mass and as one family all rejoiced together in a common and glorious hope.

Oh, but I would like passing well to be able to give you the outline of the sermons delivered at this meeting! but space will not permit. The general themes were :-The immeasurable love of God as manifested to man through Christ Jesus; the perfect wisdom and benevolence of all the divine dispensations, throughout all space and all duration; the happiness inevitably attendant upon virtue, and misery upon vice; man's obligations to man, and to God; and how the due discharge of these is promotive of public and private good; the resurrection of all mankind to an incorruptible, immortal, and glorious state; the final extinction of death, suffering, sin; and the reconciliation of all intelligences to their all-perfect and benevolent Creator; that he may be all in all. These are but the general and more prominent topics; but within this grand outline many beautiful particulars were comprised. I am tempted to give you a sketch of the closing discourse, by Mr. S.; from it you may, with some approach to accuracy, infer the general character of the whole.

His text was from Matthew 6, 34: "Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself-Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." "It seems the scope and purpose of the popular theology," said the preacher, "to shed a frightful gloom upon man's vision of the future; to people that future with horrid phantoms, and thereby to encumber him with perplexities and harassing forecasts of evil; as if the brief path from the cradle to death were not already sufficiently thorny and tearful. The advice contained in the text, must have been designed by the benevolent Savior, as a preventive of this superstitious folly on the part of weak and blind humanity.

"If man is indeed," continued Mr. S. "ushered into the world an infant demon, full of malignant hatred toward his Creator, (of whom he is utterly ignorant, as of all things else,) and a subject of that Creator's wrath, and that wrath has kindled for his spirit, in a world beyond the grave, a furnace of intense and unquenchable fires; and man has but the short and precarious term of his mortal life allowed him, within which to appease that wrath and avoid those fires; if all this be the case, then indeed is his utmost solicitude about the future fully justified; and

with all his agonising sensibility on that head, he falls unspeakably short of being so to a sufficient degree. But then, what are we to think of the Savior's precept? Does he not positively interdict this solicitude, on the ground, that each day has its own sufficient evil?

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. S. "perish for ever that dark and blighting theology, whose business it seems to spread additional thorns in the pathway of life, and engender distrusts of that almighty love, by which in all our sufferings and dangers we are constantly over-watched!" And he proceeded to point out the grounds for a confidence in heaven; for a cheerful acquiescence in all the divine allotments during the present, and a suppression of all anxieties about the future, save such as are indispensable to a proper regard for our well-being, and for that of the creatures dependant on our care and providence. "Man's interests beyond the grave," said he, " are in infinitely better hands than his own; in his whose love for him exceeds that of a mother's for her offspring by as much as an atom is exceeded by infinity; in those hands they are safe; and it was a consideration of this fact without doubt that dictated the text before us, interdicting all distressing solicitude about the future.

"This life," said the preacher, "hath its own sufficient and substantial miseries, and it is quite unnecessary to pry into an unseen world-a terra incognita, and to tantalise ourselves with those unreal, those shadowy horrors, by which a false religion ever seeks to bolster up its pretensions.

"Nevertheless," continued the preacher, "though I admit that this world is sufficiently sorrowful, and, to a certain extent, properly termed a 'vale of tears,' yet do I not fully sympathise in those sickly repinings at its miseries and vanities, which are too commonly drawled out from the pulpit, for the world is the workmanship of God; and it is correspondently beautiful-beautiful surpassing description. Its mountains and valleys, hills and plains, rivulets, rivers, lakes, oceans; its infinitely diversified forms and colours ;-for it embraces all the hues of the rainbow variously blended and combined: all are beautiful. Then the sun pours down upon it a flood of glory by day, and the moon mantles it with a silver radiancy by night; and oh! is not the canopy beautiful when it is scintillating with its millions of stars! And

there is much of moral beauty too in this much-abused world of ours, maugre all that the bigot, and the cynical philosopher may say to the contrary. See, for instance, maternal love, strong as death,' bending over the cradle of infancy, and the couch of affliction; see hearts united by mutual affection reciprocally sustaining each other through long, long years of trial and suffering: see -in short, amidst the darker aspects of human life, on which gloomy theologians are wont to dwell, there are transpiring a thousand scenes to engage the approving notice of all-seeing Heaven. Yes, this is a beautiful world.

