"I think they must be about your ages," answered Grace; "the eldest little girl is just eleven, and the youngest between five and six."

"That does not look at all like our churches," observed Martha Blake, who had never been more than half a dozen miles beyond her native village.

"No; it is quite different from any in this neighborhood," said Grace, "although it is built upon the model of a church in England, in Warwickshire, if I am not mistaken; but you know that the BUILDING does not signify; for all which have been consecrated by the Bishop, and set apart for the especial service of God, are alike holy, and we may feel equally at home in any one of them; for, throughout the world, we shall find the same prayers in which we have been taught to join; and," she continued, pointing to a cross which crowned the tapering spire, "here is an emblem which is common to us both: can you tell me what verse in the Bible this recalls to mind ?"

The children seemed perplexed for a moment; and then Mary asked whether it was not that passage of St. Paul's Epistle to the Ephesians, in which he speaks of there being but "one Lord, one faith, one baptism."

"Yes; you are quite right, my love;" said Grace. "In one Lord, the hopes of all of us are centred; to all must the sacred symbol of His sufferings suggest the same thoughts of infinite and unchanging love, and with that sign was each one among us sealed in Holy Baptism. The same warfare, you perceive, the same journey through the wilderness of this world, leading to the same bright and glorious kingdom, even the 'inheritance of the saints in light.""

"The Creed speaks of the communion of saints," observed Mary, in a thoughtful tone.

"Yes," resumed Grace; "the blessed company of all faithful people;' all who are true members of the body of Christ, whether they belong to the Church on earth, or to the Church Triumphant."

"But the members of the Church Triumphant will be quite ONE, will not they?" asked little Maggie; and she drew nearer to Grace, and looked with inquiring earnestness into her face.

Grace was really startled by the energy of her tone, and by the strange, beautiful light which illumined her pale and wasted, but most lovely features. It was evident that the child's nature was peculiarly excitable, and although

the theme upon which they had been conversing was in itself most soothing and consolatory, yet in the little girl's weak state of health, continued and intense thought upon any subject might be injurious, and Grace felt it would be wisest not to pursue the conversation farther.

"All members of Christ's holy Church are one even now," she answered, gently, as she took the child's burning hand within her own, and imprinted a kiss upon her pallid brow "but in heaven they will be always united, and learn to know and love each other more and more; but we shall not forget one another even here, I hope," she added, turning to the little circle, in whose welfare she took so warm and affectionate an interest.

"No, indeed, Miss; never," exclaimed several voices. Maggie's was not among them, but she still held Grace's hand with an almost convulsive pressure.

"I fear I have detained you quite too long, dear children," observed Grace; "but I really could not bear to say good-bye."

"Oh no, Miss; we can walk very fast," replied Ned Dawson, a sprightly boy of nine; "but have we not prevented you from drawing?"

"I think I may still allow myself ten minutes," answered Grace; "and that will enable me to take the outline, which I can afterwards fill up at leisure; but I must beg you will be careful of Maggie, for she seems quite worn out."

"May not I stay with you, dear lady?" inquired the child, timidly.

"I wish you might," Grace answered; "but I should not like to make your parents anxious."

"Oh, never fear, Miss!" exclaimed Ned, good-naturedly; "we will stop and tell her mother that she is quite safe."

"Yes," continued Fanny Blake; "and we will leave your baskets at the inn, if you will let us; we are obliged to pass it on our way to Mrs. Parker's."

Grace cordially thanked them for their kindness; and then having ascertained that there was no immediate danger to be apprehended from the tide, she stepped lightly out upon the reef, followed closely by her little favorite Maggie.

They were soon seated upon the highest point, and Grace having waved her handkerchief as a farewell signal to the little group upon the shore, set herself diligently to im

prove the few hurried moments which yet

remained at her command.

It was a wild, impressive scene, and one well calculated to inspire a far less enthusiastic person than Grace Melville. Towards the west the tall, dark rocks towered high in dreary grandeur, the outline of every jagged peak being clearly defined against the blue, transparent sky; but on turning eastward, the line of cliffs became for a short distance less abrupt, and the eye was free to range inland over a most singular tract, broken into deep, grassy hollows, interspersed with mounds and boulders, all spangled with innumerable wild-flowers, and watered by many a softly-murmuring streamlet—yet, despite these elements of smiling beauty, wearing even at that charmed hour an air of loneliness and melancholy indescribable, but not, therefore, the less keenly felt; the view was bounded by the purple hills: and to the east, along the shore, the rocks again arose in frowning majesty; while upon the highest of the hillocks, which were scattered over the surface of the plain, was perched a singularly constructed lighthouse, that formed a prominent feature in the landscape.

Grace's skilful pencil had ere long transferred the leading characteristics of the scenery