towards holy tllings. Again, the feeling of old times comes over me. I participate in the spirit of quiet happiness, which her very presence diffuses in that household, and again the trcmbling anxiety seems to take possession of me, the fear for our Helen, that

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HELEN If!.. YN ARD. 165 though sweetly consenting to religious doctrinethough to a cert.ain extent revering its precepts that her hope and her strength were not yet fixed on the God of Jacob. It is true no heavy sorrow had rested on her youtbful h e art, for even her mother's death had come upon her as the lighter grief of infancy, but could she bargajn on keeping the intruder from her dwelling. She would speak of God as the .All Merciful; and of the Saviour even as the chiefest in ten thousand; but this was more from what she read t.haD what she felt. Yes, dear Helen, I well knew that in her daily repetition of the Lord's Prayer she did not realize the spirit of adoption-she knew no thing of the confidencE', which in the common place embarrassment or bewildering perplexity would send forth the childlike and trustful cry of Abba, Father. My chapel was scarcely a quarter of an hour's ride from Banff Hall. It was a romantic ride too, and there was a depth of solitude around in lmison with the wildness of the scenery. A dilapidated place enough waa that chapel. The bats held evening entertainments in the roof, and the owl hooted to its mate from an aged cotton tree, that stood befol'6 the eastern windows. My little church waa no wild ruin that added beauty to the valley in which it was situated, but if the truth must be told from one point of view, it had the appearance of a stable-

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, 166 HELEN from another it looked like a barn, and even with the gold of snnsct streaming on it, it had a gro tesque and uncouth appearance. Yet it was the house of God, the place of prayer, and simple hearts were weekly gathered thore, to "Give thanks unto the God of Israel, to bless the name of the Lord." In spite of its unpicturesque appearance and dingy walis, I have pleasant recollections clinging to that spot happy memories of peaceful Snndays of eheerful faces in the dear comer pew-the only habitable one-with which the new church now standing on that spot is altogether nnassociated. With much difficulty we at last established some thing to which we were determined to give the name of Sunday School. Our scholars consisted of a very few children, and a greater number of adults who l'emnined in churoh about an hour after service, and there, assisted by Helen, who taught the younger ones to read, I endeavoured to impress on the minds of these simple people the leailing truths of Chris tianity. It would have been no bad subject for a painter, the return of our mountain congregation to their respective homes. How many sturdy, rough-looking ponies, were tied to those mango trees during our morning service.

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IIELEN )1.< YN ARD. 167 After church, the negroes dividing themselves into diiferent groups, would discuss matters of immediate interest to themselves, and sometimes even their parson's character would pass under review. "My King," exclaimed a thoughtful looking African female, as she hastily despatched the last morsel of her mango; for on this fruit is their negro's Sunday dinner generally made. "ffim word sweet like sugar-cane, and him 'tand up 'trong like aloe. Theu a rougher looking woman remonstrated with her friend. "Hi, no-him word no come down like gulley? No 'tanding up against Massa Scott." What a bustle of preparation there was; indeed I have found from experienoe, that in noise consists much of the happiness of these people. Tbose amongst the old men who were invalids would bind round their heads two or three handkerchiefs, crowning them with a spreading Panama hat, and with brains thus sheltered, mount their little pony, altogether unconcerned for the unprotected state of their feet, which, even in rajny weather, stockingless, and shoeless, they would carelessly place in their stirrup. Then a sturdy daughter would walk by the side of her father, or a healthful wife by her husband, with R

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168 HELEN llA nr .. \RD. her unconscious but happy infant cradled snugly on her back, in a manner peculiar to the African. There they would go on their homeward way with contentment in their hearts, even in thosc times of slavery, that gave a ringing and joyous melody to their laughter, and sent a brightness to their eyes, which the caressed and flattered lady, in the midst of freedom and luxury, has sometimes lacked; proving that sorrow and happiness are more equally distri buted in this world than we imagine, by Him who stayeth His rough wind in the day of the East wind. I do not tbink, that at this time there was any shadow on the peculiarly sweet happiness of Banff Hall. In many families there is some sour temper that has a corrosive influence on all, there is generally some little drawback to the household happiness of every day life. The servants are inattentive or un ruly, and the lady consequently dissatisfied. The Master is imperious, and the spirit of fear is expressed in the eager eye the anxious look, and the varying cheek. But here were the faithful negroes of many years, looking on their young mistress as a child that was to be humoured and cared for; a father, whose love unfolded in the sunshine of a smile, and not in the

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HELEN 169 petulant anxiety, that embitters affection. Alas! alas! man makes no offering to God in return for mercy The landsman owns no blessing in the beacon light, it is when we are on the rock-circled billows, that we are reminded of its usefulness, and it is too often from the depths of sorrow that we learn with full purpose of heart to cry unto the Lord. Helen became as a sister to me, and I often play fully rallied her on the marked attentions of the Reverend Herbert Everton, a young clergyman, who really was a true disciple of his Master's, an earnest devoted Christian. At first she took it all in an unconcerned and cheerful way, and would ask me if I wished her to leave 80 happy a home. It was about this time that I particularly observed the watchful affection of Mr. Maynard for his darling child. How proud and happy he would look as she sat in quiet converse with Mr. Everton. I remember, too, that Helen's sweet face often wore the thoughtful shadowy expression, of which I have before spoken; and although she met her father with the same earnest affection, the old look of trustfulness had almost entircly vanished, and was replaced by a half timid, half sorrowful smile. Once when her father playfully asked her who was her favourite guest at R 2

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170 lrELEN MAYNARD. Danfl' Hall, she looked painfully confused for a moment, and then sweetly replied: "Mr. Scott, papa;" and the sisterly smile played on her lips. Mr. Maynard had not perceived it; but I saw that tbe cloud of anxiety, though at this time small indeed as a man's hand, had already risen above the hith e rto clear horizon. Oh, had she then gone to the Redeemer to bespeak as it were help for the future, had she at the first threatening of the storm taken shelter under the Rock of Ages, the waves of bitter trial would not so rudely hav e beaten over her. But, as is the case with many oth ers, though she could understand that in heavy sorrow, prayer must be a relief, she knew nothing of that frce access to God reconciled through Christ, in every place, under any circumstances, in the slight embarrass ment or the crushing woe. One evening I accidentally surprised her in tear s "Miss Maynard," I aaid, "my friend, my sister, I have for some time observed your unusual dejec tion. I will not inquire the cause. You are sad, and I may speak to you of Him who loves to comfort those who mourn." Ah," she r e plied, "if I were as you are, it would be very different; but if I am ashamed to own to myself, that my presont cause of disquietude

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ID'..LEN MAYNARD 171 is sorrow, how can I take the matter to Omni potence." Because," I replied, "the Gospel reveals to us Jehovah as incarnate, as tAking our nature upon Him, that he might be Sympathiser as well as Deliverer, that we might boldly make known every perplexity to Rim who is ever touched with the feeling of our infi I'lnities." She saw her father approaching, and hurriedly whispered: "Thank you, dear Mr. Scott; say no more to night." I seem to see her now before me, as in her own earnest manner, in which there was a strange mixture of sadness and playfulness, she went for ward to meet her father, accosting him in those endearing epithets which seem so peculiarly to ex press the love of parent and child. Now she was clingiag to his arm, and now she was gently pass ing her soft, white hands over his pale cheeks. As he drew her to his side on the sofa, and tenderly looked down on her, how deeply he sighed, not, I am persuaded, from anxiety, but from that flllness ofhearl which is sometimes mysteriously overpower ing, even when we hold to our bosom the obj ect dearest to us in life. In long after years, that father's look has been with me. I have seen the n 3

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172 ITELEN MADURD. orphan struggling without sympathy on her lonely way, and have remembered it then. I have watched the motherless boy plunge into wild excess, unwarned and unreproved; and when the world has been loud in its censure, that look has been present to me, and I have sighed to think how ready we are to blame the erring, and how slow to lead him to One who would not only be the guide of his youth, but the strength of his man hood-the stay of his declining years About a week after I had held this conversation with Helen, she brought her work to the library, and apologizing for invoning a room, which the kind hospitality of Mr. Maynard allowed me to consider almost as my own, she seated herself on a low fauteil ncar the door that opened on the piazza. For some time she plied her needle with un wonted alacrity; at length, looking up at me with a bright smile, which in an instant, however, gave way to an expression of real sadness. You will not help me out," she said, "and so now I am going to try if you will be indeed my brother." I saw the sweet confidence of her nature was struggling against her womanly reserve, and she became very pale, "I so need your advice-your prayers," she added.

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lIET.EN MA TN A RD, 173 What is the use of a brother?" I encouragingly said, "if we are to shut up within our bosoms every perplexity; indeed I shall need your counsel some day, my gentle sister, when I bring you tidings of my ladye love." The brightest smile I had ever seen beamed on her face, and then in a somewhat hurried and nerv ous manner, she informed me that Mr. Everton had proposed to her, and that she had told him, as she could not be his wife, she hoped he would not mention the matter to her father; "nut I fear he will," continued Helen, the tears rolling down her cheeks, "and then, papa is so fond of Mr. Everton," -and she paused, "and if he should press me to consent, or rather, if he should earnestly wish me to do so, my heart would break." This waa strong language for Helen, and there waa an excitement of maDDer about her for which the present perplexity seemed scarcely to account I felt, how much she just then needed a mother's counsel, and I could only say: "Caat all your care on Him, for he careth for you, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut the door, pray to thy Father who is in secret; thus only, dear girl, can you find guidance and peace; thus only will you be enabled to come amongst us again with the echo of that soothing aasumnce still

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174 BELEN MA YN A RD. falling on your ears, 'as one whom his mother comforteth so will I comfort you.' It was as Helen had anticipated. Mr. Everton had spoken to Mr. Maynard, and asked him to use his influence in persuading his daughter to receive bim favourably I think I see Mr. Maynard now, the flush of a painful excitement on his fine countenance, yet, the expression of tenderness eertainly trillInphing over that of I1lilled feeling ".A. gentleman in every way worthy of you, Helen," he said, "so calculated to be your defenee against this unkindly world when I am called away; highly educated too, and accomplished." Of his piety he did not make any mention, for he had not been taught that the price of heaveuly wisdom was beyond I1lbies, and that all the things that are to be desire
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HELBN MAYNARD. 175 visitor at Mr. Maynard's. I wondered 1 had never before discovered what now seemed so clear to me. A child might have seen how Helen valued his society He was an Irishman, talented, and what at that time was not often thc case with those of his profession, he was a good classical scholar, and this, with the sparkling vivacity which brightened his convcrsation, rendered him a fascinating companion -an entertaining friend. Yet he had withal a straightforward manner, that was not bluntness, a quick perception of the ridiculous, and strong powers of imitation, so that when he was amongst us he was the life of our evening party. Nevertheless, when I thought of him as connected with Helen, an overpowering sadness cnm e over me, and it was with a troubled heart, and an uneasy foreboding of evil, that I sought my sister friend, and begged to have a little conversation with her in the jasmin piazza. .A pretty place this WRS. It was open, supported by pillars, round which the jasmiu, the grenadilla, and the red-Indian creeper twined in close companionship, mingling their beauty and their fragrance. As if no gulf of years now separated me from that past, I seem to be standing there. The purple mountains are wrapped in the silvery halo of a tropi cal moonlight. A little to the left, the broad, white

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176 HELEN VA YNARD. sea is glistening, against which the trees just before us stand in dark contrast, save when they fling abroad their branches to play with the land breeze, then they too catch, for a few moments, some of tho silvery rays. Helen, in her clear, white dress, comes gently forward somewhat timidly, yet not with all the reserve I had anticipated. As the night on the dark-blue sky before us, lay the shadowy look in her deep eyes; but the sister's smile is on her lips, and as she gives me her hand in the confidence that belongs only to early youth, the feeling of distrust towards Captain Ingram, is strong withjn me. I long to tell you," were her first words, "Captain Ingram is to spllak to papa to-morrow, and to ask him to consent to our union." It is then 8S I Jetvred," I sorrowfully said. Why do youJear?" she eagerly inquired. "Is he not all that heart could wish ?" In the simplicity of her earnestness, too plainly shewing me how she had given away, in its first freshness, all the affec tion of her unsuspecting heart. "To speak faithfully, dear Helen," I onswered, I fear for you, because Captain Ingmm lives for the world, he is actuated by no highor motive than the desire of its applause; of the word of God and its promises the throne of grace and its privileges,

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HELEN MAYNARD. 177 he knows nothing, and what will you do with such 11 guide, when the dark waters of Jordan are swelling around you?" Yet how could I blame that motherless girl Had her father not given his consent to her daily associa tion with Captain Ingram? and even now it was not for the sake of religious principle that Mr. Maynard preferred Mr. Everton for his daughter, though I believe, that uninfluenced by piety, as was the father's heart at this time, he put more trust in him who openly served and daily walked with the Lord God of Israel. Dear Helen! although I was blaming him she so loved, she never once made an irritated observation, or gave an impatient reply. I told her of the dangers that would beset her if associated with one who feared not God. I asked her how she could expect to keep his word, or fear his name, when she had wilfully placed herself in the midst of careless ness and infidelity ? Can you hope, dearest friend," I said, "as you leave your father's home with one who has tamcd his back upon the pleasant land, that on you the blessing of that promise will rest,-" Lo, I am with you always." She wept bitterly as thus I spoke. Go at once to the Strengthener," I continued,

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178 HELEN MAYNARD. "and he will even now give you power to resist this fiery temptation. Purcha se not a little troubl e d earthly happin ess by the ali e nation of your Saviour's lov e by the wrath of the I,am b." "Oh, Mr. Scott," she sai d, "do you not think wors e of Captain Ingram than he deserves? and what am I, that I should withdraw from bim on account of any fan c i e d superiority of my own?" You are deceiving yourself," I replied. "Of superiority I am not speaking; but have you never felt that the world around you was unsatisfactory, and in trouble such as you have already had, have you never looked towards Him who is invisible, and been comforted? Take heed, I beseech you, how you quench the strivings of the spirit, how you e nter without breastplate or shield on the hazardous and toilsome service of a world that will r e p ay you with remorse and woe." I had spoken more seriously than I had at first intend e d, and H e len was overcome, and did not join us aga.in that evening. Mr. Maynard, as I had expected, refused to li ste n to Captain Ingram's proposal, and requested he would altog ethe r discontinue his visits at Banff Hall. I f elt my heart drawn towards Helen on this ocr-nsion. The re IV as no theatrical expression of

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UELEN MAYNARD. 179 feeling-no hysterical excitement. She knew that in this matter her father was actuated by tender love for her; she knew that he too was suffering, and though at first she was much overpowered, yet she soon came amongst us again, somewhat subdued in manner, but still the spirit of our quiet home happiness. With her father she was more tender, but not so playful; and though I now never mentioned to her Captajn Ingram's name, I hoped she had gone in the shadow of her sorrow to her God, and from his treasury supplied with some of the Balm of Gilead, with peace that the world giveth not. Mr. Everton, too, returned to Montego Bay, and Relen went on her quiet way, busy with her house hold duties, and devoting part of the morning to study. Weeks, months passed on, and if there were a deeper shade of sadness on Relen's brow, she strug. gled against giving way to grief; and whilst she carefully avoided all allusion to Captain Ingram, she sometimes, even in the pre.ence of her father, would speak of Mr. Everton, the loss of whose society Mr. Maynard began at length opeul y to regret. It was one evening, I well remember, towards Christmas, when the north winds were unusually s

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180 IIELEN MAYNARD. strong, that Mr. Everton, with perhaps a little re serve in his manner, again appeared amongst us. Yon must let me remind you, dear young friends, that my tale is not one of fiction-the occurrences I am relating to you are simply those that took place in real life j they are facts to which I cannot even now recur without earnestly desiring that you may in the morning of your days seek your Saviour as your friend, and live so near to him that you may pour forth your heart before him, till above the turmoil of life shall rise the accents, "This is the way, walk ye in it j" so shall the weakness of your youth be girt with the strength of Omnipotence, and as you advance on the chequered path of life, you shall look upwards with a smile that earthly sorrow cannot quench, and gratefully say, "Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his strength, whose hope is in the Lord his God." Every day but Sunday Mr. Everton was at Banff Hall, and every e vening Helen appeared to b e exert ing herself to please her father. She would ask him if she should sing his favorite songs with Mr. Everton, and then whilst doing so, unconsciously convinced every one around, that the effort was almost too much for h er. She would study German with him dili gently, and the progress s h e made was so rapid that she astonished h e r teacher. There was an

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HELEN MA YN ARD, 181 activity of restlessness about her, altogether different from that buoyant spirit of healthful enjoyment that animated her when first we met. Helen was at this time, Rimply from affection to her father, striving agajnst the attachment, that parental love could not sanction. I believe she prayed, that is, that she went over the form of accustomed words every morning; she shut her door, but she could not shut out the distracting thoughts that perplexed her, and in the embarrassment of her present trial she breathed to God, through Christ, no fervent prayer for relief, and therefore the fragrance of that pro mise never revived her drooping heart. I will be with thee in trouble." I believe that, at this time, had Mr. Everton agajn asked for her band she would have consented to be come his wife. Perhaps he dived into her feelings; perhaps he saw the motives which now actuated her. He would look earnestly at her, in a tender pitiful way, and when her cheek became pale and her dark eyes lost their britliancy, he urged Mr. Maynard to consult a phy ffician, and it was a trying sight to watch him binding down his feelings in reserve and silence, yet remaining near her, as if misery in her presence were better than desolation without her. I sometimes thought that Mr. Maynard was trifling S 2

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182 HELEN MA YN!.RD. with this gentleman's feelings. In his anxiety for Helen, he certJlinly had forgotten the sorrow he might be causing another; but Mr. Everton knew something of the strength made perfect in our weak ness, he knew something of the plenitude of comfort, of the peace inexpressible given to the seeking tone immersed in earthly trouble Though with regard to his affection for Helen, all seemed vexation of spirit; he knew there was a fountain of happiness at God's right hand, of which those who thirsted might freely drink He waited on the Lord, and his strength was renewed, and when he bade adieu to our home circle, it was with a calmness of manner which shewed that the peace of God kept his heart and mind through Christ J esUB. Yes, Mr. Everton left us, and rather suddenly too, and Mr. Maynard looked harassed and perplexed The little cloud I had noticed on the far horizon was spreading-Helen had become habitually grave, but though the smile was almost quenched, the sister's kindness was heard in her tone and seen in her gentle eye. I tolcl her to seck comfort from her God. I am not sorrowful," she replied. Oh how her looks belied her, "but Papa is," she continued, "and I sometimes wish you wonld talk to him and beg him not to be so uneasy about me; when we arc together

