beauties of whatsoever things in woman's character are pure, lovely, and of good report. There was a transcendent freshness and bloom in her manner-she had read daily the holy scriptures-her mind was imbued with that faith which looks to things that are not seen as though they were seen-she thought of those graces and celestial tranquil joy which are eternal, not as though they were visible only in the distant future-she considered those graces as emanations which might beautify the first temple of her indwelling soul; and to her those joys were emotions which might mingle with the present, though in their intensity and fulness they could only be known in the second and more glorious temple of her being—the temple of immortality.

Mary Thelluson, however, was not indifferent to the unforbidden pleasures and affections of the world; she had the usual accomplishments of a young woman who had to occupy and adorn a superior situation in life. When the prospect of marriage suggested itself to her mind, she neither lingered on the thought with anxiety, nor turned from it as from a tale of romance; she had not borrowed her

impressions from the pages of fiction, but from the marriage of her parents, and those young friends who had preceded her to the flower-crowned altar. She felt that it must be a source of happiness to have one dear friend during our lives, united with us in all our sorrows and adversities. She had seen the alleviation of her mother's sufferings in the hour of sickness and pain, by her surviving parent's ever ministering care. On the bed of death she had heard a mother's lips blessing God for her child; and she could not but look forward and think, that soon she might be in the dreary world alone. In the course of nature death would soon remove her father from those scenes which his presence made still pleasant and consolatory to her heart; her brother was distant and married. She might she did look for some bosom upon which she might lean in her brief flitting through this vale of trial. The idea of a cold, and still, and emotionless solitude, was too repulsive for admission. If her attachment was eventually fixed on an unworthy object-if it proved the cause of deep and long misery, let not her love be too hastily condemned. In common with others she inherited

a susceptible and affectionate disposition; and if she erred in too favorable a view of one whom she wished to be as virtuous as he was dear to her, it was an error incident to the fond hope of a pure and unsuspicious heart, combined with that inexperience of judgment, and illusive calculation of the future, which the young will often form from their happy retrospect of the past.

Her brother had become much attached to Everard; and though they had seldom met, yet there was a kindred feeling-a predisposition to friendship arising from a similarity of mental power, and an ardor of character, which formed a sudden regard between them. It was the sympathy of nature rather than the attachment of time. Novis Thelluson's first wish was that his sister should be married to his friend; and a brother or sister's interest in a lover's favor are powerful auxiliaries to the first scarce perceptible sensations of regard to encourage a wavering confidence, or rekindle a fading affection.

The reasons for Mr. Thelluson's objections to the alliance are stated in the following letter to his son, who resided on his living at Home

ashton. It was written in reply to a remonstrance in behalf of Roman Catholic Truth, and a Roman Catholic Marriage.

MY DEAR SON,

Your letter gives me surprise and pain. I am no silly bigot, though I fear such you would almost represent your father, for adherence to the faith of my ancestors; but I lament to perceive your ignorance of the great subject of religion, and the intemperance with which you have come to a false conclusion. Before, however, I enter on the Creed of the Church of Rome, let me lay your fears at rest in one momentous particular. I do not object to Mr. Everard only because he is of a faith which I believe dark and erroneous, but because I think him an infidel. There are pas sages in his history during the year he was a resident at Paris, which prove him to be a disciple of the academy of eternal sleep. Do not, however, imagine that I impute this his infidelity to an education at St. Omer, or the formulary of Pope Pius. He might have been so under any profession. I will not say that he mixed with all sorts of society at a Catholic seminary, and

derived from his college habits his principles of Atheism. Heaven forbid that I should speak so lightly of any place appointed for the moral and intellectual instruction of youth. Were any such insinuation to be produced against our own universities, you know how warmly we should feel, though we might consider the calumny too low for resentment. If, however, you inquire of me in what manner the general doctrine and spirit of the Roman Catholic faith was calculated to act upon a mind like that of your friend, I will give you my sentiments with candor, and I hope with charity. It is evident that there have been two fatal sources of his most unhappy principles: the one a tendency to reason solely from observation; the other, a reference to the senses only in the pursuit of happiness. Thus, when he was led to contemplate as true, things that were contrary to that reason which he derived from the Divine Author of his existence, he turned from them with indifference. He was untaught in those things which though far above the expanse of the finite understanding, have still Divine agreement with the gift Divine, and engage our faith in truths unsearchable, from their harmony