"Yet ought we to remember," said Mr. S., "that it is not our abiding home, nor does it afford to man's unbounded spirit sufficient scope for the expansion of its powers: we may therefore look forward to a world beyond the precincts of time and death; not with gloomy forecasts of evil, but in the cheering hope of ere long dwelling in its realms of sinless purity, and of basking forever in its cloudless light. It is with this kind purpose that the hand of religion draws aside the screen which conceals future things; that from the prospects of a better world we may gather encouragements to sustain us under the trials and sorrows of this she whispers to man's doubting heart the cordial assurance, that the wings of divine protection are ever over him; amidst the vicissitudes of life she points his hopes to a more enduring and changeless existence; and she dries up his tears, by referring him to a time when all tears shall be wiped, and cease to flow for ever and forevermore."

The preacher closed his discourse with some excellent observations, tending to reconcile man to his condition on earth while he stays here, and to leave it with cheerfulness when called hence to a better inheritance; to beget in his bosom sentiments of kindness and good-will toward his fellow man; to incite him to a willing discharge of all his obligations, and to swell his heart with love and gratitude to God, for the revelations of his love through Jesus Christ. In reference to the forbearance necessary to be exercised toward those who differ from us in religious faith, he used, I thought, a very pretty comparison.

"You and I, my brother," said he, "take our stand on a high eminence, whence we can command a wide prospect of hills, and plains, and forests, and streams, stretching away in the distance

as far as the eye can reach; the sun is setting, and to me it seems to be dipping down into the very bosom of a lake in the distance. In the lake!!' you exclaim, with great surprise; why I can see hills far, far beyond; and the sun seems to be immediately over them!' Now the difference here, my brother, must be owing to the superior strength of your visual organs over mine, enabling you to see much farther than I; and I should be almost beside myself to quarrel with you for such a cause. Well, then, you ought to bear with another, if to his mental vision, the divine and infinite love-the sun of the moral universe-seems to shed its beams upon all intelligences, insomuch that not one can ever get beyond its vital and cheering influences; whilst to your more restricted perception there seem to be millions whom the light of that sun will never touch, and millions upon millions in regard to whom, after life's brief day, it will set to rise no more, leaving them in rayless darkness and despair for ever and ever."

I can assure you, reader, that whoever was an uninterested auditor during the services of this association, our heroine was not; her ear seemed eagerly to drink in every word; she had never in all her life witnessed religion under aspects so attractive; it seemed to her that the prevalent and ardent anticipations of heavenly bliss had brought down its realities to earth. "The poet may here be quoted with truth and emphasis,” thought she, Every sentence, oh how tender! Every line is full of love."

As the meeting was about to close, the preachers, who were now together in the desk, or within the area around it, united their voices with the choir in the opposite gallery, in singing that beautiful hymn,

"Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion take;"

and every heart seemed to heave with a pang of regret, when the parting benediction was invoked.

"Well Alice," archly remarked Miss J., as they walked arm in arm to her father's house, “you see that we publicans and sinners engage, occasionally, in the worship of God after our heathenish fashion; we omit, it is true, what many seem to consider as the chief essential in the business, viz: the imagery of a dark infernum. with its myriads of lost spirits, groaning to the

glory of God from beds of burning coals. But, on the whole, and bating this beautiful item, tell me, Alice, how did you like the meeting?"

Alice made no response save by pressing the arm of her companion with her own, with an emphasis which indicated that she was in no mood for discourse, but rather for silent communion with her own thoughts; and they, accordingly, prosecuted the residue of the short walk to Miss J-'s paternal residence in silence.

I may here inform the reader that Miss J-lives in the first house above the humble edifice in which Alice holds her school; it is in nearly the most pleasant part of the valley; to the westward may be seen, at some distance across the beautiful plain, some glimpses of the Susquehanna, meandering like a broad riband of silver through the lovely landscape, and laughing in the sunbeams, as if conscious it were imparting to that landscape its principal charm. On the east, the part of the hill just opposite, is somewhat depressed, and marked with one or two slight openings or defiles, formed probably by the occasional rivulets which congregate after heavy rains; it is also somewhat rounded from the same cause, and presents several convex slopes, with narrow passages between, which are smooth, or appear so in the distance, and covered with grass; these give to this point of the valley a very picturesque effect. It was by one of these passages that Alice gained the position on the hill side, where she found the "Old Squire,” (as described in chapter 3) and she was now irresistibly led to seek the same spot, that she might be perfectly alone, and once more feast her eyes with the prospect to be obtained from that eminence. I have said once more, for her parents had by letter expressly enjoined her instant return to Connecticut.

CHAPTER VII.

"OH! for an angel's harp! and an angel's skill to touch its chords and awaken its harmonies! for human language falls immeasurably short of themes so grand and extatic. Henceforth and forever I abjure all impious distrusts of my almighty Father's