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HELEN .M..4. YN ARD. 183 he can scarcely take his eyes from my face, and if inadvertently I sigh, he is discomposed for the rest of the evening." What a blight had come over us all; in fact some change was necessary for Helen, and as Mr. Maynru.'d could not leave Montego Bay, and as Helen entreated not to be compelled to leave him, Mrs. Cornell and her daughter Ella were invited to spend a few weeks at the hall. Helen would have remonstrated with her father against this visit. There was little congeniality of mind between herself and Ella, but she hoped, that even the excitement of visitors might rouse her father from his depression J\frs. Cornell had some knowledge of music, and was always ready to play quadrilles or waltzes, as the occasion might require, and it was, no doubt, this desirable accomplishment that made the youthful part of the community so value her society; for she had an enquiring busy manner, and her expressions, or rather her thoughts, had a natural sort of way of resolving themselves into queries. You never could be an unconcerned listener to Mrs. Cornell. She prided herself too on the aristocratic tone of her voice. This, perhaps, made her love to hear it. It might have been on this account that her questions followed each other with such relentless energy. If s 3

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184 HELEN HA TN AlUl. the day were warmer than usual, is it not 8Ul.try, she would say, thus commanding your attention, for common politeness required an answer. If she but dropped her pocket handkerchief, and you gave it to her again, nm I not troublesome, would be the catechetical remark. Poor Helen! How I pitied her for the marLyrdom she endured in answer-giving. Yet it must have drawn her, though unple.MlUltly, from brooding on the past, and the self-denial she was called upon to practise, was, no doubt, a medicine which, though bitter was useful, inasmuch as it drew her from self in the continued forbearance she was called on to exercise. Do you not sometimes find it solitary here, my dear? But is not Mr. Scott's society a great advantage? It was often puzzling to know to which query a reply was expected. Is not Mr. Everton a delightful man, Helen; and why have you given up your musical parties? We must have regular practising in the evening, must we not?" What was the name of that Irish gentleman who sang so sweetly?" In the perplexity which the last question caused Helen, she sheltered herself by answering the first;

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HELEN YA YN ARD. 185 and she spoke of Mr. Everton with much earnest ness, describing bim as intelligent, accomplished, md a most instructive and entertaining companion Mr. Maynard had intended this visit solely for his daughter's comfort i but he soon discovered how mis taken he had been in the plan he had adopted for this purpose. It is true, she did not brood so much on self; but there was a resigned sadness in her ma.nner, which pierced by its very passiveness that father's heart. A lady is ever known by the intonation of her voice, Mrs. Cornell would say. Mr. Cornell, before he saw her, had determined she should be his wife, from the circum stance of having overheard her speaking to her brother This recollection seemed to influence her conduct with regard to Ella, who had been so trained and tutored to think an establishment in life the first thing to be desired, that in every gentleman who approached her, she saw, or fancied she saw the cha racter of husband mysteriously shadowed forth. Ella's laugh was never known toriseaboveC; nay, when poor suffering Helen was once or twice drawn into mirth, I remember Mrs. Cornell would go to the piano, and, striking the notes as if she were tuning it, Helen dear, she would say, you are a whole tone too high.

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18G HELEN MAYNARD. Ella's manner with me was constrained and awk ward. Although scarcely seventeen, her happiness seemed bllBCd on the idea, that she might now put aside her books. She did so; bnt at the very commencement of her career, she proved, that cessation from healthful mental employment was not rest. The mind is re lieved by having something on which to put forth energies which, implanted by God, can never be ex tinguished; the listlessness of sloth did not belong to her nature, and poor Ella soon added one more to the world's thouMnds, who, whilst congratulating themselves on the delights of a vacant leisure become in reality the busy idler the reckless mischief maker, or the systematic gossip .And thus the morning of her life was passing onthus early was the radiance of it becoming overcast. Luxury could not bring contentment, nor enervation of mind peace; and, whilst she reluctantly acknow ledged that blight was on her spring, and cloud on her morning sky, in strange infatuation she turned from the a1fectionate entreaty, "Come unto me, and I will give you rest." Putting aside the inestimable privilege of devoting in early life the heart to God, vie,ving it, if such an expression be allowable through a worldly medium; how much beauty of mind is developed-how much true grace

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IO;LEN HAYNARU. 187 and case of manner become apparent, in the charac ter that has, as it were, bespoken tho strength of Omnipotence for the future trials of life. Amidst the daily din and disquietude of conflicting occurrences, such a one is soothed by the chime of heavenly promises, the tones of which the worldling doth not hear. They are calm, where others are ruffled, for their way is committed to the Lord i they arc steadfast, where others are wavering, for their stronghold is the Rock of Ages i they mount above trial on eagle's wings, where others are overwhelmed, for they wait on the Lord, and their strength is re newed i and, to a girl just entering on life, is not her very loveliness heightened, and her gracefulness of manner enhanced, when the charity that hopeth all things beams in her smile, and the cultivated mind is associated with the winning and gentle spirit that is not easily puffed up. Oh, yes i the gem may gleam in her hair, or tho diamond glitter on her brow i but, when the pearl of great price is in her bosom, the gorlliness with contentment lets fall some rays of the beauty of holiness on her face, and the ornament of a meck and quiet .pirit sheds over her whole deportment a radiance so superior to outward adorning, that the

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188 BELEN MAYNARD. careless looker on, has been constrained to say, "He beautifieth the meek With salvation./1 lIut, very far have I wandered from Helen, dear Helen, whom I see before me now, in her repressed but inwardly corroding sorrow. She afterwards told me, that she was at tbis time struggling in her own strength to do what was right. She ne.,.er once thought of the reviving assurance, "My gracc is sufficient for thee; /I and, therefore, in the multitnde of sorrows within h e r, no h eave nly comfort filled her soul. 1tfrs. Cornell, to rouse Helen, as she said, from melancholy, insisted on music. How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land, was the sorrowful exclamation of the Jewish exile many hundred years ago, and still how harshly do the notes of mirth fall on the heart that is weary with its own bitterness. Those dreary musical evenings are present with me still. There is Mr. Maynard, with bis harassed look, holding the newspaper before him, but every minute his anxious glance rests on Helen, who is listening to Miss Cornell's song, or quietly sitting by my side at the low sofa table, translating German. How painfully defined now was that shadowy ex pression in her eyes, even when she laughed it was

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TtELEN V& YNARD. 189 unchanged, and was strangely unbecoming to one so young. It would not do. Miss Cornell's efforts at spright liness, and her mamma's well-preserved cadences of tones, the most aristocratical, were all insufficient to bring anything like gladness into that party. The very chords of the piano seemed to vibrate only to sadness; but those walls were to look on deeper sorrow yet than gently, gently, you are ready to say, do not, Mr. Scott, run on with your story Well, when Mrs. Cornell found there was no hope of more enlivening society, she pleaded a sudden engagement at Montego Bay, and left our saddened party for the more sprightly community of that capital. And now a change cnme over that mountain home. Weary days and sleepless nights were Mr. May nard's portion. He saw his intensely loved child drooping, fading before his eyes. She had never murmured, and even now had it been possible, she would have married Mr. Everton for her father's sake. She was losing the elasticity of her spirit, and the very energy of her mind was failing. "What, and all this, because Helen could not many Captain Ingram, you are ready to say! Why,

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190 lfELEN MAYNARD. Mr. Scott, you are putting b e for e us tbe romance of a nov e l." "No suc h thing," deor friends. "I am telling you of one, in real life wbo did not seek strength from her God to kee p her beart with nil dilig e nce, who loved fondly and earnestly ere sbe had asked for beavenly direction; and who, in the day of temptation, uncheered by a single promise, could but seck comfort by clasping to her heort the poisonous flower, whicb, ere long, was to pierce her through with many thorns." Ah! do not, too many of you, rush on thus thoughtlessly, as if a matter of earthly affection were too trivial a thing to take to the God of Israel. Be persuaded by me, deor friends, that your path through lifo will never be a blessed one, till you have learnt to sprcad every care, every difficulty before your God. Believe the experience of an old man when he tells you, that the perplexity will be unravelledthe embarrassment lightened, and strength given to tbe failing heart, if in childlike confidence you go to Him who was in nil points tempted like as we are. Oh, bow often would the dangerous course be left unpursued, the God-estranging affection be resolutely rcpelled, if in nil places, under any circumstances, I

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HllLEN )rA YWAl!D. 191 we remembered Him, who says, "I will instruct thee, I will guide thee with mine e ye, I will lead thee in the way in which thou shouldst go." As I have before said, Mr. Maynard did not value religion. He objected to Captain Ingram principally, I belicve, because he was so unacquainted with his family; but a sharp attack offever with which Helen was at this time scized, decided Mr. Maynard on his future mode of proceeding. Without serious thought, without one breath of prayer for guidanoe, he re called Captain Ingram. Alas, alas for him, who in the perplexities of life, looks not to his Redeemcr, nor has he respect unto the Holy One of Israel. "Behold at eventide trouble, and before the morning he is not." It was a painful duty, but I remonstrated with Mr. Maynard for the sake of his beloved child. I warned him of the dangerous step he was about to take; I told him my fears concerning Captain Ingram, that hc was a godless careless man; Can you trust him with your child?" I said, Can you give her a sweetened poison, and expect it to be a r cstomtive? But Mr. Maynard would not look on the shadows of Captain Ingram's character, and he tried to comfort himself with the idea that he could discern in him no palpable fault. Besid0s too, Mr. Maynard had healYl T

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192 HELEN MAiNARD. something of the respectability of Captajn Ingram's family, and as he had, as yet, kept inviolate the world's code of honor, Mr. Maynard turned his back on the anticipation of danger, and tried to battle aga.inst that secret misgiving for which there is no accounting, but which seems like the still small voice of holy remonstrance whispered in the ears, even of those who go on frowardly in the way of their own hearta. And Helen lay on the sofa in that state of nervous and excitabl e weakness which sometimes follows fever, and Captain Ingram was beside her; beside her in that chastened and subdued spirit whic h showed he too had sorrowed. My heart softened as I looked at him, and I almost felt angry with myself for having been so severe in my judgment concern ing him. There was no kind of triumph expressed at the idea of his prese nce being so necessary to Helen. In a quiet sort of grateful way, he con versed with Mr. Maynard, and the calm, stealing over Helen's face, made me long to hope that the sunshine of happiness would again cheer that home circle. o Weeks and weeks passed on, dear young friends without any of those striking occurrences that form a nal'1'ative. I never afterwards passed that old house without thinking of Helen as she then was walking in the

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HJ::LEN VA YNA.RD. 193 piazza with Captain Ingram, or sitting by his side at dinner. The little trial through which she had passed had softened her manner, and a shadowy depth of thought was still in her eyes, or the change might have been the result of that simple and earnest affection which cannot, I think, exist with any great exuberance of mirth; yet was she full of a grateful kind of happiness. W hat have you not done for me, papa," she would say; and then she would build hope's fairy castles in the air, and talk of her English home, where her dear old father was to end his days. How inexpressibly tender was the old man's RmiJe as he listened to her, then hurriedly taking up his newspaper, he would try to conceal his face from us, laughingly saying, that Helen was endeavouring to make him exchange politics for love in a cottage, at his ti mo of life. Dut an aged and widowed father's love for an only daughter, we approaoh it delicately. It is as if all the tenderness of his life were concentrated in this last affection. It is made up of softened me mories of the babes who died in infancy, of touch ing recollections of the one cherished f01 m that long ago he laid to rest amidst tho sods of the earth. All these outlets of affection are as it were thrown back, to swell the overflowing tide of. this father's T 2

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llELEN YAYNABD. love which marvellously forgetting self, endureth all things-hopeth all things, and even when intel lect is weakenod, cannot fail. Those still and radiant evenings when tho moon light, with its silvery pencil was clearly tracing every leaf of the delicate foliage of the tamarind tree, when the land breeze bore gently onwards its whisperings of the mountains to the far Rea, taking on its course gifts of fragrance from tho night flowers to the distant billows, all this comes back again, dear friends, as I speak to you of Helen. Why was it that at such times as these the old fccling of distrust came over me? I cannot tell. But true it was, a boding fear of evil-nay, moro than fear, it had formed itself into a mysterious knowledge, that as I looked at Helen, darkly whispered-prize that, smile whilst it is there, and treasure those glad tones while yet they fall on your car. Mr. Maynard too, was not quite at his ease. Ho had a gentle spirit, and I believe he had succeeded in persuading himself, that hy his present line of conduct, he was promoting his daughter's hap pmess. No chimo of merry bells was borne by the sea breeze up into the mouniJ!in land, yot there wa.

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UELEN MAYNARD, 195 wedding at my own little church. I stood at the altar as they knelt before me, Captain Ingram and Helen, ruJd never did I go through the service ,vith II morc sorrowful heart than on that occasion. Poor girl! I remember the extremo simplicity of her appearance in contrast with the studied dress and artificial manner of the bridesmaid, who was no other than our friend Ella Cornell. But, more than all this, in pajnfnl distinctuess, do I remember that old man's face the father: a slanting sunbeam from the high-roof window fell on his forehead, and played on his snowy hair, his eyes were filled with tears, his lips quivered, and his look said, l\8 plainly as words could say: "I have staked my precious child's happiness on this fearful throw, what if I lose?" Hc hall .rot committed his way unto the Lord, and he knew notlling of that pence which is the heritago of those whose steps are directed by the faithful God of J 8cob. Helen looked tranquil, and Captain Ingram's manner W8S composed. Before the conclusion of the service, however, he became very pale, and just as he turned to take Helen from the church, he fell senseless on tho steps of the altar As Captain Ingram soon recovered, his illness was attributed to oyer-excitement. How sweetly T 3

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196 BELEN 'MA1'NAHD. Helen soothed him. I wond e red he did not smile more. But at the iJejeune all grew cheerful again; and when Helen left us with her husband, in the even ing, I found myself trying to persuado Mr. May nard, that he might look hopefully forward on his daughter's untried future, and I had almost reasoned myself into the belief there was a want of Christian charity in the feelings I had entertained towards Captain Ingram. The marriage tour was quickly accomplished, and again my sister friend was amongst us as before, for she was to remain with us three months previous to her return to England with her husband. The dear old time had come back again, she was the playful daughter-the unaffected friend, and Cap tain Ingram had only changed from the agreeablo visiter into the dutiful son, and carnestly devoted husband. I love to think of those days. Mr. May nard's smile grew so bright, and Helen's laughter became so joyous, that I teo was inB.uenced by their spirit of happiness; and in my convcrsations with Helcn, I begged her to spread her joy before the Lord, and to ask, that by the mercies of her God, she might be constrained to surren d e r her heart to him. There wero times when Captain Ingram did not seem to participate in tho tranquillity of Helen's con-

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MAYN ARD. 197 tcntment; and yet it was not sadness that oppressed bim, but a sort of nervous restlessness that took possession of bim. His brilliancy of conversation almost entirely forsook bim, yet his tenderness to Helen rather increased than diminished. He pleaded ill health in excuse for his changed manner, and when the old distrustful feeling again crept over me, I resolutely combated with it, as if by so doing I was removing danger from Helen. But at length came a talk of parting, then pre parations for the voyage, and at last, the evening of their embarkation for England. How glorious was the heaven whilst the bay spread out before us like a sheet of molten gold. The land breeze lingered, and we remained late on board the vessel. How I felt for Mr. Maynard. For years his daughter had twined round his heart as the tendril round the oak He had so long cherished her, and now it was not death that separated them; but to another tree would Helen cling, yet llnrepiningly he gave her up, if by so doing he could increase her happiness. She had new hopes, new ties, and though very sor rowful at the separation from her father, the hopeful future was before her, looking in the distonce like enchanted: ground. Mr. Maynard, in the pressure of a silent embrace, bids her farewell! He turns at the hatchway one look more, with all the father

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198 lfELEN )A YN ARD. in his face -so full of tender, intelligcn t love! Prize that look, Helen, engrave it on your heartbind it on yonr memory, yon will need it in after years that father's parting gaze! The stream returns not to the fountain, and the past comes not back again. We all felt that Banff Hall conld never more be what it had been. Poor Mr. Maynard! it was some weeks before he conld attend to business, and then we tried to per s nad e him, that he might yet add to his danghter's dowry. This was a new thought. To work for hi m self was a heavy thing; but if h e conld still benefit Helen, why then life was not utterly bereft of purpose, so, invigorated by this id ea, he again visited the office. If he attendc'
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JfELEN M.A.YNARD. 199 when Mr. Maynmu received the intelligence that he was a grandfather. Another Helen had entered on the pilgrimage of life, the end of which is im mortality I remember well that evening, Mr Maynard, with his packet letter in his hand, strolled with me along the mountain side. The purple twilight was resting heavily amongst the mango trees. The bay below us lay calm in !I shadowy sleep, the fire-flies were coming forth in myriads from the wooded hill land around, and the just awakening l and breeze had startled the datura into fragrance, and gently unfolded the streamers of one or two outward-bound vessels. I have often since thought of it, that old man's gladness, and of the new idea that so suddenly took possession of his mind to scttle all his J amaiea affairs, and to spend the evening of his days with his precious child What were all tho fragrance and beauty of that radiant tropic-land to him. BIle was gone. There was the never-ceasing melody of the ocean, but her voice had passed away. IIis garden flowers flourish ed and luxuriantly too; but the fairest was missing, and what were these to bim. So the old man's mind was made up. He would go to England. It is true there were many things to be arranged before he conld leave J umaiea. A

