nel; she would delight to shew him the light and shade varied on the branches of an ancient oak; she would point out to him the windows of an humble cottage, brightened by a setting sun, and seen sparkling through the broad foliage of a sycamore; she would make him listen to the harmonious gurgling of a little stream, mark its graceful windings down a glen, and notice the variety of plants nourished by its waters. It was thus she discovered to him new sources of enjoyment. Welburn felt himself indebted to her in another way. He had been always generous, and generally inclined to be very charitable, as far as charity consisted in giving alms. Soon after their arrival in the vale of Dalsy, Maria became acquainted with most of the cottagers; they found in her a friend who would always listen to their griefs, and was constantly anxious to assist them in sickness or distress. She would come home to her husband with a tale of a peasant woman, poor and paralytic, living in a miserable cottage, suffering with resignation, without friends, and without hope of recovery. Such a relation before his marriage, would have been but a claim for money, and a passing sympathy, which he was always very ready to give to a fellow creature in distress;-but actually to go and visit a bed-ridden female, to inquire into her ailments, to listen to her long complaints, was what he would never have dreamt of doing. Yet the wife whom he so tenderly loved, led him to the humble dwellings of affliction. The interest she took in misery, extended to his own bosom. He saw poverty and sickness in lowly cottages, which he had never before thought of entering. He heard the voice of gratitude blessing him, not only for the money which he gave, but for the kind sympa. thies which he shewed; for the visits of benevolence which he made to the poor and helpless; and for the advice and con solation he gave to the afflicted, in mind as well as body. He found pleasures most pure and delightful arise from these new feelings and occupations; and he began more truly to love his fellow creatures, when he found how nearly he was allied to them in wants and weaknesses. He was not ashamed to feel happy in the affectionate praises of his wife, after some of his charitable visits to inquire after her poor patients. Possession had not made him less anxi ous that she should esteem and love him. When he pressed her to his bosom with the tenderest affection, he would only regret that he had not known sooner the happiness of a married life. CHAPTER V. She nurs'd the smiling infant on her breast, In THE affection which Mr. and Mrs. Welburn felt for each other, became mellowed and refined by the lapse of years. As they' felt themselves becoming older, their hearts united if possible more closely. Affliction served to make this union more intimate and tender. They had four children, but only the eldest of them survived. Mrs. Welburn suffered severely from these los ses, and Mr. Welburn had, besides, a source of grief which he dared not reveal to her. As he looked upon his son, he recollected, with a most bitter feeling, the communication of Mr. Leswald. He feared not for his wife, but he trembled to anticipate how much little Henry might suffer from the malady, it was probable he carried in his veins. Mrs. Welburn had a great desire that her son should become a clergyman. Her piety wished to dedicate to God, the only child he had spared to her. To this Mr. Welburn readily consented, provided the inclinations of little Henry should not be decidedly for another profession. It had been determined, that at the age of seven years he should be sent to school. But Henry became so dear to Mrs. Welburn, and so necessary to her existence after the loss of her other children, that he completed his fourteenth year, without having known any other authority than that of his parents. During this time, his |