you, it is utterly distinct from levity,) I saw that she possessed superior powers of mind-had thought seriously, if not profoundly, on some subjects, and had turned her reading to good account. But on one subject, that which is alone of real importance,-I discovered that she was altogether ignorant. I spoke to her of the blindness and corruption of the natural heart, and of that gracious Being who came down from heaven to open our blind eyes, and to cleanse us from our guilt and sins, in His own blood. Though too well-bred to interrupt me, or to set up her opinion in opposition to mine, her indifference-nay, I may term it deadness-was so deplorable, that my spirit felt oppressed with unspeakable heaviness. I might as well have played an air of Handel's to ears without the faculty of hearing. The sense, or faculty of conceiving anything of the nature of those vital truths which form the essential character of our holy faith, had not yet been given to her. Dear child, I sometimes left her, after having seen her utter want of perception, or interest, on such points, to retire to my closet, and pray for her, often mingling my tears with my prayers. But, not to be tedious, let me tell you that my prayers have been graciously answered.

When I began to recover sufficiently to converse again with Lucy, I bethought myself of the one way, that which I had not tried,-that by which I might alone entertain any reasonable ground of leading her careless mind to the serious consideration of divine things. She had brought her drawing materials into my room, and was sitting at my round table, finishing some views which she had sketched in this neighbourhood: (her drawings, I must tell you, are first-rate :) neither of us had spoken for some length of time. She lifted up her sweet face, and, looking at me—my eyes were then

fixed on her she smiled-as she has since told meto see how very much better I looked.

"It has just occurred to me," she said, " that you would perhaps like me to read to you."

"I should like it of all things, dear child." "What shall I read?"

"There is but one book that I should care to hear, or could listen to now, Lucy."

"May I bring it?"

"It is there, my child," pointing to my Bible, which lay near at hand, on the toilet-table. She blushed deeply; but instantly rose and took up the book. She did not open it; but sat with it in her hand, her eyes cast down, and the modest colour still varying on her fair cheek. Why do you not read, my dear child?”

"I would have you tell me where to read," she said, "and I hesitate because I fear I shall not be able to read this book as it should be read. I am so unused to read it."

"We will pray, my Lucy; for without prayer no one is able to read that Blessed Book. İ, for my part, who read it constantly, am not able to read it without praying for the Holy Spirit. We can have no insight into the Word which God has spoken, without the Spirit which God has freely offered, and given to be our guide. We are told this in plain words, as you will see, dear Lucy, if you will turn to a passage I can point out to you. She found the place, and read it at my request: "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.' Here, Lucy, is the key to the treasury of all the divine truths which are contained in that volume,—the key, alike to its simplest as to its deepest doctrines."

*

1 Cor. ii. 14.

I offered up a few words of prayer, in the name of our Blessed Lord; and I begged her to read to me part of the Epistle to the Ephesians. She read the two first chapters. I endeavoured to call her attention to some of the wondrous truths which are so finely stated there. The sovereignty of God; our election and adoption, by grace, in Christ Jesus, in whom we have redemption, through His blood; the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace; the sealing of the Holy Spirit of promise, which is the earnest of our inheritance; the state of all of us since the fall, dead in trespasses and sins, till quickened by Him, together with our crucified Lord; and that clear statemeut of the scheme of our salvation,-" By grace ye are saved, through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast for we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them."

"It is all strange and new to me," she said very gravely. "Is it that no one ever told me this before? or is it that I have heard it, and have been as one who hears the sounds of voices, but has distinguished no articulate speech, and has not heeded them?"

"Your first surmise may or may not be true, my child, for alas I grieve to think how seldom the plain and saving truths of the Gospel are heard in their fulness and their simplicity from our pulpits; the second, so far as I can judge, is certainly true; but whatever may have been your state, I think I see the clouds breaking and beginning gradually to disperse and clear away. If this be of God, and I trust it is, you will have light from Him as you are able to bear it, till the darkness is past and the true light shineth."

Day after day these conversations were renewed,

and I saw in Lucy one whose earnestness and gentleness made me liken her to Lydia, "whose heart the Lord opened." So far from turning away from the consideration of the things of God, she seemed as one who had found a spring of living waters in a desert, and who could not cease to drink of those refreshing waters. The search after truth had begun, and she could not rest satisfied till the glorious plan of our salvation, as set forth in the inspired word by the Lord our God, had opened upon her. Her energy of mind was that of a thoughtful, earnest man; but her meek and teachable spirit, that of a little child.

As for myself, weak as I was, these conversations caused me no fatigue. The interest they awakened within me for the gentle inquirer, has I really think brought back my former energies, and called them again into exercise; and strange as you may think it, my dear friend, my spirits and my health began to rally from that hour. Well, she has left me, and I feel almost as I did when my own dear child, your friend Honoria, was taken away from me! But I had almost forgotten the chief object of this letter: Where does your brother reside in S-re? I wonder if the Temples of Temple Pleasance are in his neighbourhood? Lucy is to be married to the cadet of that family, a Reverend Allan Temple. He has just taken possession of one of the family livings, a lovely place Lucy tells me, named Springhurst. Can your brother or his dear wife send me any account of Mr. Temple and of Springhurst? I am interested in my inquiries, for I have some thoughts, old as I am, of leaving this place, which has never agreed with me, and of taking a house at or near Springhurst. The lease of my house here is up in half a year. I have the option to renew my agreement on the same terms as at present; but since the death of my beloved Pastor,

I have felt unsettled. His successor does not supply his place to me; and I have now little in which I find, or care to find enjoyment, but the word of God. If Mr. Temple is what I hope Lucy's husband may be, I have a great mind to become one of his congregation; that is, if a comfortable residence is to be found near them. In S-re too, I should have more frequent opportunities of having you with me, as I should be so much nearer to you. You will think me out of my senses, I fear, to talk of removing myself and my household at my advanced age; but my old and worthy servants will take all that trouble off my hands, and arrange every thing for me. My faithful maid, Jenny Cox, seems to feel Lucy's departure almost as much as I do. She was in fact, without knowing it, the person to put this scheme into my head. "Ah, my lady," she said, with a tear in her eye when she was dressing me for dinner, "I wish we could pack up, and go and live near Miss Harington. It does one good to see her sweet face and all her winning ways; as for Mr. Thompson, (meaning my good old butler,) he says the house is like a cage which has lost a singing-bird, now she is gone; and we all think she made your ladyship grow young again while she was with you. She is the most lightsome young creature I ever saw; and yet what a nurse she is in a sick room! as quiet as a mouse, and as bright as an angel! When I was all flustered like and fit for nothing, on that night when you were so wild and light-headed, how calm she was! and though her lovely face was as white as a sheet and all wet with her tears, how she made you mind her with just a gentle word or two, when she got you to take your night draught, and when she put your poor hands quiet on the coverlid, and coaxed you to lie quite still, till the draught took effect, and you fell into