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200 UELEN )fA YN ABD. suitable partner must be obtained, long standing debts scttled; his house must be lct; but no matter, the very project was cxhilirnting-life was no longer without purpose, and anticipation itself constituted prescnt enjoymcnt. I quictly went on my way, sometimes exchanging duty with a friend for a few months, but always returning with gladness to my simple people, and to my kind and generous hearted friend Mr. :Maynard We heard regularly from Helen, and the spirit of qniet home, happiness scemed almost visibly amongst us again as she told us of the peaceful fireside, of the endearing ways of her little Helen. Judge then of my surprise, when on taking up the paper carelessly one morning, at :Montego Bay, the first paragraph that mct my eye was, "Arrivals at Kingston, :Mrs. Ingram and daughter." What could be the menning of this? I took the paper to Mr. :Maynard, who was at his mountain home, so debilitated from intermittent fever that he was unable to walk across the room ; his whole frome appeared to receivo a shock when he heard of his child's sudden return to Jamaica. .All cannot be well, :Mr. Scott," he said, "and yet perhaps the poor girl has lost her husband, and in the first impulse of her sorrow returned to her father;" then his face brightencd a little, and he

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HELEN MAYNARD. 201 said, "Let her come, sweet bird, the dove to the ark of home." But no time wns to be lost, so I set oft' in the evening for Kingston. Yes, it must be Helen, that lady in deep mourning with the pale child at her side. She wns writing as I entered the room, and as the land breeze wns strong and busy amongst a cluster of date trees just outside the windows, she did not at first hear my steps; but when she looked. up there was our dear affectionate Helen, changed indeed -her cheeks were sunken, and her shadowy eyes had the kind of expression that told you they were accustomed. to tears. My friend, I said, my dear suffering sister." Hastily sending her little daughter from the room, she wept long and bitterly. "My poor father-his grey hairs will indeed go with sorrow to the grave." I cannot, at this distance of time recall our long and painful conversation, suffice it to say that poor Helen discovered that Captain Ingram had been for some years married. to a Scoteh lady; her wealth had been the temptation, for she was many years his senior. He had separated from her, and when he met with Helen, having no principle to guide him, no strong tower in which to shelter himself from the fiery darts of temptation, all that the world calls honorable principle past from him as a leaf on the stream of impetuous inclination, and for the sake of

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202 UJ:r.F.N MA YN A..RD. (l little selfish and troubled bappiness, he shrouded in sorrow and disgrace those, who but for him had en joyed tho happy sunshine of an affectionate home. Alas, alas! to what lengths will not the best of' us go when we are unmindful of the Rock that begat us, when we forget the God that formed us. Poor Helen! This sad knowledge of her own sitaation had come to h e r after years of devoted kindness from Captain Ingn1m; and even now it was his sin that pained her more than h e r own lInhappy condition. Her life was darkened. The stigma of shame was on her guileless child, and all this misery had yet to be unfolded to her old father. "But we will pray, Mr. Scott," she said; "we will ask for strength and guidance." .A.b, "Ye shall know that I have not done without cause, all that I have done in it, saith the Lord God." "Affliotion springeth not forth from the dust, neither doth trouble come out of the ground. That night of weeping was dark indeed. The day of her espousal was henceforth to be veiled in shame, and remembered amidst the sighs and tears of a broken heart. No one earthly friend was Denr her in the first hours of that overwhelming anguish, and he who had been hitherto the affectionate counsellor was for ever separated from her."

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UELEN VA YNARD. 203 Oh, tho desolating sorrow of that fearful time Then it was, that, driven as it were, to Rim who is acquainted with grief, she tremblingly cried, "Lord save, or I perish." I do not mean to say, that her heart was filled with instantaneous peace; but the cry went forward, and the Intercessor presented it to the father, and on the bleak wilderness of her desolate life, she saw on the far horizon some gleamings of the Jerusalem which is from above. In tllis hurri cane of anguish faith as a dawning light, shadowed forth Rim whose invitation to the weary is: "Come unto me, and I will give you r est And yet we rail at trial. We may look on it as needful for the reprobate or unbeliever, but as Christians we can strangely forget that whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth. When all is pretty smooth with us, how often do we go on cavilling at, and arguing about certa in doctrines, allowing a shadow of difference on some passing opinion of no moment to swell our hearts with indignation and resentment. Then the sudden anguish comes, and oh! how thrown aside as useless aro all these dissensions. If the sorrow be sanctified, how simply are we com pelled to look to God as deliverer in so doing the spirit of humility expands, and in our softened coun tenance and milder deportment, all around are con vinced, that he who loveth God loveth his brother also. U

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204 HELEN YAYNARD. But to return from our long digression to Helen. Pardon me, dear friends, I approach the saddest part of my uarrative. Before the afternoon of the next day we were at Ban ff Hall. Helen was locked in her father's fond embrace, then the grandchild was caressed, but put aside again for his own dear Helen. I was dreading the explanation, for I well knew the old man would never be satisfied till all tho truth was told. I left them alone, and sauntered in the piazza, fearful of being too far away I heard a scream, and on rushing to Mr. Maynard, found him sense less. We untied his cravat, and a negro doctor on the estate, took blood from his arm. Before night two medical men arrived from Montego Bay. To wards morning he opened his eyes, and after a little while knew us aga.in, yet a strange expression rested on his face; he did not speak much He asked Helen to arrange his pillows more comfort ably, and called for a glass of water. How uneasily she glanced from him to me. I knew her fear, and felt afraid to look at her. Some hours rest might, however, restore him, and somewhat tranqllillized by this idea, Helen took her watchful seat by his side. He slept long and soundly, and on waking, addressed his daughter as if no time had elapsed

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lU:LEN 1\U NARD. 205 since Mr. Everton had been a visitor at Be. nff Hall. An icy coldness fell on Helen's heart. She looked imploringly at me, as if I could aid her. I could ouly gently say, "He doth not willingly a1!lict nor grieve the children of men." 0, Mr. Maynard, if you had but paused, ere you gave your daughter to one who feared not God, this bitter fr"llit-this fearful trial had not been yours! Dear Hele n, it was piteous to see her loolring at her father; but the realization of her sorrow had not yet arrived. Never, never shall I forget the first day that Mr. Maynard was able to leave his room and to come amongst us. There was no kind of gladness, it was sorrow inexpressible. The tears were silently chas ing each other down poor Helen's face, as assisted by me, she supported her father to walk in the piazza. He caught her tears in his hand, and smilingly told her not to fr'et, that Captain Ingram was waiting to sing to her. He thought ouly in the past; the sorrow-darkened present he could not comprehend. And then week after week pas sed on, and there was no improvement, MJ.'. Maynard grew strong again; but the mind was clouded for eve r. Poor suffering H elen! And how did she stand? u 2

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206 maJilN ?tfAYNABD. When my heart is overwhelmed within me, lead me to the Rock that is higher than 1. This was now her prayer. We have almost forgotten the fragrance of the orange tree in the protracted sunshine; but the night has darkened, the heavy tropical rain has fallen, and the whole atmosphere is impregnated with the delightful perfume. The storm had indeed bowed down Helen, and laid waste her heart's pleasant land. The joy of her girlhood could never come again; but she knew whom she had believed, and talring hold of the promises of her God, she confidingly said, though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him. The world knew nothing of all this. They looked on it as a case of unmitigated misery, indeed Mrs. Cornell was one of the first to decide, that hannless as Helen was, the association at Banff Hall was no longer desirable for Ella; and yet, through the darkness of that heavy sorrow, angels bore to heaven the rejoicing tidings of one sinner that re pented. There was joy in the presence of God over that gentle and repentant being, who, cast do wn, but not destroyed, was lying at the feet of Rim whose voice louder than the tempest she heard saying, "It i s I, be not afraid."

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HELEN M4 YNA.RD. 207 Again months and months passed on. Acquain tances ceased to enquire after Mr. Maynard, and friends forgot to sympathize with Helen. Little Helen grew and flourished as flowers will do in rainy weather: she was very like her mother, only delicately fair It must have been the atmosphere of sorrow in which she lived, that gave her that earnest look, which sometimes rested so painfully on her young face. Ot, how patiently, how un weariedly did that su1fering momma lead her child to take every passing disquietude to her Saviour, and little Helen had already learnt bravely to meet disappointment, and I believe that young as she was, she knew something of that closet communion ,vith her Saviour, so invigorating and sustaining to the traveller in this changeful world Two more years glided by, and then our Helen's strength all at once gave way. The old man, her father, did not notice it. As she lay on the sofa with her sunken cheeks, he sat beside her Bmilitlg; and then I wonld remember the anxious tender lovo once expressed in his affectionate gaze. He had a curious habit of catching Helen's tears as the y fell-looking on them with delight as they glittered on his fingers, as a child wonld look on a s parkling toy. On e morning wh e n things wer e going on in this u 3

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208 HELEN 'MAYNARD. way, and Helen fading rapidly, the servant came hurriedly to me, and said: "Massa one buckra gentleman outside, him 'peak very softly, and say him wish to see massa 1" Ask him in," I replied, as I continued writing. It was well I was alone in my study, Captain Ingram was before me. His marked and handsome features were easy of recognition. His wife was dead, and he had come to Jtake all the reparation in Iris power to Helen. Oh, surely, surely, I thought, as I witnessed his agony, when I made known to him Helen's state of health, and Mr. Maynard's sad condition, whilst the path of the just grows brighter and brighter to the perfect day, the way of those who fear not God grows more barren as they journey on. I had to break the matter to Helen. I told her as gently as I could, I had heard a report that Captain Ingram was a widower. I know not if thero was any unusual excitement in my manner, or if she had heard the entrance of a visitor, but she instahtly fainted, and, in spite of all my remon stranccs, I could not keep Captain Ingram from her. He was kneeling at her side, bathing her temples, and begging her to speak to him. At length sho recovered, and, in an instant her thin arms were clasped round his neck.

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llAY.NAll.D. 209 I callnot relate to you, dear friends, all that fol lowed j but on tho great sea of forgetfulness thoro yet float one or two touching memories of the past. I remember how Helen spoko of her own lifo as passing away, how clearly she pointed out to Captain Ingram that her sorrows had all arisen from neglecting to seek heavenly direction, from looking to earthly love as hoI' guido instead of keeping her eye fL ... ed on Him who is the bright and morning star. I remember too, how Captaiu Ingrnm wept, as the little Helen looked wonderingly from him to her mamma, conscious that some great sorrow was around her. And I recollect, oh! how vividly, Mr. Maynard, as he sat in the arm-chair in the midst of all this, smiling perpetually, and asking Captain Ingram to sing some of his sea-songs, as if Helen were still in her untroubled girlhood-as if sin and sorrow had made no chango in that onco happy household. Sometimes he would speak of little Helen as a stranger, that his daughter had adopted, and then suddenly he wonld address her liS his child, telling her, that she wonld soon be tall enough to sit at his table, nnd cheer his lonely home. His mind was gone. Helen had been his all j and when the stream of his happiness was poisaned at the fountain, when vanity and vexation of spirit had t,vincd themselves round this strong affection,

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210 lIETEN :M.A. YN A RD reason tottered, and fell. He had not stayed hirn seU on Jehovah, and no great peace was there to sustain him in the evil tidings of the day of trouble. But time was passing on. There must be a wedding-yes, in the midst of sadness, such as this, the bridal ceremony must be performed. I have officiated at many marriages, and though some have taken place amidst weeping and sadness, few clergymen, through a lengthened course of mi nisterial labour can look back to a wedding so steeped in sorrowful recollection as that of which I now speak Forgive me, dear young friends. 111e past comes over me with power-a few moments, and I will tell you all. It is evening The eternal mountains are before us, and the room is filled with golden light. A cluster of orange trees li! full bloom, shadow the middle part of the piazza, and in their shelter Helen reclines in a large Spanish chair. She is too weak to sit up, and is wrupped in a shawl; but through its folds I can see the palpitating heart. Her lips are very white. Who stands over the back of that chair? He is unconscious of all that is going on. Yet look, what is he doing? It cannot be quite incomprehensible to him. He has plucked the snowy-white orange-Hewer, and placed it ever

PAGE 232

I:IELEN )U YN A.H.D. 211 Helen's forehead, the only sign, the mute and touching sign of the ceremony about to be per formed. As I read the service, Captain Ingram kneels at Helen's side in sobs and tears. Little Helen held my hand, and looked painfully per plexed. Poor Mr. Maynard's unfajling BIDile came over the high chairback chillingly as snow would have fallen on the rich wood-land spread out before us. Then how painfully came back the memory of that father's parting look, as he stood at the vessel's side Helen became insensible; they sprinkled water on her pale face; but I resolutely continued the serVlce. "Now you are truly mine," said Captain Ingram, as I concluded, "my own wife." Ah! that sweet name could not reach her ear; yet she bore the reproach of her saddened widow hood no longer. Her Maker was her husband! The Lord of Hosta is his name. The excitement had been too much for her shattered frame, and the spirit had passed away! The scene that followed is one of those thrilling remembrances that sometimes comes in on my quiet old age with an energy of recollection that is almost overpoweling. Captain Ingram's wild and bitter

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212 lELEN MAYNARD. self reproach; the little girl's helpless sorrow. On ber mother's knee she sat, and held in her young ombrace tM dead! Mr. Maynard missed life in his daughter'S face, he missed her tears-her smilcs, and in the t;llmult of all this grief ho walked calmly about the house, searching in every room, as if a book or a hat had been missing. Before the evening of the next day, we were again assembled going through our beautiful and solemn sen'ice for the dead. How profound was the silenco. On the green slope we stood, with the shadowy bills looking down on us. H Before the mountains were bronght forth, or ever the earth and the world were made, thou art God from everlasting and world without end." And then we laid Helen, at her own particular request, amongst the flowers, silent emblems of the sweet resurrection hope. Throughont the wholo service Mr. Maynard smiled. He did not in tho least nnderstand what we were doing. Once he said, H Leave her by the orange trees." No inap propriate suggestion, 88 her life had passed away whilst their snow-white bloom W88 yet on her forehead; as the memory of that bridal flower must henceforth, with our thoughts of Helen be associated with death. Poor Mr. Maynard! Some relatives in the counI

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HELEN MA.YNA.RD. 213 try took him under their care, and he left his cherished home,-his daughter's narrow resting place "roiling calmly, yet looking round for some thing gone, as if the craving of affection, though bewildered could not be totally quelled though lost in darkness, could not perhaps be utterly extin guished. Captain Ingram lived for some time after Helen's death. In after years my daughters were very fond of a sweet girl, to whom they looked up as to an elder sister, and always l oved to have her with them, for ehe had a peculiar way of convincing them there could be no real happiness without seeking first thc kingdom of God and his righteousness. I see, dear friends, you have already guessed this was Helen-the second Helen. Well, there was a talk of her marriage with a medical man in our neighbourhood. How easily she got out of all perplexities, how calmly she un ravelled all entanglements. I knew the secret. There was one saying to her, "I will guide thee with mjne eye." She returned to England, and some little time had elapsed since we had heard of her, when my wife, who was looking over my !!houlder as I held the newspaper, suddenly read aloud, "At St. Paul's

PAGE 235

214' BELEN MAYNAJtD. Churoh, Bristol, by the Rev. Herbert Eve rton, H. Everton, Esq., Barrister-at-Law, to Helen, only daughter of the late Captain Ingram, of His Majesty's navy." Oh, what crowding memories rushed on me of our happy household circle at Banff Hall, long, long ago. I thought of our first Helen, as she had onoe stood before me a gentle bride, and how earnestly I prayed that my young daughters then around me might learn in their affeotions, as well as in their sorrows, to look for help to the Lord God of Israel. Some of the old people at Montago Bay will tell you of Banff Hall, although it is now altered, and bears another name; and if you ask them they will shew you the rude gravestone on the hill side, no longer enoircled by a garden, where, by cutting away the matted underwood, you will still see the motto, at Helen's request chiselled there :" In nll thy waY' acknowledge Him, and He ,balJ direct thy ,teps." London : E. VAII,TT. Printer, 27 itt If:i. C&momileStret.'t.

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WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Demy 16mo.. price 28. 6d. STORIES FROM THE GOSPELS, A GIFI' FOR Cnn.DRE..",(. Third Thomand. Imperial 16mo., price (8 THE FA MIL Y S E P U L C H R E, A TALE OF J AMAleA. Illmtrated wit" Woodcut.. Be_d Thoma"d Foolscap Bvo., price 68. LAYS OF THE SEA, h-n OTHER POEMS. Stcond Edition. Royal 1Bmo., price 38. M A U 0 E E F FIN G HAM, A TALE OF JAMAICA. Foolscap Bvo., price 3s. 6d. STORIES FROM THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES, Demy 16mo., price 6d. G RAN 0 PAP A'S B I R THO A Y S TMrd Thowa>ld. Demy 1Bmo. price 18. THE COT TON T R E E, A TALE } 'OR CHu.nREN. Second TJunuQtld. Demy 16mo., price 6d. THE LIT T LET E A C HER, &ctJtld Edition.

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PAGE 238

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The Mountain pastor
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00001961/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Mountain pastor
Physical Description: xiii, 214, 1 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Lynch, Henry, 1812-1885 ( Author, Primary )
Varty, E
Darton & Co ( Publisher )
Lynch, Theodora Elizabeth, 1812-1885
Publisher: Darton & Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: E. Varty
Publication Date: 1852
 Subjects
Subjects / Keywords: Christianity -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Missionaries -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Juvenile fiction -- Jamaica   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1852   ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1852   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre: Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
General Note: Added engraved t.p.
General Note: Publisher's advertisement follows text: <1> p., "Works by the same author".
Funding: Brittle Books Program
Statement of Responsibility: by Mrs. Henry Lynch.
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002233396
oclc - 45805616
notis - ALH3804
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System ID: UF00001961:00001

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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front page 1
    Frontispiece
        Front page 2
    Half Title
        Front page 3
        Front page 4
    Title Page
        Front page 5
        Front page 6
    Copyright
        Front page 7
        Front page 8
    Preface
        Page i
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Introduction
        Page v
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        Page viii
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        Page xi
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    I
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    III
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    Advertising
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    Back Cover
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C^e LA-%7. W





































































DARPON &c C9 HOLIORIN 1 Iii

















4








THE


MOUNTAIN PASTOR.




BY MRS. HENRY LYNCH,

AUTHOR OP MADEE EFFINGHAM," "THE FAMILY SEPULCH9,"
&c. &c.







The strength of the hills is His also."--PsALM XCv.








LONDON;
PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY
DARTON & CO., HOLBORN HILL.
1852.
























TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE


DOWAGER COUNTESS OF SHAFTESBURY,


THIS LITTLE VOLUME


IS BY PERMISSION INSCRIBED,

AS A SMALL TOKEN


OF SINCERE RESPECT, BY


THE AUTHOR.
















PREFACE.


BY THE LORD BISHOP OF JAMAICA.




AT the request of an authoress, not altogether un-
known to the literary and religious portion of the
community, I am about to write a few lines as
prefatory to the little volume which is, at the ap-
proaching season fraught with so many holy asso-
ciations, submitted to the intelligence of a discerning
public.
Of the domestic occurrences in the magnificent
but stricken island which constitutes the principal
portion of my extensive and distant diocese, little
has been known or inquired into by the mother
country.
The shattered fortunes, severed ties, the ruined
households, and the broken hearts which have,
b







PREFACE.


under God's inscrutable counsels, been coincident
with one of the noblest and most consequential acts
that Christianity and philanthropy ever dictated,
have passed with little record or observation,
beyond the land which they have immediately
affected.
And yet to those who love to trace the hand of a
guiding and protecting God over the humblest and
most depressed of his creation-to those who delight
to read the vindication of his unsleeping mercy in
the history of families and individuals, on whom
fear and sudden desolation have come, with all the
fearful vicissitudes incidental to a tropical climate,
and the transient state of our West Indian popu-
lations; these records of the "Mountain Pastor"
can scarcely fail to convey a vivid and edifying
interest.
Of the sustaining power of that holy religion
which it is the main design of the following pages
to instil and illustrate, the amiable and bereaved
lady to whom I have adverted, is herself a striking
example.






PREFACE.


Amid sorrows of a complicated nature, and cala-
mities of more than ordinary aggravation, she has
been enabled by Divine assistance to realize the
consolations which nothing but the Gospel of Christ
can afford, and to ascertain by painful experience,
that a Father of the fatherless, a Judge of the
widow, is God in his holy habitation.
The results of this experience and the lesson
which it teaches, are bodied forth in all the appa-
rent truthfulness of deed and of reality, in the fol-
lowing pages.
That these may be sanctified to the author's own
temporal and eternal benefit, and to that of the
readers to whom they are commended, is the part-
ing prayer of one, who is now on the eve of embark-
ation on his return to the scenes which the authoress
has beautifully delineated, and to his share in the
labours which she has so feelingly described.

AuBron G. JAMAICA.

107, GLOSTER TERRACE, HYDE PARK.
IST NovaxBza, 1851.



















ntrnurturn IEttrr.


COME away, dear young friends, come away from
busy, exciting London -its crowded streets, and
stately squares; turn your backs on the Crystal
Palace, that stands in itself a wonder, holding in its
arms of glass the marvellous works of art; turn from
the multitude, which can with difficulty be numbered,
as they stand looking on the power, that God has
given unto man: bid farewell to all this-and for
what purpose ? to cross the trackless ocean, and to
search with me in a far distant island of the West
for the home of the Mountain Pastor.
Up and away then into the highlands of the tropics.
The road is steep, and can only be ascended on horse-
back or on foot. The mountains, that, at a distance,
B3






vi INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

seemed robed in purple, now wear the green dress of
the forest. Magnificent cedars are clustering together,
and throwing their rich shadows on the narrow
pathway. Courage, and look boldly down the almost
perpendicular precipice. The rains have swollen the
river, which is rushing impetuously on; and ill
brooking any control, the slightest opposition causes
it to foam and fret.
Oh, how beautiful is that Queen-like flower. It is
called the Mountain Pride; and no wonder. There
it stands, in regal loveliness, with its coronet of
purple feathers-and its gems are the emeralds of its
own green leaves. Thoughtlessly it flourishes on the
very borders of that dashing flood. Another moment,
it is gone, and, as the stream bears it onward to the
ocean, we have passing thoughts of the young and
the lovely, carried early to the fathomless sea, that
rolls beyond the boundaries of time.
That mighty river! It cleaves the mountains in
its strength, and sweeps away thousands of flowers
in its resistless course, as if conscious that their fra-
grance could add nothing to the splendour of its






INTRODUCTORY LETTER. Vii

stormy path; and the voice of those waters murmurs
of Fame; of the powerful intellect that, making its
way through difficulties, compels the world to admire,
but that unwisely throws from it, in the haughty
consciousness of superiority, the sweet breathing of
affection, the gentle ties of household love.
There are bright days in the very heart of England's
smoke-darkened capital; days, when the sun, awaking
in a benevolent mood, throws something of his glad-
ness on every dreary alley and unhealthy lane;
when even the dark shadows of the dingy corner
give by contrast a greater glory to the sunbeam;
when from the very river banks the mist retreats
discomfited;-days that do not follow each other in
bright succession, but that, few and far between, we
prize as the friendless prize sympathy, or paupers
gold.
But how can we describe the light and shadow of
Jamaica's mountain scenery, where motion is beauty,
where loveliness consists in change--where sun-
beams and shadows, though of natures so opposite,
are sporting together. The dull universal fog of






INTRODUCTORY LETTER.


England's November is there utterly unknown; but
thick white clouds come rolling down the mountain
side, and stand tremblingly over the gigantic trees,
refreshing but scarcely darkening the foliage. Now
a beam is piercing that dim recess, and shadow is on
the rock which, a little while ago, was radiant with
light. The sportive sun-rays seem determined to
convince us that they would lose their beauty if un-
associated with darkness, and we know that the
loveliness of the Christian character is never more
conspicuous than in the cloudy day of sorrow. This
was a remark of the Mountain Pastor's.
Once more, then, up and away. Look at that tiny
stream, stealing almost noiselessly, with silvery foot-
steps, from the wooded height. Now we lose sight
of it, but we know its way by the fresh verdure in
its track-by the flowers that cluster on its very
course. Its bed is of ferns: soft and beautiful, they
try to lure the streamlet to rest amongst them; and
we are reminded of gentle spirits of whom the world
speaks not, whose brows the laurel chaplet has never
circled, but whose glad bright looks of love give


ioe
VMl






INTRODUCTORY LETTER.


home its sweetest influence; whose names ambition
has never heard, but the drooping head is raised as
they pass, and the mourner's eye glistens through its
tears at the whispered accents of consolation.
Now, dear friends, onward again, and higher,
higher into the thrilling silence of those lofty moun-
tains-on again

To see a beauty in the stirring leaf,
And find calm thoughts beneath the whispering trees."

But what trees? the delicate lilac and drooping
laburnum ? Not so; this wild forest land owns no
such children. There are the feathery bamboo and
the majestic yacca; the magnificent cedar, and the
gigantic cotton tree. How intense is the silence-
how profound the solitude! Eternity seems stamped
on all-magnificence--God! "The strength of the
hills is His!" Look down the tremendous steep
into that ravine-the river-course below. In His
hands are the deep places of the earth. Yes; who
but the Mighty One could support by an invisible
hand those stupendous trees as they bend from their


ix






INTRODUCTORY LETTER.


dizzy height over the steep chasm. Here and
there are patches of rock-land, almost void of
foliage, and yet on these very spots delicately-tinted
flowers unfold their leaves, and are to that sterile
ground as bright smiles and kindly words to the
desolate.
Onwards again, and higher. Turn and look down
on the great swelling sea that seems to rise as it
spreads into the far horizon, covered with light as
with a garment, and the cloudless heaven stretched
out as a curtain above, declaring the glory of God.
Look back on the mountains. No snows ever
crown their summits. As well may the heart freeze
into indifference under the warm bright looks of
love, as frost find life beneath that tropic sun. "Yet
those fields of gleaming white, what are they? The
air is filled with a rich perfume. Look again.
We have arrived at some coffee plantations, and the
pure white blossoms clustering together make a field
of shining pearls. How delicately beautiful they
stand; no stain of dust is on them, for the mountain
rain has purified all within its influence. The dark






INTRODUCTORY LETTER.


green foliage presents a striking contrast to the
white flower; whilst underneath, the wild straw-
berries grow in myriads, lured into life and strength-
ened by the shelter of those glossy shrubs: and so
the wounded and shrinking spirit will rally and
revive under the sweet canopy of home!
But the Mountain Pastor's dwelling ?-
On, on, through the deep wood shades. Day
declines; we know it by the crimson tints that dye
the dark Mahoe trees, as their boughs wave grace-
fully in the cooler air; we know it by the golden
western light that the intertwining boughs cannot
shut out, and by the fragrance of the night-flower,
which the twilight in passing has awakened; we know
it by the rich blazonry on the silken palm tree, and
by the intense purple of the mountain shadows.
We are yet in time. In the very heart of this
world of solitude, with a halo of solemnity around
it, and an atmosphere of peace within, stands the
Rectory.
Come gently on. Twilight gives up her short


xi







INTRODUCTORY LETTER.


reign, and night rapidly advances in all her jewellery
of stars.
We are not too late. There is a light in the
pleasant library, and already we feel the spell of
home.
Now we must introduce you to the good old man.
The silvery locks fall on his temples, but as spring
flowers rise up and bloom round the tree that has
looked on many winters, so grandchildren smile, a
lovely band, round the Mountain Pastor, and call
him blessed.
That servant of the Lord has had a long pil-
grimage; but ask him, and he will tell you that he
has not been desolate; ask him, and he will tell you
of a Comforter who has been with him-even the
Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive.
The aged Pastor is now too feeble to engage in
any ministerial duties. Nobly in the might of his
Master he has borne the burden and heat of the day;
and now that his strength is failing, still wishing to
be useful, he has evening meetings in his piazza, and


xii






INTRODUCTORY LETTER.


by relating some of the occurrences of his past life,
he endeavours to convince the young around him
that those only are blessed who serve the Lord; that
godliness with contentment is great gain, having the
promise of the life that now is, as well as of that
which is to come.
We are not too late. We will take our seat by
that low window, and watch the land breeze sporting
with the thousands of wild roses on its path, and
stealing the fragrance from the starry jasmin. We
will listen to the Mountain Pastor as he relates his
recollections of the past, and connected with all that
is solemn and holy shall be our memories of the
Mountain Land of Jamaica












/


xiii


















THE MOUNTAIN PASTOR.



CHAPTER I.

lArembraonrs of C4hlnnas.


I AM a native of Jamaica, and was not sent to
England for school education till I was twelve years
of age; but I had a very worthy gentleman as tutor,
and I can never forget his patient efforts to make his
instructions easy, nor his forbearance with my whims
and petulances, for I must own that I was, in some
measure, a spoiled child.
Our general residence was in the lowlands, at a
long flat house near the sea. I have at this moment
clearly before me the interior of that mansion. There
is our sitting-room-I mean the room appropriated
to my tutor and myself. One window looks towards
c2






REMEMBRANCES OF


the mountains, over which the silvery mist is steal-
ing as evening approaches, making them look more
distant but more beautiful than ever. The bats
begin their gambols in the twilight, and the mos-
quitoes their low dirge. Now the sky is gorgeously
red, and I look away to watch my pigeons, which are
soaring farther than ever, over the waste of cashaw
trees, yet regularly returning, as if spell-bound
by the sight of home; and when I look at the
western heaven again, the red has vanished, all is
dim and sombre. I learned in after life that many
bright things fade thus quickly. Then the stars
peep out, at first timidly, but as if gathering courage
from the sight of each other, they grow bold and
brilliant; and I have learnt since, blessed be God,
that there is light for the darkest hour, if we but
seek it, that comfort is promised in the heaviest
affliction.
But I was telling you of the little room. There
was a low couch covered with blue damask, and at
its side a small ottoman in the same dress. A
mahogany table, with deep drawers, and some stains
of ink on its surface, stood almost in the centre of
the room. Immediately above the couch was a
small bookcase: this contained all Mr. Maple's
books. There were two broad shelves between the
windows that faced the west, and there lay, not







CHILDHOOD.


always as orderly as they should be, my school
books, slates, &c.
How distinctly at this moment I see it all before
me. The door towards the balcony is always open.
I am so accustomed to the measured, melancholy
chime of the waves, that my whispered lessons keep
exact time to their voice of waters. Now Mr. Maple
is lying on the sofa, with his dark blue morocco
covered Pocket Bible in his hands. Sometimes he
sighs deeply, and then again his whole face is illu-
minated with a smile, which, even then I know, is
not kindled by any earthly joy. He is in communion
with the Father of Spirits, and I walk gently to the
window, through which a bold orange tree is peep-
ing-the land breeze has awakened all its fragrance.
I play with the snowy blossoms till I am lost in
thought. I wonder if my Aunt Davis is a Christian,
and if she is, why she is in every respect so different
from my tutor, for I have discovered something in
him that speaks without language, and I can as
easily tell that he is a servant of God, as, blindfolded,
I should know that an orange tree is before me from
its fragrance.
But I have other memories of that old house.
There is the hall, or large sitting-room, with its
high-backed uncomfortable sofa, nothing like ours.
The windows with their dark framework of maho-
c3


3







REMEMBRANCES OF


gany, and the heavy doors looking as if they required
the united strength of the family to open them.
There was the unceiled roof; and the walls, which
went no farther than they could go in an upright
position, seemed to be giving us all a lesson to stop
in the plans we were pursuing, if we found that by
continuing in any of them we should be compelled to
act crookedly. The sideboard which has long been
stationed at the end of this general sitting-room,
with its ugly black faces, the large nose-rings in
which constitute the handles of the drawers.
It is early morning. Rutland, the boy groom,
brings our horses to the door; my pony Dapper is
impatient for its little master, and frolics and paws
till we set off. Mr. Maple always begins the day
with a cheering word of kindness, and these are as
dew to the youthful spirit. Off we go, cantering
pleasantly down to the sea-shore. I had very
seriously offended my Aunt Davis the evening
before; she had actually left the room in indigna-
tion, muttering something about the inconsistency of
those who professed to be Christians not keeping
children under proper control, and I thought she
looked at Mr. Maple when she said this, and I thought
he colored, but I am sure he must have had good
reasons for not interfering in this matter. My
aunt's religion had ever seemed to me something not






CHILDHOOD.


real; it was the imitation dress, looking very like
that which it copies to a careless eye, but quite
unable to stand the wear and tear of temptation, or
the waters of trial, should they roll over it. And
this said dress never appeared to greater disadvan-
tage than when, as on the present occasion, it came
in contact with the mantle of humility which Mr.
Maple ever wore. Aunt Davis has an assured man-
ner, and the very position of her head, though she
may be silent, seems to tell you that whatever may
be the failings of her associates, she cannot be very
far in the wrong.
Young as I am, I can discover this, and I take a
delight in teazing her.
Had Mr. Maple, on the morning of which I speak,
angrily commanded me to apologize to my aunt, I
think I should stubbornly have opposed his direc-
tions. But to resist Mr. Maple was impossible.
He had a way of winding himself round your affec-
tions, and such a convincing power in argument,
which, however, was always maintained with the
greatest gentleness, that you were borne on to his
way of thinking by the current of his remonstrances,
forcibly, yet almost imperceptibly. I have never
since, on life's journey, met with any one exactly
like him, and I do not think this was merely a
childish estimate of his character.






REMEMBRANCES OF


Long before the ride is over, I am anxious to be
reconciled to my aunt. Immediately on my return
home I fly to her bedroom, and seek her forgiveness;
she speaks kindly, says something about her willing-
ness to endure, and then bids me call Bunchy to
get her chocolate, with its accompaniment of salt
fish, for aunt Davis always breakfasts in her room.
I think I see her now, with her thick cap, round
which a handkerchief is tied after the manner of the
negroes, her full petticoat, and her short white dress-
ing-gown, for you must recollect I am speaking of
many years ago. She was much older than my
mother, and, according to her own account, every-
thing had gone wrong with her from the commence-
ment of her pilgrimage. She had married, but had
been long separated from her husband, and though
my dear mother always carefully avoided any allusion
to my uncle, yet I often heard aunt Davis giving
admonitions to my pretty cousin Annie to remain in
single happiness.
Sometimes Annie would look archly at her, at
other times she would blush so painfully that I have.
playfully covered her face with her own little black
apron. What a sunbeam that dear girl was to us
all. I am sure that aunt Davis found happiness in
the effort to be unhappy, or rather, I should say, it
was a great source of consolation to her if she suc-






CHILDHOOD.


ceeded in impressing any one with the idea that she
endured a sort of domestic martyrdom, and was un-
fortunately out of the station it would so have suited
her to fill. She was thoroughly uncomfortable when
all went on smoothly. She would begin the day by
complaining to my mother that the household
arrangements did not suit her. "If I managed
these things, Mary," she would say, all would be
right." And when my poor mother, in creole list-
lessness, would answer, Well, Dinah, you are
quite at liberty to do so," my aunt would assume
the air of no ordinary sufferer, and reply, No,
sister; it is not my house; I am not mistress-only
a visitor!" as if it were my mother's fault that such
were the case, and then she would swing her foot
vehemently, in that peculiar way which only West
Indians can understand, and wipe her eyes, (in which
I Pell remember there were no tears at all) with a
white cambric pocket handkerchief.
My poor aunt was only truly sad when she could
find no listeners. I have known her tell a half-
civilized African, who scarcely understood a word of
English, a whole tale of grievances. I think the
sound of her own voice must at such times have
been soothing to her, for even when she was walking
alone in the piazza, I have caught the dissatisfied







REMEMBRANCES OF


tone, and heard the murmur, "Not mistress, only
visitor," &c.
I cannot say my mother was idle, for she was
continually plying her needle. How could she
always find employment? There was an oval
basket full of stockings ever at her side; these, half
reclining on the uncomfortable couch, she would go
on darn, darn, darn, for hours. Once, when I asked
her what she thought of whilst thus employed?
" Literally nothing, sometimes," she answered; and
then I was lost in contemplation, trying to discover
if the mind could ever be unemployed.
This would have been a monotonous life for me,
had it not been for Mr. Maple and dear, laughter-
loving Annie, who continually spent a week or a
fortnight with us.
My Father I could not remember. He died when
I was an infant, and it was a heavenly hand that
led Mr. Maple to be my tutor. With him it was
line upon line, and precept upon precept, here a
little and there a little. The morning ride, the
evening drive, all were made lessons by him to lead
my young heart to its Creator. I knew, child as I
was, that there were times when Mr. Maple loved
his Redeemer with joy unspeakable. I well knew
that, though many deridingly called him "saint,"


V,







CHILDHOOD.


mistaking, or rather trying to make others believe
that they mistook his calm and quiet manner for
hypocrisy, that all was real with him, and, though
apparently so thoughtless, I had discovered that
peace such as the world giveth not was his portion.
Children think much more than we imagine, and
very often when I sat with my Latin Grammar in
my hand, I was clearly tracing to myself the diffe-
rence between the reality of religion and its pro-
fession, and though I whispered the grammatical
examples to myself, in exact measure with the
chiming waves, the living examples of my theory
were Mr. Maple and aunt Davis.
I remember well a sharp attack of fever that I
had. My dear, dear, mother! All her languor and
listlessness forsook her, and she was immediately
transformed into the unwearying, gentle, yet active
nurse. The dingy room opens on the back piazza;
the large four-posted bedstead, in which I seem
small indeed; the high-backed dimity-covered chair,
where my mother sits, with her anxious sorrowful
face. My cheeks are burning, my lips are parched,
I hear the hurried beating of my heart, the doctor
looks grave; I cannot lie in any position comfortably,
every part of my body is in pain. Then dreams
come-half-waking dreams: there is danger, and
my great desire is to have Mr. Maple near me. Do






REMEMBRANCES OF


I dream it, or does he tell me, thtre is One greater
than he, able and willing to save to the uttermost all
who come unto God through him. I try to look
away from my fears to Jesus, and calmer visions steal
over me, and again I fancy my dear tutor gently
says, "I will strengthen thee, yea, I will help thee,
yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my
righteousness."
I think I must have slept for more than a day,
for when I opened my eyes the grey light of morning
was stealing into the room. My mother had fallen
asleep at my side; she was still holding the large
Spanish fan with which she had been endeavouring
to keep the mosquitoes from me, and, with the
deepening light, I saw that traces of tears were on
her pale cheeks.
I must have been a child of a contemplative turn
of mind, for even then I was musing on the depths
of a mother's love. Why had aunt Davis gone
calmly to bed ? why was my old nurse sleeping
comfortably in her corner, whilst my mother had
evidently not taken off her dress for many days?
And even then my childish heart made answer,
" There is in all this cold and hollow world no fount
of love so deep as that which springs within a
mother's heart."
The light seemed very slow in coming that morn-







CHILDHOOD.


ing; it could not be weary, for my young thoughts
had given it a night of rest. I could just see, as I
lay, the mountain tops in the distance, and there the
lazy dawn seemed to linger, dressing their summits
in all sorts of grotesque shadows. At length a sud-
den beam of golden light flares on the old-fashioned
mirror, till it seems on flame; then, as if in a merry
mood, the laughing sunbeam settles for a moment on
the earrings of my sleeping nurse, the next instant
it was coiling round the half-empty medicine bottles,
transforming a dingy looking mixture into a bright
rose-coloured draught. How long I should have
watched its gambols I know not, but just at that mo-
ment my mother (awakened by the negroes who were
passing under our windows on their way to work,
merrily singing wild snatches ofAfrican song) hastened
to give me some nourishment. I think I must have
slept again, for the next thing I remember is a
strong sensation of hunger, and the chicken and
jelly of which by turns I ravenously partook. Mr.
Maple prays with me, and in that solemn thanks-
giving I feel that my mother is earnestly joining. I
had never seen her so moved before, and during that
day, whilst I was lying with my eyes shut, I was
much struck by the humble way in which she
applied to Mr. Maple for instruction concerning
some passages from my old brown Bible, which she
D


11






REMEMBRANCES OF


had been attentively reading. I could not, at that
time, have put my thoughts in words, but I am sure
I was reflecting in my childish way, how anxiety
and trial were used as messengers to bring us to
God.
My memory presents very faithfully to me aunt
Davis, as she walks in and out of my room, taking
up the watch and putting it down again, opening
the Venetians and closing them rapidly when she
found how painfully the sudden light affected me;
beginning many sentences and leaving all unfinished;
giving orders to the nurse in a clear loud whisper,
you might have heard at the other end of the house,
and which orders my nurse knew, from long expe-
rience, it would be useless to tell her had been
before given by my mother. Poor aunt Davis!
Then she bustles out of the room, with a startling
Hush! to the girl who is very quietly and lazily
rubbing the floor, convinced, I am quite certain,
that her excessive vigilance, and the quiet she has
kept in the establishment, although she is not mis-
tress, but only a visitor, has preserved my life. I
know, by all these signs, that I must be progressing
in health, for I will do my aunt the justice to say,
that whilst I was considered in any danger, real
concern for me kept her in the background. I think,
however, that she comes forward now with increased







CHILDHOOD.


energy, refreshed and strengthened by the relaxation
she has had. Mary," she says, as she makes the
sixth forenoon entry into my devoted bedchamber,
" If I were you, I would do what Dr. Parry advised,
and write on the slate all the medicines that were to
be given." "Charlie is only taking bark at pre-
sent," replies my mother, with a great effort at
composure.
I always fancied my aunt breathed louder than
any one else, and as she places her hand heavily on
my forehead I feign sleep, and would have persevered
in this deception had I not been forced to open my
eyes by the sudden gripe she gives my wrist as she
proceeds to feel my pulse.
"Mamma," I said, restlessly and pettishly, for I
was beginning to be weary of the confinement of
that dark chamber, "Mamma, may I have my
paint-box if I am better to-morrow?"
I cannot forget the expression of my aunt's face
when I made this request. It was angry, and
solemn, and disdainful. You are still on the
very threshold of eternity," she said, and I fancied
she anxiously looked for some expression of alarm on
my countenance, and that being disappointed, she
went on more gently to add, and it grieves me to
find that your mind still runs on trifles such as these.
There is inflammation about you at this moment.
v2


13






REMEMBRANCES OF


Indeed, Mary," she continued, turning to my mother,
" he must not have bark." And all this conversation
was carried on with a rapidity of which none but
those who knew aunt Davis could form any idea.
She spoke of my attack of fever as her sorrow, her
affliction; my mother's uneasiness, my own discomfort,
never once came into the mental calculation in which
self was always prominent. These trials are for my
good," she would say. We cannot expect to go
on smoothly in this world;" and she certainly was
a striking exemplification of her own assertion, for
she trampled down the flowers on her path, and then
murmured that her way was cheerless. I have
never been able to find out why she was always in
such distress. I remember on this occasion, when
my mother persisted in giving me the bark, which
she affirmed to be really necessary, the conversation
ended by my aunt assuring me, that she was not the
mistress of the house, only a visitor, and when she
left the room her cough had the peculiar tone which
I knew meant Never mind; I can bear it!"
Mamma," I said, as my aunt's murmurings grew
faint in the distant piazza, I do wish aunt Davis
were not a Christian." My mother expressed her
surprise at the uncharitable feeling I had expressed.
" It suits her so badly to be religious," I continued.
"We all have faults, Charlie," said my mother


14






CHILDHOOD.


soothingly, and I suppose your aunt finds it diffi-
cult all at once to become amiable, but I must con-
fess I know little of these matters," and she sighed
deeply.
My dear mother! She might indeed have doubted
the reality of that piety which so entirely left out of
its code the charity that is not easily provoked.
She might have said, By their fruits ye shall know
them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of
thistles ?"
Mr. Maple had quietly entered during this conver-
sation. Taking his seat at the foot of my bed, he
looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, and then
said, When there is no earnest, secret cry to the
Mighty One for aid in the hour of temptation, when
there is no effort in the strength of the great High
Priest to resist the besetting sin, we have every
reason to fear that we have not entered on the con-
flict of the Christian life; but, my dear Charlie," he
said, looking tenderly at me, "you will find plenty
of work to do within your own heart without
making it your employment to discover the sins of
those around you. The same spirit that tells us to put
away strife, enjoins us to be pitiful and to hope all
things." And there was, as I have before observed,
something so convincing in all this holy man said,
that by the time my aunt again made her appearance,
-D 3


15






REMEMBRANCES OF


I am sure I greeted her with one of my sweetest
smiles.
Then I have other recollections of this time of
childhood.
The hot months we generally spent at one of our
mountain estates, named Mount Orchard. I was
always very happy there. It might have been that
the cooler air in a measure refreshed me: this cer-
tainly was the case, but Annie, joyous Annie, was
the living spirit of our happiness. Oh, what a con-
trast there was at our little dinner-table-Aunt
Davis sitting on one side, and Annie opposite to
her. I have often wondered that no visible rainbow
appeared, for it certainly was sunlight shining on
cloud, and a rainy cloud, too, for the least contradic-
tion would sometimes cause Aunt Davis, in a sort of
childish petulance, to shed tears.
Annie always accompanied us in our morning
rides, and her gladness of heart seemed to Mr.
Maple as a reviving cordial. It was not levity, but
a grateful, thankful feeling that was within her
spirit, as a perennial spring running over and making
all glad within its invigorating influence. It is quite
impossible to give you any idea of the brilliant
expression that lighted up her eye when Mr. Maple
spoke of the love of God in Christ. It seemed to
tell you that she had tasted the Lord was gracious.


16






CHILDHOOD.


The very expression of her face said, as plainly as
words could say, It is a good thing to give thanks
unto the Lord." In very early life she had been
satisfied with His mercy, and therefore she rejoiced
and was glad all her days.
That wild mountain scenery is still vividly before
me. The intensity of solitude pervades all around.
One or two stars still linger on the sky, but the
shadows flee away before the gradually advancing
morning. Now there is high rock land on each side
of our path, and before us are the everlasting hills.
How solemn sounds Mr. Maple's voice as he says,-
" The mountains may depart, and the hills be
removed, but my kindness shall not depart from
thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be
removed, saith the Lord, that hath mercy on thee."
Then again we are in more open country, and we
look on the distant sea, far, far below us. I seem
at this moment to hear the whispering wood sounds
around-the mysterious voice of the forest.
The red morning is steeping the east in crimson,
but though solemnized and subdued in spirit by the
magnificent scenery, my thoughts are neither with
wave nor sky.
Of what are you thinking, Charlie?" kindly
asks Mr. Maple.
I start as if roused from a dream; and no wonder


17






REMEMBRANCES OF


my tutor makes this inquiry, for I feel that tears are
in my eyes. I could not, indeed, fathom my own
feelings, but of this I am certain, that as we paused
there, looking down on the far-spreading mountain
land below us, and the distant ocean, I had a strong
boding that sorrow was silently spreading its wings
over our home happiness. This was not super-
stition; it was merely that feeling of insecurity that
sometimes forces its way into the heart when we are
resting on any earthly prop of comfort.
Just at this moment suddenly above the golden-
crested mountains, rises the glorious sun-

Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light.

It is true, there were clouds all around, but clouds
so refulgent in the glorious beaming, that they but
added to the grandeur and beauty of the scene. The
effect was beyond all description. The deep glades
were rejoicing in the sunbeams freely scattered over
them, whilst the luxuriant foliage immediately
around us, and palms and ferns in myriads wore
dew-drops as pearl gems in which to welcome the
morning. The arid plains in the distant lowlands
seemed to bear some part in the universal gladness,
and to smile in the rejoicing light, whilst the far


18






CHILDHOOD.


mountains had woven of the new-born rays a vest-
ment of rose and purple.
"Thus," said Mr. Maple to Annie, "does the Sun
of Righteousness arise with healing on his wings,
enlightening the dark heart of man, and making
lovely even the desert waste of life. The sun-
gemmed clouds are emblems of the sorrowful heart
that reflects the image of its Master, the light afflic-
tion is almost forgotten in the radiance of the love
that encircles him; the dew-drop becomes the glis-
tening gem, the night of weeping lends new beauties
to the glories of the morning. I am already preach-
ing a sermon," he smilingly said. Then the sudden
gun was distinctly heard, as if its tone were neces-
sary to proclaim that the sun had risen!
We had already lingered longer than usual on our
morning excursion, and pleasantly we cantered home.
At this moment I seem to hear the musical tone of
my cousin's laughter. Oh! why did sorrow ever
darken those happy hours ? But the shadows have
passed away. Dearest Annie! with gladness and
rejoicing she has entered into the King's palace. I
am, however, running on too fast with my tale.
During lesson hours what childish stratagems I
employed to detain Annie in the portico which we
used as school-room. On her way from her bed-


19







REMEMBRANCES OF


room to the hall she was obliged to pass through
this our little study. Sometimes I would entreat
her to see if my sum were all right. Mr. Maple
would at first make an effort to be particularly
engaged, but he would suddenly discover that we
were both at fault in our arithmetical calculations,
and then some favourite author would be discussed.
Oh, what a happy little listener I was!
I am sure that children often receive more in-
struction in this way than from a regular lesson.
Annie's parents were living in Kingston, and it
was to escape from the gaiety and dissipation there
that she so often visited her friends in the country.
She was sought after and much admired, for indeed
she was exceedingly lovely, but with those who
were of the world she felt no congeniality. No
marvel, then, that a strong attachment should
spring up between my beloved tutor and the thank-
ful confiding Annie.
I do not know which of the two claimed the
largest share of my childish admiration-Annie,
with her soft intelligent eyes, and heavenly smile-
for at times it certainly was illuminated by the
Christian's hope, or Mr. Maple, with his pale, kind,
grave face and earnest look. I believe I respected
my tutor more than any other being on earth, and I


20






CHILDHOOD.


am convinced that had I not discovered how Annie
prized and valued him, she would not have been
half so dear to me.
About this time, too, aunt Davis was an unwearied
intruder into our little room. Oh, how patiently
Mr. Maple bore her incursions! Sometimes she
would actually take his place on the couch, and
remonstrate with him concerning a certain stoop
which she declared I had, but which, I believe, was
visible to no one else. Standing against the wall
she proposed as a remedy for this defect, and because
Mr. Maple, busy over my delectus, does not imme-
diately attend to her suggestion, she stalks out of the
room, coughing portentously, and saying, If I were
mistress of the house--I am only a visitor," was
breathed forth to the empty piazza.
There was a deep sort of ravine immediately below
the mountain on which our house was situated,
where many large mango trees clustered, laden with
their golden fruit; Avocado pear trees were thickly
interspersed amongst them, and star apples hung
in clusters from their own dark boughs.
We were all fond of mangoes. This is quite a
creole taste, for the English have, in general, a par-
ticular aversion to this fruit. If I missed Annie in
the evening, I was sure to find her-naughty girl!-
committing depredations amongst the mango trees.


21







REMEMBRANCES OF


One afternoon, I particularly remember, I was
bounding down the green hill towards her, when I
observed her in quiet yet earnest conversation with
Mr. Maple. Yes, it is clearly present to me still,
though many years have passed away since that
time, and the fretful and the happy, the earnest and
the sorrowful-all, all have laid them down, and the
clods of the valley cover them; their love and their
hatred, their joy and their sorrow, is perished with
them. I only am left of all that mountain party,
and I believe in my breast alone remains any remem-
brance of anything that they did under the sun.
But, as I was saying, I remember everything con-
cerning that evening. The sky wore that look of
softness peculiar to it after a heavy morning rain.
The sunset's gold was paler than usual, and there
was the deepest purple but little crimson on the
western horizon. Have you ever noticed a child
called from weeping to join in sudden mirth ? Some-
thing that is not sadness, yet very nearly allied to it,
rests on that child's face, and we see the tear on the
cheek, whilst laughter echoes from the lips. On
this evening nature wore just such a face. The
rain-drops were heavy on the leaves that sparkled in
the merry sunlight; the jasmins were absolutely
flinging away their fragrance, as if they did not
know what to do with it-they gave it to the breeze,


22






CHILDHOOD.


and the breeze bore it on to the distant woodland,
all down to the river-side. The wild senna trees,
too, how their lovely blossoms tossed the sparkling
rain-drops from them, like the scornful beauty throw-
ing disdainfully from her human affection. The fog
was beginning to rise. I believe this early life
amidst such scenery tinged my thoughts even then
with romance, for I remember thinking how deli-
cately beautiful was the silvery mist, as it fantasti-
cally dressed the mountains in its own airy lightness.
As I sit quietly on the bank watching all this, those
words, What is your life ? it is even as a vapour !"
keep chiming on my thoughts.
There is something so serious in my tutor's man-
ner, and so unusually grave in Annie's way of listen-
ing to what he says, that I do not like to interrupt
them. There stands Annie, in her white dress and
purple velvet shawl, that she was accustomed to
throw over her shoulders in the evening, with the
very look that she always wore when I spoke of my
tutor as being superior to any one else. Her happy
face was as a window, letting in the rays of hope and
summer light on the more thoughtfully moulded
mind of my tutor.
He had been lately ordained, and, I knew, was
ere long, to hold a living in the northern part of the
island.


23







REMEMBRANCES OF


As I am thus musingly sitting on my quiet bank,
I hear voices in the little portico which is just above
us:
There, Mary," said my aunt Davis to my mother,
"look at Annie and Mr. Maple-there is certainly
too much profession about that man."
Oh, how my little heart beat with indignation.
"My motto is," continued my aunt, 'let all
things be done decently and in order.' I ask you, is
that correct ?"
Dinah," replied my mother, in her slow gentle
way, "we must not blame Mr. Maple if he have
become attached to our sweet Annie."
My aunt then said a great deal in a querulous
tone, which I did not hear, but how plainly I did
hear the stately tread and the ominous cough; and
Not mistress of the house, only visitor," died on
my ear as the land-breeze came down from the moun-
tains, just the same then as it does now, whispering,
whispering on, as if with love and sorrow, change
and death, it had some mysterious connexion, and
passing on before us we knew not whither.
That evening Annie had a long conversation in
the back piazza with my mother, and it was decided
that my cousin was to return to Kingston, early in
the next week. We all missed her sadly. Even
Aunt Davis had the manner of one looking about for


24






CHILDHOOD.


something she could not find, and Mr. Maple was un-
able to conceal his anxiety for the arrival of the post.
Well, several weeks passed, during which time my
mother was making arrangements for my return to
England. Mr. Maple became very sad, and aunt
Davis more fidgety than ever.
I remember I well knew, though indeed I can-
not tell how, that my dear mother was advancing
in the Christian life, and I once overheard her say to
Mr. Maple, I was not sorrowful, but there was a
yearning in my heart for something I could not find,
my soul was unsatisfied; now I think, in some
degree, I do turn to my Saviour, and he never sends
me empty away-what love to one so undeserving!"
Indeed, my mother seemed altogether changed.
There was continually a placid smile on her counte-
nance; the letting out, as it were, of the peace
within; and it remained steadfast, too, that tranquil
look, even under a shower of sharp words from my
aunt, as if kept there by an invisible hand.
Mr. Maple is graver than ever. His bible, if
possible, is more continually his study.
We return to the Lowlands, and many more quiet
weeks roll on. The sea chimes regularly as ever.
My lessons are continued, and then my mother goes
to town, and returns in triumph with Annie. I
E2


25







REMEMBRANCES OF


think the sunlight of her glance was dimmed, or
rather, I should say, softened, for her countenance
had lost none of its beautiful expression, and I felt,
from the cheerful tone in which she welcomed me,
that hope was strong within her.
Mr. Maple and Annie sat together all that even-
ing, and whilst my mother looked as if she had some
new source of enjoyment, aunt Davis became so un-
comfortable because no one was noticing her, that
after coughing ineffectually for some time, to draw
from us exclamations of pity, she called Bunchy,"
and retired to her bedroom. Yet there she could
not remain. She returned twice to tell us there
would surely be an earthquake, and I overheard
Annie whisper to Mr. Maple, "I wonder she does
not say, 'If I were mistress of the house, no such
convulsion of nature should disturb us.' Mr.
Maple looked at her for a moment, as if inclined to
say something in reproof, but that smile conquered,
and he only looked gravely, and I fancied somewhat
pitifully at her.
It was at this time that I observed a peculiar
expression about my tutor's face. A superstitious
person would have said it told he was not long for
this world. It was a look which plainly showed
that his spirit at times rose on the wings of a realising


26






CHILDHOOD.


faith, far above earth and its anxieties, aye, and
its affections, too, to be where Christ sitteth at the
right hand of God.
I surmised that all was right again, and wishing
to show that I had some knowledge of the state of
things, I plucked some of our school-room orange-
blossoms, and pushed them amongst Annie's long
fair curls.
She kissed me affectionately, and asked me the
next morning if I would promise to be at her wed-
ding? Oh how delighted I was! I skipped about
the old room in my glee, and told Annie, with an air
of great sagacity, that it would be no common hap-
piness always to be with Mr. Maple.
But enough of all this. Aunt Davis continued to
find a thousand cases in which if she were mistress
of the house, and not only a visitor, things would
go on much better-truly, if she had ruled, the
bridal day would never have arrived.
How carefully I dressed on that eventful morning.
I tied my dark blue neckerchief, I have no doubt,
with consummate skill, and my jacket was as glossy
as my shining locks.
Well, mamma and aunt Davis went in the large
carriage, whilst I sat, full of importance, by dear
Annie's side in the phaeton. Mr. Maple was to
meet us at the church.
E3


27







REMEMBRANCES OF


The sun rose that morning on the cloudless sky as
if care had nothing to do with life; as if sorrow
never even looked on human affection.
How well I recollect Annie's pale face as she en-
tered the church! I thought she had forgotten her
smile, but no-she looked timidly at Mr. Maple, and
there it was, although subdued and chastened by
trembling and fear, those handmaids on every
approach to earthly happiness.
Annie's parents were both present at the wedding.
I cannot tell why, but I was impressed with the
idea that they had reluctantly consented to this
marriage.
The church is still before me: a low, barn-like
looking place. At the altar rails, which are newly
built of cedar, they are kneeling side by side, Mr.
Maple and Annie.
The feeling of Annie's good fortune in being united
to Mr. Maple was uppermost in my mind. Dear
girl, much as I loved her, the idea of his happiness in
possessing such a treasure never once occurred to me.
Now Mr. Maple's face wears the expression of
which I have before spoken, and for a moment or
two, even at this time, he seems to be far away
from the world, from its love, its sorrow, and all
belonging to it. Then I hear the low "Amen,"
and the service is over.


28






CHILDHOOD.


This time, my seat is by aunt Davis, for Mr.
Maple and Annie drive on together in the phaeton.
Aunt Davis troubles me sadly by pinning up her
gown, that it might not be injured by the dust, for
it was the very dress she had worn at my mother's
wedding, and, as I saucily observed, she might one
day wear at mine. I am commissioned to hold
sundry small pins whilst she is thus occupied, and
then I am to carry her brown holland bag, and
carefully, too, for it contains a bottle of eau de Cologne
and a small phial of red lavender; this latter was a
cordial which my aunt found necessary on all exciting
occasions. She will not allow me quietly to follow
the train of those mournful thoughts which neces-
sarily belong to a wedding, inasmuch as it is almost
always connected with some painful separation.
"Take care, Charlie, the bottles are striking
together," she exclaims. Of what are you think-
ing, Charlie ?-the umbrella is in my eye!" for
although there had been no rain for some time, we
were obliged to use umbrellas as shields against the
dress-destroying dust.
Right glad was I when we were once more in the
pleasant shade of the large hall.
It was a cheerful party, that second breakfast. I
tried hard to forget that Mr. Maple was never more
to be my tutor; that our pleasant mornings in the


29







REMEMBRANCES OF


little library were henceforth to be but a remem-
brance. Even aunt Davis, in the sober cheerfulness
of that bridal party, seemed to forget that she was
but a visitor. Only once I heard her say, If I
were mistress, these things should not be," but I
believe, from long habit, that the sentence escaped
her involuntarily-there was no angry emphasis in
the words on this happy day.
The negroes were vociferous on this occasion.
What they had to do with the matter I cannot tell,
and I do not think they exactly knew themselves,
but wine and silver threepences-a coin current in
Jamaica-were freely given to them, and they felt
bound in gratitude to express their thanks as noisily
as possible.
The luncheon is over; Annie retires to exchange
her bridal for a travelling dress. She pauses at the
door, and with bright sparkling happiness gleaming
on her sweet young face,
Charlie," she says, as she stoops and kisses my
forehead, the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant
places-my cup runneth over."
In the listlessness of heart which was already
beginning to follow the unusual excitement I had
undergone, I stroll in the piazza, afraid even to look
at the door of our little study. Who gallops down
the long avenue? I recognize him by his beautiful


30






CHILDHOOD.


black horse. It is Arthur Lochane. He is too late
for the wedding, but he may yet see Annie, whom
he has not met for years. He may yet wish her
happiness as the bride of another who was once the
starlight of his boyhood. So unselfish is his affection,
that with genuine sincerity he grasps Mr. Maple's
hand, and congratulates him on the prize he has
won.
A keen observer might have perceived something
like agitation in Arthur's manner, but it soon passes
away, and he is composed as ever as he stands by
Mr. Maple, who is admiring the glossy coat of the
spirited black horse. How elegant is the curve of
its arched neck, as, impatient of restraint, it paws
the ground.
Arthur is very fond of his horse, and he draws
Mr. Maple's attention to the good expression of its
eye.
Whilst they are thus engaged, my pet fawn
makes its escape, and bounding immediately before
the noble animal, causes it to rear and turn round, so
that its fore legs come in sudden and violent contact
with Mr. Maple's chest.
He sank on the steps, whilst the blood streamed
from his mouth.
Annie, who saw the accident from the window,


31







REMEMBRANCES OF


hastens towards him, and the deep crimson stain
covers her loosened bridal robe.
There are some sudden woes that do the work of
years in a morning!
How was that fair girl altered! As a tempest
of rain and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty
waters overwhelming," had that sorrow come upon
her.
Mr. Maple had fainted, and it was with much
difficulty that we conveyed him to the sofa in the
dear study where we had spent many happy hours.
What a meeting for Arthur! Annie was so
absorbed in the intensity of anguish, that she did not
seem to know he was present. She neither spoke,
nor wept, nor sighed. All the strength of her grief
was concentrated in the earnest, unmoved gaze
that she kept fixed on Mr. Maple's pallid face.
He slowly opens his eyes, and they rest on
Annie. Oh, the unutterable tenderness of his
loving look! He was too much exhausted to speak,
but I know had he been able to express himself at
that moment, he would have said to the trembling
girl,-
Be strong, fear not; I, the Lord, am with thee
-I, the God of Israel, will not forsake thee."
The negroes expressed their sympathy by groans


32






CHILDHOOD.


and lamentations of the most terrible and uncouth
nature. Annie was almost maddened by the turmoil,
and we could, neither by threats nor persuasions,
induce them to be quiet.
It was two hours before the doctor arrived. Mr.
Maple was removed into his bedroom, and the
sorrowful bride becomes the tender and loving
nurse.
I shall never, through life, forget the sudden
change from that day of feasting to the house of
mourning. We could scarcely realize it. There
had been no anticipated sorrow-no twilight to
prepare us for the unexpected darkness. The mid-
night of anguish had come in, as it were, on the
day, and put out the rejoicing sun.
And then it was peculiarly trying to see Annie
wrapped in the dark garb of sadness.
There are some methodical characters, so sober
even in happiness, that when affliction settles on
them, its inroads are, at all events, for some little time,
scarcely perceptible. But Annie! our sunbeam-our
morning: Annie-the echo of whose silvery laughter
ran through our long halls; whose smile left glad-
ness with the sorrowful, and whose very tone en-
couraged the despondent-to see her moving noise-
lessly about, with silence on her lips and sorrow on
her brow, this was grief indeed.


33







REMEMBRANCES OF


I was sometimes admitted into my loved tutor's
room.
Dear Mr. Maple; there was the expression of which
I have before spoken, stronger and plainer than ever;
and, child as I was, I knew, that though fondly
affectionate towards Annie, his soul was longing to
be with him, whom having not seen, he loved.
Arthur soon left us. He could have witnessed
Annie's happiness, but he could not endure to see
her sorrow.
I have still an indistinct recollection of dreary
days-that little forsaken library haunts me yet. I
had no lessons to learn. There I sat, trying to make
the loud ticking of the old clock keep time with the
music of the waves.
At length there was a whispering in the house,
and then Jamba, the cook, and Prince, the butler,
literally began to howl. Dr. Parry came out, and
for a time commanded silence; but my bedroom was
prepared for Annie, and then I knew that all was
over-my beloved tutor was never more to meet me
in our pleasant study. Annie's life in its morning
was darkened, for he had gone home. This was the
way in which she first touchingly mentioned her
sorrow to me.
I remember a low grave under a spreading sand-
box-tree, with my tutor's name on the rough stone.


34






CHILDHOOD.


Aunt Davis grew much more amiable after this
sad event. I do not recollect ever again hearing her
say that she was only a visitor, though once or twice
she told me, with real humility, that she felt she
was a stranger and a pilgrim upon earth.
She learnt at length to look beyond things seen
for happiness, and how wonderful was the change,
such indeed as might be deemed almost incredible by
those who know nothing of the satisfying and peace-
bestowing nature of true religion. The tone of
murmur was for ever hushed, nay was lost in the
sweet song of praise, so true it is that when, by the
Spirit of Adoption we are enabled to say, "Father;"
when we can view the smallest circumstances as
being controlled and ordered by Him who careth for
us, trivial discomforts cease any longer so to irritate
us; a ray from the better land has fallen on our
way, and seeing in the far distance the gates of the
Celestial City, we look upwards and forget the
thorns of those petty annoyances in anticipation of
the glory which shall be revealed.
My mother lived many years after Mr. Maple's
death, growing in grace and in the knowledge of her
Lord and Saviour; but Annie, in the flush of her
youth, was called away, and I could not mourn for
her, but whenever I hear the whispering land
breeze, or the measured roll of the waves, I think of
F


35







36 REMEMBRANCES OF CHILDHOOD.

that happy room and my beloved tutor, and I try to
remember the laughter-loving Annie as she was
when untouched by sorrow. At all events, this
hope I have, that again our home circle will be
made complete in the land where Death and Woe
will have nothing more to do with earthly affection.
















CHAPTER II.


1 tjarnrrrr--Viunq.


I NEwvm can forget Mr. Walker. He was an eccen-
tric being, and yet many such characters were, I
believe, found from time to time, some years ago,
amongst the semi-civilized inhabitants of Jamaica's
mountain land.
My friend Mr. Campbell had just arrived from
England, and he sent me a pressing invitation to run
down to his estate for two or three days. I arrived
in the afternoon, and I found he was expecting some
gentlemen to dine with him at seven o'clock.
We were talking over old times when, after a
little unusual bustle in the piazza, a negro boy ran
in, with a short driving whip in his hand, 'and, with
a laugh in which I am sure all his very white teeth
joined, said, Massa, Buckra come," and before we
had time to make any inquiries as to the name by
F2







A CHARACTER.


which this buckra was distinguished from buckras
generally, a fine looking old gentleman walked into
the room, with loaded pistols in his hand, pointed
towards us. Mr. Campbell persuaded him to place
these on the table, and then introduced him to me as
Mr. Walker.
I cannot forgot his wild look, his neglected hair,
his blue coat, with its large flat gilt buttons, his
white waistcoat, and untidily folded cravat. My
first feeling was that of astonishment that such an
uncouth being should not only be permitted as a
guest, but actually welcomed as a friend. How
my heart afterwards condemned me for this thought.
I found he was continually haunted by the idea
that his life was sought by the negroes around him.
It was with great difficulty that Mr. Campbell had
obtained from him a promise to remain that evening,
for he seldom left home.
His manners were a strange mixture of eccentricity,
bordering on actual rudeness, and the polish of a
well-bred gentleman. He attached himself to me
throughout the evening, from a likeness which he
insisted that I bore to his son Tom.
There was something very melancholy in his con-
versation. It was the wreck of a great mind, and
by the really beautiful thoughts which momentarily
appeared on the surface, you were reminded how


38






A CHARACTER.


much was sunk in the wide sea of opportunities lost
and time mispent.
And then the restless unquiet of his eye was most
painful. If a servant came into the room, Mr.
Walker looked towards his pistols, as if he longed
again to have them in his possession; indeed, the
whole tone of his conversation was to convince us
that even the most harmless of our attendants were
lying in wait to kill him. I thought it must neces-
sarily be monomania, but Mr. Campbell assured me
that his friend's mind was unimpaired: it was the
very secluded life which for more than fifty years he
had led that had given rise to these suspicions.
Throughout dinner I observed that he raised his
plate to his nose every time it was replenished, to
detect if poison had been put therein; and when he
retired to his bedroom, oh, what preparations of
defence were made against a midnight attack. A
sword was put across the foot of his bed, and a pair
of loaded pistols were carefully placed under his
pillow.
And then to see his travelling apparatus, as it
stood at the door the next morning. What a pic-
ture it would have made! There was a little old
gig, with very high wheels, to which two half-
starved horses were attached by ropes, tandem
fashion. The effect of all this was heightened by
F3


39







A CHARACTER.


the air with which Mr. Walker gave orders to his
outriders, a couple of ragged boys on mules, to
"keep ahead of him."
They would shoot me in the back," he knowingly
observed to me, if allowed to lag behind."
With the ease and assurance of an excellent
whip," he took his seat on the old hassock which
served as cushion, and was turned upside down, that
the most presentable part might meet the public
eye, and in the style of a gentleman whose equip.
ments were first-rate, he waved us his adieux.
Oh, what a bustle there was, when he in reality
set off. The smallest outrider was left far behind,
and I saw Mr. Walker, when he turned round, in-
stinctively put his hand upon his pistol. The port-
manteau had almost slipped from the mule, and the
mule seemed determined to slip from its rider, for it
stood still and kicked, as if protesting vehemently
against associating too intimately with such a
master; then, as if it had suddenly changed its
mind, flew off with a speed which well nigh upset
"Smudge," for such was the name of the little
stable-boy, raised on this occasion to the rank of
outrider.
Mr. Campbell proposed a visit to Mr. Walker the
following evening, and appeared much to enjoy my
surprise at his partiality for this uncouth being.


40






A CHARACTER.


During the drive, as might have been expected,
our conversation was principally of Mr. Walker,
when I asked if he had any ideas of religion ?
"All approach to serious conversation," said Mr.
Campbell, "he connects by some mysterious associa-
tion of memory with his daughter Minny, who died
of fever some two or three years ago.
His eldest child, now Mrs. Bartley, was as self-
willed and violent as her father. Hers was a run-
away match, and she had much difficulty to effect
her escape. This, however, she achieved by setting
the house on fire as she made her exit, and whilst
her father was entirely occupied in quelling the
flames, and in endeavouring to discover which of his
negroes had been the perpetrator of this act, she had
leisure, unmolested and unobserved, to accomplish
her escape.
Bella, the youngest daughter, is a wild creature;
you will, I have no doubt, see her this evening.
She can use the currycomb to a horse, or saddle it,
and seems quite in her element when in the atmos-
phere of the stable.
Minny sprang up between them, a delicate and
gentle being, fair as a lily, and painfully nervous
from the secluded life she led. Hers was indeed a
most interesting case. She found an old pocket
bible in a negro hut; she turned over its pages, and


41







A CHRACTEa.


became so interested in their contents, that she pur-
chased the treasure, and returned home to read
throughout the night that sacred volume.
She told me that at this time she had never
even heard of the Gospel plan of salvation. She
knew that Jesus was the Son of God, but she was
altogether ignorant that through Him only she could
approach the Father.
"' God giveth His Holy Spirit to them that ask
him,' she said; 'I read the Blessed Saviour's words
-" Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name,
I will give it you," and my instantaneous prayer
was, Give me thy Holy Spirit for the sake of Jesus
Christ." Oh, how, in its beautiful freedom and sim-
plicity, the plan of salvation opened upon me; whilst
the sufferings of the Son of God caused me to see the
exceeding sinfulness of sin; the fulness of the
redemption that was in Christ Jesus enabled me at
length to say, From Him cometh my salvation."'
She had never met even with a professor of
religion till she became acquainted with me. She had
no technical terms, no peculiar mode of phraseology.
She had never been able to attend a place of public
worship, for there was not one for miles round, but
at the crimson fall of day the bamboos at the river
side had been witnesses of her earnest prayer, and,
amidst that disorderly and complaining household,


42






A CHARACTER.


she moved with gladness in her heart and peace in
her bosom.
Minny was far advanced in the Christian life,
but knew it not. Love to Him who had done so
much for her was the pervading feeling of her soul.
Her childlike confidence, her simple trust in her
Redeemer, so unmarred by doubt of any kind, spoke
in a reproving voice to many a far-famed Christian
of the present day.
At one time, her father lost, through the failure
of a house in England, many thousand pounds, and
was, consequently, obliged to make a home of the
miserable abode in which you will find them this
evening.
I was with them at the time of their removal.
The house they had left was large and commodious,
though in a most desolate part of the country. Mr.
Walker was morose and severe; his wife was in
tears; Bella was murmuring and dispirited, whilst
Minny smilingly and quietly glided in and out
amongst them. Now she was tastefully arranging
some ornamental shells on the low table; then she
was affectionately whispering to her papa, 'We shall
soon make all comfortable,' and pushing her small
white hands playfully through his silvery hair.
"' Minny,' I softly said, 'how is it that you
alone are happy ?'


43







A CHARACTER.


'Oh, you forget, Mr. Campbell,' she said; and
then, lowering her voice to the softest tone, how
touchingly she added, "Peace I leave with you;
my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth,
give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled,
neither let it be afraid."'
The Bible alone had been her study. She had
never read any book on theology-commentaries she
had never heard of; the Word of God was the light
to her feet, and the lamp to her path, and the
entrance of those words had given understanding to
the simple. She had not received the spirit of
bondage, the language of adoption was hers, and she
cried Abba, Father!'
I am persuaded that nothing could have separated
her from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus
our Lord.
There she went on, from day to day, delighting
in the law of God, yet warring against the law of
her mind. And all this hidden life, this internal
conflict, she carried on alone-no, not alone, for the
Father loved her; the Lord looked down from
heaven on this precious one, and very often, in the
midst of that divided family, led her by the still
waters of heavenly consolation.
What a changed creature she became; changed
altogether in manner, for self had been in a great


44






A CIHAACTER.


measure cast down, and goodwill towards man
flourished in its place. Changed, too, she was, even
in appearance, for the meekness of heavenly wisdom
shone in her smile, and you could see by her whole
deportment that the Refiner had been with her.
Her sisters laughed at her; her mother forbad
her to mention in her presence the subject of religion;
only to her eccentric father did she dare occasionally
to speak of her inward source of happiness.
"Oh, how her heart of tendrils clung to the pro-
mises! She never said, 'I have been reading this
new work,' or 'I have been told this or that,' but,
in the beautiful simplicity of Scripture language, her
answer was ever ready.
Do you not sometimes, Minny,' I one day said,
wishing to try her, 'do you not sometimes do things
that are right, from your own amiable disposition ?'
'Jesus Christ says,' she answered, "If a man
abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is
withered." Once I, too, was fretful, continually
quarrelling with my sisters; but this could not con-
tinue. Scarcely had I breathed the angry word,
when a voice seemed to whisper, This is my com-
mandment- that ye love one another, as I have
loved you." Yet am I daily offending a forbearing
Father,' she said, with a sorrowful look; 'and did
He not receive where man would reject; did he not


45






A CHARACTER.


pity when the world would scorn, and wait to be
gracious where a fellow sinner would repel, I know
not what would become of me. How truly he says
by his prophet, As the heavens are higher than the
earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and
my thoughts than your thoughts."'
I do not remember that she had ever before
spoken thus unreservedly to me, but she was carried
on by her heart's fervour. Then suddenly she began
to apologize for the boldness with which she had
been giving me her opinion.
"There was a striking peculiarity in this dear
child's faith. We allow that Jesus is our friend,
that he careth for us, that he is ever touched with
the feeling of our infirmities, and we should be
startled if any one questioned our sincerity as regarded
these convictions; but I am certain that we do not,
as she did, take to our God the little daily dis-
quietudes of home, the ruffling annoyance, the
chafing care. We do not realize His presence, as
she did, about our path in the evening walk, about
our bed when the shades of night have closed around
us. Thus was she enabled, amidst many difficulties,
to go on her way rejoicing. She opened her mouth
wide and it was filled. She opened her heart and it
was satisfied with the fulness of God.
She was almost uneducated, though, I should


46






A CHARACTER.


say, naturally clever, and in proportion as she became
imbued with the spirit of her Master did her very
language become improved. Seeking to follow His
example, she was pitiful and courteous, and in the
sincerity of true Christian unselfishness, became pos-
sessed of the germ of real politeness.
As the small rain upon the tender herb had that
Word been to Minny.
In this case, man was not even used as an in-
strument. The Lord alone did lead her. He found
her in a waste howling wilderness; he instructed
her, he kept her as the apple of his eye.
"Then she was suddenly attacked by fever. She
stood on the borders of the heavenly inheritance, and
looked back with longing, lingering love on her
white-haired father.
"I called, without even knowing of her illness,
and she begged to see me.
I might have been dreaming,' these were the
words she addressed to me the very first moment I
made my appearance, 'but this morning some one
stood by me all in white, and told me that my dear
papa would turn and repent. Do not, dear Mr.
Campbell, lose sight of him; remember that the
angels of God rejoice over one sinner that repenteth.'
I was so deeply affected, I could only bow my
G


47






A CHARACTER.


head in token of acquiescence. It was a touching
sight to see her lying on that little comfortless bed,
with the rude apparatus of arms and harness hanging
from the walls, her mother passively sitting by her,
and her father, for once forgetting that his life was
in danger, bending anxiously over her-yet he could
not stay her, she was going home! She had held
fast that she had, and no man could take her crown.
Already the tree of life was in sight, which is in
the midst of the paradise of God.
"' Have you no fear now, my love ?' I whis-
pered.
No,' she solemnly answered; 'our Great High
Priest who has passed into the heavens is waiting
there to receive me.'
Love had triumphed, and had cast out fear.
All this language was in such strong contrast to the
tone of conversation prevalent in that family, that
the effect was impressive.
I felt a longing that some of my Christian friends
in England could come and look on that dying bed.
I am persuaded they would have returned home
with a firm resolve to make the simple word of God
more constantly their study, they would have felt
their faith strengthened, and their pride of heart
subdued. They would have learnt at the bedside of


48







A CHARACTER.


that dear girl that we must be led by the Spirit of
God, even as a little child is led, if we would be the
sons of God.
I was unable to remain long with Minny. I
stooped down and kissed her cold forehead. She
had been silent and motionless so long that we
thought the coma, which is the last stage of yellow
fever, must have been stealing over her. I, however,
gently whispered, 'The peace of God, which passeth
all understanding, keep your heart and mind through
Christ Jesus.'
She opened her eyes, and distinctly said, 'He
hath clothed me with the garments of salvation.'
These were, I believe, her last words, she died
in the evening.
I have since seen little of Mr. Walker, in con-
sequence of my recent visit to England, but you will
now understand why I was so anxious to introduce
him to you. You may remind him of his daughter's
dying wish, but deal with him gently, he is a wild
being, almost ferocious, if approached unguardedly."
Oh, how I blamed myself for having entertained
such hard thoughts of one to whom my Master might
be waiting to be gracious; how I prayed for wisdom
in the difficult task before me.
"There," said my friend, "is their humble
dwelling."
G 2


49






A CHARACTER.


That negro hut," I exclaimed, impossible!"
It was a low, barn-like house. The roof was in a
dilapidated condition, the shingles being completely
decayed, and the palmetto thatch only used in those
places where repair was absolutely necessary. The
Venetianed windows were broken in many parts,
and might perhaps once have been green, although
this is merely a supposition, as no trace of their
original colour remained.
The approach of our phaeton was the signal for
some half-dozen starved dogs to make their appear-
ance; they seemed too low-spirited to bark. All
the cocks, too, began to crow vehemently, and the
wildest of wild black heads forced itself through a
broken part of the before-mentioned Venetian blinds.
Then there was a tittering and whispering, Him
bring rangee buckra wid him, and him 'tand tall like
aloe."* Then there was suppressed laughter again.
No one came to our assistance, but Mr. Campbell
was not in the least disconcerted, he was initiated in
these mysterious proceedings. Leaving his carriage,
he bade me follow him, and we unceremoniously
entered the dwelling. An uncomfortable perception
of smoke and spirit assailed me, and I found myself
at once in the presence of Mr. Walker.
The negroes, it must be remembered, seldom articulate
the 8 or th. .Buckra, white man.


50







A CHARACTER.


He was sitting, without coat or waistcoat, in a low
wooden chair, which he was pushing back in creole
style, whilst his shoeless feet had attained no slight
degree of eminence on the half-plastered wall. His
slippers kept their humble station on the ground
below. His hair was neglected, and his face un-
shorn. His collar was unbuttoned, and altogether
he was in such complete dishabille that I felt uneasy
at having thus intruded on him. I therefore kept
in the background, and began to murmur an apology.
His inimitable coolness of manner, however, in a
moment set me at rest.
Rising with real unembarrassed elegance to receive
us, although he did not even remember to put on
his slippers,-" Most happy to see you," he said;
"pray be seated."
I thought for a moment he was at a loss, as there
were no chairs in the room, with the exception of
the wooden one before mentioned, but this must have
been my fancy, for the next instant he had inverted
two empty tamarind kegs, and thus supplied the
deficiency of these necessary articles of household
furniture.
Then he pressed on us refreshment, and would
take no refusal.
There was a dried Yorkshire ham suspended by a
hook from a horizontal beam that traversed the upper
G3


51






A CHARACTER.


part of the room. Mr. Walker took his dirk from
his side, and cut off several slices of this dried meat.
Then he called the good-natured looking girl who
had likened me to an aloe, to make preparations for
the cooking of our repast.
In a yard immediately beneath one of the windows,
and where Mr. Walker could overlook all culinary
proceedings, and detect any attempt at poison,
a square was made with four bricks, in which a fire
of wood was kindled, and in some apparatus of his
own manufacture the broiling of the ham commenced.
Then there was a sudden running and chasing in the
waste ground immediately in front of us, and I soon
perceived that one of the feathered tribe who had so
musically welcomed us was suffering martyrdom on
our account. He was being stoned to death, and I
believe it was our friend Smudge of the preceding
evening who dealt the fatal blow, if I may judge
from the triumph actually gleaming from his teeth.
A very thin old woman boiled the cocoas in a pan
given to her from our sitting room, by Mr. Walker.
You remind me," I said, laughing, of Oliver
Cromwell. Do you not recollect that for many years
he was harassed by the fear that his life was sought ?
It is a penalty, I suppose, that great men must
sometimes pay."
He was surprised I made such a subject a matter


52







A CHARACTER.


of merriment, he said. Only last night, as he
returned, a strange negro rushed from the bushes,
and his own servants had seemed much discomposed.
What could be the meaning of all this ?
Well, we could not convince him that his own
fears formed dangers out of the most harmless
circumstances, so we talked of other things, and
then Mrs. Walker and Bella made their appearance.
Mrs. Walker was very tall and very thin, and I well
remember that her old-fashioned dress was too tight
and too short.
We had for some time heard a sort of half-sup-
pressed bustle in the next room, as of a process of
laborious dressing, mingled with whispers such as
these--" I must wear my kid shoes-that ribbon is
too faded," &c. This accounted for the flushed face
of Bella, who literally seemed exhausted.
I must confess she was the most weather-beaten
young lady I ever remember to have seen; the very
crimson of her cheeks, having to struggle through an
outer casement of amber colour, became a sort of
deep neutral tint, relieved only by large freckles of a
much darker hue. When she sat down, she put her
feet forward, pressing them together as if she regretted
they were not one, and then I noticed the kid shoes
whispered about in the adjoining apartment. Her
white gloves were soiled and stained, her bracelets


53






A CHARACTER.


tawdry, and her light muslin dress seemed scarcely
suited to that apartment. Her very eyes were sun-
burnt: the part that should have been white being
strangely mixed with red gave them a glaring
appearance.
The feeling uppermost in my mind was the most
profound pity for this unfortunate girl, shut out
from the means of civilization open to even the
poorest in England. I asked her if she liked the
country? "Yes, sir," she said, and then she held
down her head, and broke out into a hissing whis-
pering laugh.
Have you been long in this neighbourhood ?"
Yes;" and another mysterious laugh followed,
which it was most painful to hear.
Mrs. Walker had evidently moved, at some time
of her life, in refined society, and I was quite at a
loss to account how it happened that she had im-
parted none of this civilization to her daughter.
I afterwards learnt from the thin cook a piece of
information, proffered willingly, however, that old
massa always lock up old missis when him go out,
and neber let him 'tay wid him own pickney."
Poor lady! I believe that long oppression had so
benumbed all her finer feelings, that she had for
some time ceased to feel any interest in the improve-
ment of her children.


54







A CHARACTER.


I heard from Mr. Campbell, that Mr. Walker
would sometimes keep his wife for weeks a prisoner
in her bedroom. No marvel, then, that she sunk
into a state of unmurmuring acquiescence, and lost
all energy of purpose, all vigour of mind.
I tried to persuade myself that she sometimes
gazed compassionately on her daughter, but no,
when I looked again, there was something vacant in
the expression that had no doubt been once animated
by maternal affection. My spirits became dejected
to such a degree, that Mr. Campbell began to rally
me on my silence.
Then I made some observation to Bella, and again
the hissing laugh threw me back into a sort of
despondency.
Yet there was a degree of conceit visible about
Bella, that was to me surprising. My friend Mr.
Campbell made some allusion to the frequent visits
of a medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, and
she hung down her head, whilst a smile of delight
did for a moment cause a meteor gleam of intelligence
to flit across her face, and she fidgeted with her
gloves, and the neutral tint deepened on her cheeks.
Poor girl! why should I thus uncharitably accuse
her of conceit ?
Was she, then, to consider herself as shut out
from all human affection because debarred the privi-


55






A CHARACTER.


leges of society and education ? Might she not have
sterling qualities I could not on a first acquaintance
perceive? There is often a weary toil in darkness
before the gem is found that sparkles in the coronal,
and when I considered what the wisest amongst us
must be in the sight of God, when I remembered
how he pitied our weaknesses, and looked on us and
loved us, disfigured as we were by ignorance, and
rendered loathsome by sin, my heart reproached me,
and for the rest of the evening I am sure my tone
was softer to Bella, and my manner kinder whenever
I addressed her.
The stars were out before we commenced our
homeward ride, and I felt discouraged that I had
not introduced one serious word during the conversa-
tion of that evening.
Never mind," said Mr. Campbell, encouragingly;
you can go alone next time, and lure Mr. Walker
to speak of Minny. This will soften his heart, and
no doubt incline him to receive favourably any
observation you may make."
My dreams that night were of that strange abode.
I thought I was in the old hall, half sitting-room,
half saddle-room, but Minny was there, looking
reproachfully at me, as an ambassador of Christ who
had forgotten his message of peace.
As I have before observed, Mr. Walker had taken


56







A CHARACTER.


what is generally called "a great fancy" to me,
and I therefore was not surprised to find him at Mr.
Campbell's the next morning.
He had made himself quite at home during our
absence, for we had been taking a morning ride.
He was sitting with his pipe in the piazza, and his
feet at their usual height, only he did not retain his
dishabille of the preceding evening, and the weight
of his coat seemed to oppress him. His pistols were
close at hand, and the unquiet wandering expression
of countenance very visible this morning.
Are you always thus disquieted, Mr. Walker,"
I gently inquired, and I did not laugh this time.
Continually on the alert, sir; obliged to be,"
was his answer.
If we abide under the shadow of the Almighty,"
I said, we need not be afraid of the terror by night,
nor the arrow that flieth by day."
He remained perfectly unmoved.
As the mountains are round about Jerusalem,"
I continued, "so the Lord is round about his
people."
Aye, his people!" he replied, with a sudden
vehemence that almost made me start.
Do you know, Mr. Scott, although we sit here
side by side, there is an immeasurable gulf between


57







A CHARACTER.


us-that which divides the right hand side from the
left."
I was so unprepared for any observation of this
kind, that I made no reply, and holding down his
pipe, with a look more sorrowful than I had ever
seen him wear, he moodily continued:
I went on my own dark, wilful way, compara-
tively with ease, but Minny (and there was an inex-
pressible tenderness in his tone when he mentioned
this name), Minny held out a light, and I saw the
dreary waste before me. She is gone, but the light
still remains-nothing will extinguish it, and now I
go on uneasily and sadly, longing yet unable to
quench it."
"Follow it, my dear sir," I said; "so shall you
bless the day your daughter was led to place it
there; follow it, and it will lead you from the wil-
derness to a land flowing with milk and honey, even
to the heavenly Canaan."
"Minny," he continued, without any reference to
my remark, "grew up as a garden flower in the
midst of our wilderness our uncivilized home.
She was as different from Bella as light from dark-
ness, as different from us all- "
As the spiritual mind is from the carnal," I
interrupted.


58







A CHARACTER.


Yes," he said, in no way offended at my remark,
" that was it; and well for her it was that she was
called away, though her sweet and dutiful affection
for me was the only ray that ever brightened a long
and dreary life of sorrow."
The whole man was changed whilst he was thus
speaking, and all his fears were forgotten.
You may go to her," I said, though she can-
not return to you."
Aye, Minny would have her grey-haired father
at her side, that I know well enough," he replied,
" but the Holy God will not admit such a one as I into
his presence, and this you know, Mr. Scott," he
added, with something like severity.
I know," I solemnly answered, that nothing
that defileth can enter into the heavenly land; but I
know that the greatest sinner can be washed and
made white in the blood of the Lamb, that clothed
in the righteousness of his great Surety he can be
presented faultless before the Father. The invitation
is unlimited-' Whosoever will, let him come and
take of the waters of Life freely.' "
But I do not will," he said. "I am miserable,
yet I would not be a saint."
You would not?" I said, "you are convinced
you would not? You would not follow after holi-
ness, you would not be led from the broken cisterns
Ht






A CHARACTER.


of earthly enjoyment to the living fountain of eternal
happiness? "
He looked thoughtful, and I felt I had said enough
on this occasion.
I joined the breakfast party with a lighter heart,
feeling thankful that I had been permitted to open
the way, as it were, to future conversations on this
all important subject.
And so it was. We now frequently talked toge-
ther on religious matters. Sometimes he would meet
my arguments with an air of impenetrability, and at
such times his countenance seemed all at once as if
made of stone. It was discouraging enough. I felt
as if all my counsels and persuasions fell powerless
before him. He made no opposition; he ensconced
himself in the stronghold of sullen indifference, a
sort of fixed determination to remain unmoved.
This was all necessary for me, that I might more
entirely feel the excellency of the power to be not of
man but of God.
"Plead thou thine own cause, 0 Thou most
Mighty," was my prayer, and then those consoling
words came to my recollection-" Why art thou cast
down, 0 my soul? hope thou in God! Even at that
moment, though I knew it not, amidst all this effort at
indifference, the sword of the Spirit had entered his
soul, the voice that shook the earth had reached his


60







A CHARACTER.


car. The proud man was to sit in the dust of humi-
liation, that he might become acquainted with Him
who revives the spirit of the contrite.
It was a little after this, that I observed he had
an increasing conviction of guilt, but he would not
look only unto Jesus as the Lamb of God who taketh
away the sins of the world.
He knew, indeed, of the great propitiatory sacri-
fice; he knew that the Lord did not require him to
come into his presence with burnt offerings, with
calves of a year old, yet, in spite of this knowledge,
something he must bring the determination to
attend the ordinances of religion, the resolve to battle
with his impetuous temper; with these he would
make a barter, as it were, of eternal life.
It was arduous work for him. He studied the
Scriptures, and he saw what the Law required.
This do and thou shalt live," sounded in his ears,
and again he set to work, and again he fell. The
members of his family dreaded even his mention of
religion. He would angrily rebuke the sins he had
so long encouraged, and such was his discontented
spirit, so maddened was he by the sense of sins
which his conscience whispered were new every
morning, that I believe he would at that time have
persecuted even unto death those who opposed him.
He was in this frame of mind when I left him to
H2


61






A CHARACTER.


return to my duties in the Port Royal Mountains,
and I think more than a year passed away without
any communication having taken place between us,
and then I received a short note from Mr. Walker,
begging me, if possible, to pay him a visit, as he was
very ill, and feared he had not many days to live.
My interest in him was all at once revived, but
Oh, with what a pang of self-reproach I felt how,
even in prayer, I had neglected to ask for him
spiritual light. If our God thus dealt with us, if
His ways were as our ways, what would become of
man ? I had even been in his neighbourhood and
neglected to visit him-I, who was the minister, the
steward of the Most High!
I tried to console myself, but it was only a mo-
mentary effort at comfort, by the idea that Mr.
Walker lived far beyond the sphere of my ministerial
duties. Did my Master lose any opportunity of
doing good ? A voice from within made inquiry.
These reflections induced me speedily to commence
my journey, my kind friend Dr. Sanders, though
staying with me to obtain a little rest, having
consented to officiate for me on the approaching Sab-
bath, should circumstances detain me longer in the
country than I had anticipated.
It was evening when I reached Lemon Grove.
There were the unpainted venetians, looking, if


62







A CHARACTER.


possible, more neglected than ever. Smudge made
his appearance, and his teeth laughed merrily as
formerly.
My heart revived. Mr. Walker must be better, I
thought, or there would be some touch of anxiety on
this boy's face.
Full of hope, I entered the dingy room. There
was the wooden chair in the same place, with a
soiled white jacket hanging on it. The slippers
were on the ground, and looked as if they had
remained there since my last visit.
It is impossible to describe the comfortless appear-
ance of that room. It was not the shadow of poverty
that darkened it, it was disorder that pervaded it.
The dried meat was hanging on the wall, and the
setting sunbeams were playing on the candlesticks
which had evidently kept their place on the table
from the preceding evening. Two empty wine-
glasses stood on the faded table-cover, and whilst I
was endeavouring to account for the discomfort
apparent, by the pressing anxiety which might have
caused all minor things to be forgotten, Bella made
her appearance.
My first eager inquiries were after her father.
She gave me to understand that the doctor considered
him in great danger, from an internal attack of gout,
and then the hissing laugh was clear and discordant
H3


63






A CHARACTER.


as ever, and I felt inclined angrily to ask her if she
had any heart at all.
The thin cook then brought me a cup of coffee,
and told me with the most inconceivable unconcern,
" that she believed for true old massa would go dead
soon."
I might have suspected that Mr. Walker's best
interests would have been neglected at such a time.
I might have been assured that no one there would
feel concern for the immortal part about to leave its
frail tenement, but such utter want of feeling for
the father and master I was not prepared to meet.
I saw it all. He had lived at war with his domestic
circle; he had ruled by fear, and affection in
trembling had flown away from that household.
But still, Mrs. Walker: if all were unconcerned
woman's enduring love would triumph!
I wish in the present instance I could carry out
this principle. I have known affection, through
cold neglect and bitter unkindness, flourish luxu-
riantly, twining its tendrils round the very tree
whose shadow was death; but sometimes-the truth
must be told-sometimes it is crushed and so cruelly
trampled on, that it cannot rise again.
We will, however, leave these reflections for the
present, and go on to the sick man's room.
As a minister, I had often visited the chamber of


64







A CHARACTER.


suffering-the bed of death. I had seen love and
grief vainly trying to arrest the progress of their
common enemy, and now, as Bella put her hand on
the venetianed door, I fancied I heard some one
sobbing, and, strange as it may seem, the very sup-
position relieved me. There was, then, one sorrow-
ful heart in that home circle, that would sigh for the
familiar step, the missing tone; one who would feel
life less glad when he was taken away.
Slowly we entered the room, and immediately
opposite the door lay Mr. Walker, in a small four-
posted bedstead.
His fine features, though much attenuated,
appeared more classical than ever, and his long grey
hair being kept in control by his nightcap, showed
his wide high forehead. There was no mosquito
net, but from the upper part of the framework of
the bedstead hung divers kinds of harness, riding
whips, and driving whips, whilst across the head-
board swords were inversely placed.
Near the window was a puncheon of rum, which
served as a table.
Mr. Walker was sleeping when I entered, and his
breath made the peculiar noise which I had mistaken
for sobs.
At the foot of his bed sat Mrs. Walker. She
greeted me with the same depressing composure.


65






A CHARACTER.


There certainly was no visible sign of distress, and
from her employment, which was novel-reading, I
judged there could be no great internal sadness.
I watched Mr. Walker as he slept. There was
occasionally a quivering thrill on his face, as if, in
sleep he was suffering.
I cannot bear, even at this distance of time, to
think of the indifference with which Mrs. Walker
looked on all this. It is sad to see the heart broken,
bleeding, torn to pieces by the tempest of affliction,
but sadder far to see it unmoved under the chastening
hand of the Almighty.
Drawing towards me a low stool, I sat beside the
dying man, and took his feverish hand in mine.
How comfortless everything seemed. The back
door of the apartment opened on a yard, where, on
some low cashaw bushes, clothes were spread to dry,
and the fowls, unrebuked, walked in and out of the
chamber.
The doctor must have given him some composing
draught," said Mrs. Walker, looking at her husband,
" for he has been much more tranquil for the last
two or three days," and then she brought many
charges against him, and complained of the martyr-
dom she had often been called upon to endure from
his impetuous disposition.
I knew that for years she had bowed under his


66







A CHARACTER.


oppression, but I sighed to think how every spark of
affection must have been extinguished, ere she could
at such a time speak so disparagingly of the husband
of her youth.
And yet, she had once loved him with fervor.
She had listened for his homeward step, and with
throbbing heart had welcomed his return.
Oh, better far for death to break the chain of
earthly love, than for the corroding rust of indiffe-
rence gradually to consume it, but still better when,
one in faith and hope, we learn to bear each other's
burdens, and being heirs together of the grace of
life, look forward to the blessed time when we shall
sit together in heavenly places.
When I turned towards Mr. Walker his eyes were
open. He pressed my hand, and thanked me for
coming, adding that he was undeserving of such
kindness.
There is something more than an opiate at work
here," I thought, and I inwardly prayed that it
might be so. I hopefully remembered the Prophet's
words-
They also that erred in spirit shall come to
understanding, and they that murmured shall learn
doctrine."
"Jesus saith unto her, 'Mary,'" he slowly
repeated. Oh, Mr. Scott, you can scarcely tell


67






A CHARACTER.


what comfort those words brought to my soul.
There was love in the tone, and she knew her
master. He has spoken to me in love," he con-
tinued, and the tears rolled down his cheeks, and
now I know that I am poor, and wretched, and
miserable, and blind, and naked. My good works!
What an idea !-all sin-stained and polluted as my
best actions are."
Then partially rising, and supporting himself on
his left arm, in a voice that almost startled me from
its solemnity,-
"But he has wrought out a perfect righteousness
for me," he said; he has redeemed us from the curse
of the law, being made a curse for us."
Here, then, was the work accomplished at which
I had so vainly laboured; accomplished without
even man's instrumentality. Prayerfully had he
studied Minny's bible, and redeeming love had
melted the hard impenetrability of his soul, and in
the softened heart-soil, humility was the first plant
that appeared. I am sure he thought himself the
chief of sinners. The change was wonderful. I
could only silently look at the altered expression of
his countenance: all fear had passed away. There
he lay-he who through life had been restless and
disquieted, painfully irritable in the slightest illness,
now calm in acute suffering, looking forward from


68







A CHARACTER.


that miserable room, with a hope full of immortality,
to the Heavenly City.
If any man among you seemeth to be wise, let
him become a fool, that he may be wise."
Mr. Walker seemed to lie as a little child at the
feet of Jesus, and in a manner that I have seldom
met with, spoke of the Saviour as near and present
with him.
I have often mourned a want of this realising
love, even amongst sincere Christians. I have
watched the affectionate wife, whose eyes grew
tearful at the very mention of a passing anxiety of
her husband's, listen with unaccountable coldness to
the tale of Calvary. And yet we should be indig-
nant if our love to God were doubted. We walk by
sight, not by faith; our affections do not go forth as
they should to Him we have not seen; no marvel,
then, that there are so many mourners in Zion, for
with lukewarm spirits such as these, the joy un-
speakable can never dwell. These things ought not
so to be.
Mr. Walker regretted very much the sad way in
which he had neglected his family, and we prayed
together for his wife and daughter.
It was a stormy night: sudden heavy showers,
with much lightning. There was a great deal of


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A CHARACTER.


woodland at the back of the house, and the lizards
croaked, the snakes hissed, the crickets chirped, and
the cashaw trees threw heavily against the venetians
their burden of rain-drops.
I sat by Mr. Walker all night, and the lamp was
dimly burning when the grey dawn of a cloudy
morning-an unusual thing between the tropics-
made the desolate apartment look more wretched
than ever.
Oh, how I pitied Mr. Walker-no heart was there
to watch over him in yearning love. Mrs. Walker
was in the hall; Bella was in bed; the nurse was
sleeping soundly. The dogs began to bark, and the
cocks vehemently to crow.
Mr. Walker murmured Minny's name; then he
told me he was dying, but begged me not to call any
one. He looked on the eastern sky, and smilingly
said,-
The night is far spent, the day is at hand."
And so it was. The everlasting morning was even
then dawning on his soul. Another moment, and he
was no longer an inmate of that desolate house. He
had done with fear and care and sorrow, and entered
into the joy of his Lord.
Would you believe, that the next day things went
on much as usual, only some preparations were made


70








A CHARACTER. 71

for Mr. Walker's interment in the evening. Bella
actually whispered a laugh when I bade her adieu,
and Smudge's teeth looked joyous as ever.
I was grieved beyond measure at the indifference
of that household. Not one there mourned for the
broken chain. Mrs. Walker looked grave, but it
was the studied appearance of one who thought it
proper to be serious. I could not mistake-no grief
was there.
Mr. Walker was beyond the reach of all this cold-
ness. He had, in the House of his God, a place and
a name, better than that of sons and daughters, even
an everlasting name, that could not be cut off.
















CHAPTER III.


ir fnrs akrn 3rih.



I WAS staying at a small coffee plantation for change
of air, having almost promised my dear wife, from
whom I was to be absent for two months, that I
would remain idle, when I received a pressing letter
from Mr. Simmons, a gentleman with whom I had
lately become acquainted, earnestly entreating me to
visit his daughter. Such a summons I could not
conscientiously disregard, and early the next morn-
ing I was on my way to that gentleman's lowland
residence. The mountains were all around me, and
in the sea of mist from which their summits indis-
tinctly rose, they appeared like islands studding
an Indian Archipelago. At a winding of the road
I looked down on the rising sun, which was as a







THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.


bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a
strong man to run a race."
Rapidly I descended the hill, and long ere the
glittering dews were dried by the scorching sun-
beams, I had arrived at the low dwelling.
Oh, that house! It was deep in the country-in
Jamaica's country-and those who have never left
England can form no idea of such solitude. The
wild cashaw trees surrounded the mansion; nay,
through the floor of the back piazza, one of those trees
in its unruly growth had protruded, and was flourish-
ing there in unabashed luxuriance. "I must be
mistaken," I thought, for I had never before visited
Mr. Simmons, as ascending the broken stone steps I
entered the hall, through the massive mahogany
doors, which from their encasement in dust, seemed
not to have been closed for years. As I advanced
into the dreary room not a living being was to be
seen. It might have been sixty feet in length. A
very old-fashioned sofa stood at one end, whilst the
other was adorned by a black mahogany side-board,
heavily carved. I say black, because time had taken
from the mahogany its usual colour, and the cocoa-
nut oil with which it had been profusely polished,
no doubt added in some degree to its sable appear-
ance. A dining table much in the same ponderous
12







THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.


style, and a few high-backed chairs, completed the
furniture of the apartment.
I walked up and down in the hopes that my boots
would summon some one to arrest the progress of an
intruder. There were two large mirrors on each
side of the arched doorway; mirrors did I say ? they
reflected but shadows of the forms presented to them,
for as I stood before them that which met my gaze
would have been an excellent copy for one of those
spiritual beings which our superstitious fancies clothe
in shadows from the tomb.
Turning from these looking-glasses to the old-
fashioned windows, I saw traced with a diamond on
one of the small panes, "Bertha Hamilton, 1788,"
and underneath in a somewhat stronger hand was
written, Horace Manley."
And can it be, I thought, that this fragile glass has
stood unharmed for so many years, whilst the young,
the strong, and the beautiful, have been swept away
like grass by the scythe of death? There were many
panes broken around; why then was this preserved ?
Age had not at that time quelled the romance of my
disposition, and how far my imagination might have
carried me I know not, but at that moment a loud
"Hi!" arrested my attention, and looking round, I
saw a large black woman with a red turban and long


74






THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.


gold ear-rings. She wore a white cotton body, a
very Art dark blue petticoat, and neither shoe nor
stocking covered her feet. I believe I looked startled,
for she smiled, and her very white teeth relieved in
a measure the monotonous appearance of her coun-
tenance.
My name is Scott," I said, and I have come
here, at the request of Mr. Simmons, to see his
daughter, who is, I understand, dangerously ill."
She did not appear in the least to comprehend me,
but after staring at me for some time, she said, Me
go bring Missis."
After waiting for more than three quarters of an
hour in this very desolate apartment, a lady entered,
and introducing herself as Mrs. Simmons, took her
seat beside me. Although many years had passed
since I visited Logwood Hall, I perfectly remember
that lady's appearance. She was rather stout, and
might have been forty-eight or fifty years of age.
Her face was very red, but this colour did not con-
fine itself to her cheeks-forehead, nose, all wore the
same hue. She had on a bright green silk dress,
made quite in the fashion of other days, and exceed-
ingly tumbled. There was an ill-conducted, or if I
may so express myself, a sort of plebeian hauteur in
her manner; it was pride without dignity, gaucherie,
but not modesty. Her thoughts, I soon discovered,
13


75






THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.


seldom ranged beyond her stores and her poultry
yard, her unruly servants, and her lack M town
luxuries in her secluded situation. During breakfast
time her tone was unchanged; it was one unvaried
note of murmur in the midst of abounding comforts.
Whenever I attempted to express my sense of the
excellent repast I was enjoying, it seemed but to
touch a chord in her heart that vibrated to reminis-
cences of better times; and when she had completed
her hearty meal, for she plentifully partook of the
many dishes in spite of their culinary inferiority, she
rose from the table without one breath of thankful-
ness to him who had thus blessed her in her basket
and her store, and as she stood in the back piazza,
giving orders for the day, the same querulous
cadence fell on my ear, and I could not help think-
ing of that great gain, even godliness with content-
ment, which is the portion of those who love the law
of their Lord.
Mr. Scott," she said, rather abruptly, "my
daughter Grace is very anxious to see you, but I
am afraid you must postpone your visit to her till
to-morrow, as she is in a state of great nervous
excitement; her disease is considered to be con-
sumption, and Dr. Cole says she must be kept from
all unnecessary agitation, I would therefore caution
you to say nothing that may alarm her. She has


76






THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.


ever been a kind and dutiful child to me, and our
rector, Mr. Morton, told me she was as pure as an
angel."
0, Madam," I quickly replied, "that cannot be;
the deep stain of sin is on us when we enter the
world, and unless cleansed in the precious blood of
Christ, we can never hope to enter the kingdom of
heaven."
Then," she said, you are one of those sancti-
fied people who mean to tell her that she must suffer
eternally, because she will not profess to be better
than her fellow-creatures;" and quite forgetting the
courtesy of manner which good taste renders so ne-
cessary in refined society, she turned from me with
il-concealed disgust.
"Grace's grandmother," at length she observed,
" put some strange notions in my poor child's head,
and this makes her so anxious to see you."
I thought of the soft answer that turneth away
wrath, and looking at her as complacently as I could,
" My message, dear Madam," I gently said, "is one
of mercy, not of wrath, the Lord hath anointed me
to preach good tidings unto the meek, he hath sent
me to bind up the broken-hearted."
Something very like a phsaw" escaped her lips,
but as if recollecting herself, she converted it into a
sigh.


77






THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.


The day seemed long and weary, but at length the
purple twilight began to rest on the flat cashaw trees,
and across the bright line of crimson in the west the
bats were flitting to and fro. Dinner was served in
the abundant style of Jamaica's olden days; a pro-
fusion of yams, a large roasting-pig at the head of
the table, whilst a couple of guinea birds, with no
inconsiderable portion of pepper pot, completed our
first course.
Mr. Simmons was a heavy-looking, quiet man.
His manner seemed to be a sort of compelled resig-
nation to an inevitable fate. After partaking plenti-
fully of Jamaica cane beverage, he became more com-
municative.
Poor Grace !" he said. "Well, what must be
must."
Here, I thought, is a field of usefulness before me,
they know nothing of the comfort of religion, nothing
of the privilege of being able to cast their cares on
Jesus; I was his ambassador, and yet I felt spell-
bound. At last I ventured to ask the old gentleman
if his daughter were in a happy state of mind.
Yes, sir, yes, I believe so," he said, "and yet,
poor child, she has been troubled of late."
Has she any conviction of sin, any sense of the
need of a Saviour's justifying righteousness and par-
doning love ?" I enquired.


78