enjoyments of the world; yet, so far from lessening my relish of the pleasures of life, methinks I feel it heighten them all.

6. "The thought of receiving it from God, adds the blessing of sentiment to that of sensation in every good thing I possess; and when calamities overtake me -and I have had my share- -it confers a dignity on my affliction,so lifts me above the world.- -Man, I know, is but a worm -yet, methinks, I am then allied to God!"-It would have been inhuman in our philosopher to have clouded, even with a doubt, the sunshine of his belief.

7. His discourse, indeed, was very remote from metaphysical disquisition, or religious controversy. Of all men I ever knew, his ordinary conversation was the least tinctured with pedantry, or liable to dissertation. With La Roche and his daughter, it was perfectly familiar. The country round them, the manners of the village, the comparison of both with those of England, remarks on the works of favourite authors, on the sentiments they conveyed, and the passions they excited, with many other topics in which there was equality, or alternate advantage, among the speakers, were the subjects on which they talked.

8. Their hours too of riding and walking were many, in which the Philosopher, as a stranger, was shown the remarkable scenes and curiosities of the country. They would sometimes make little expeditions to contemplate, in different attitudes, those astonishing mountains, the cliffs of which, covered with eternal snows, and sometimes shooting into fantastic shapes, form the termination of most of the Swiss prospects.

9. Our Philosopher asked many questions as to their natural history and productions. La Roche observed the sublimity of the ideas which the view of their stupendous summits, inaccessible to mortal foot, was calculated to inspire, which naturally, said he, leads the mind to that Being by whom their foundations were laid-" They are not seen in Flanders!" said Miss La Roche, with a sigh. "That's an odd remark," said the Philosopher, smiling.-She blushed, and he inquired no farther.

10. 'Twas with regret he left a society in which he found himself so happy; but he settled with La Roche and his daughter a plan of correspondence; and they took his prom ise, that, if ever he came within fifty leagues of their dwelling, he should travel those fifty leagues to visit them.

LESSON V.

The same continued.

1. About three years after, our Philosopher was on a visit at Geneva; the promise he made to La Roche and his daughter, on his former visit, was recalled to his mind, by the view of that range of mountains, on a part of which they had often looked together. There was a reproach, too, conveyed along with the recollection, for his having failed to write to either for several months past.

2. The truth was, that indolence was the habit most natural to him, from which he was not easily roused by the claims of correspondence, either of his friends or of his enemies; when the latter drew their pens in controversy, they were often unanswered, as well as the former. While he was hesitating about a visit to La Roche, which he wished to make, but found the effort rather too much for him, he received a letter from the old man, which had been forwarded to him from Paris, where he had then his fixed residence.

3. It contained a gentle complaint of the Philosopher's want of punctuality, but an assurance of continued gratitude for his former good offices; and, as a friend whom the writer considered interested in his family, it informed him of the approaching nuptials of Miss La Roche, with a young man, a relation of her own, and formerly a pupil of her father's, of the most amiable disposition, and respectable character.

4. Attached from their earliest years, they had been separated by his joining one of the subsidiary regiments of the Canton, then in the service of a foreign power. In this situation, he had distinguished himself as much for courage and military skill, as for the other endowments which he had cultivated at home. The term of his service was now expired, and they expected him to return in a few weeks, when the old man hoped, as he expressed it in his letter, to join their hands, and see them happy before he died.

5. Our Philosopher felt himself interested in this event; but he was not, perhaps, altogether so happy in the tidings of Miss La Roche's marriage, as her father supposed him. Not that he was ever a lover of the lady's; but he thought her one of the most amiable women he had seen, and there was something in the idea of her being another's for ever, that struck him, he knew not why, like a disappointment.

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After some little speculation on the matter, however, he could look on it as a thing fitting, if not quite agreeable, and determined on this visit to see his old friend and his daughter happy.

6. On the last day of his journey, different accidents had retarded his progress; he was benighted before he reached the quarter, in which La Roche resided. His guide, however, was well acquainted with the road, and he found himself at last in view of the lake, which, as I have before described, was in the neighbourhood of La Roche's dwelling. A light gleamed on the water, that seemed to proceed from the house; it moved slowly along as he proceeded up the side of the lake, and at last he saw it glimmer through the trees, and stop at some distance from the place where he then was.

7. He supposed it some piece of bridal merriment, and pushed on his horse, that he might be a spectator of the scene; but he was a good deal shocked, on approaching the spot, to find it proceeded from the torch of a person clothed in the dress of an attendant on a funeral, and accompanied by several others, who, like him, seemed to have been employed in the rites of sepulture.

8. On the Philosopher's making inquiry who was the person they had been burying? one of them, with an accent more mournful than is common to their profession, answered, "then you knew not Miss La Roche, Sir?-you never beheld a lovelier"- "La Roche?" exclaimed he in reply"Alas! it was she indeed!"-The appearance of surprise and grief which his countenance assumed, attracted the notice of the peasant with whom he talked.

9. He came up closer to the Philosopher; "I perceive, Sir, you were acquainted with Miss La Roche."-" Acquainted with her!-Good God!-when-how-where did she die? Where is her father?”—She died, Sir, of heartbreak, I believe; the young gentleman to whom she was soon to have been married, was killed in a duel by a French officer, his intimate companion, to whom, before their quarrel, he had often done the greatest favours.

10. "Her worthy father bears her death, as he has often told us a Christian should; he is even so composed as to be now in his pulpit, ready to deliver a few exhortations to his parishioners, as is the custom with us on such occasions: follow me, Sir, and you shall hear him," He followed the man without answering

LESSON VI.

The same continued.

1. The Church was dimly lighted, except near the pulpit, where the venerable La Roche was seated. His people were now lifting up their voices in a psalm to that Being whom their pastor had taught them ever to bless and to revere. La Roche sat, his figure bending gently forward, his eyes, half-closed, lifted up in silent devotion. A lamp placed near him threw its light strong on his head, and marked the shadowy lines of age across the paleness of his brow, thinly covered with grey hairs.

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2. The music ceased;-La Roche sat for a moment, and nature wrung a few tears from him. His people were loud in their grief. The Philosopher was not less affected than they. La Roche arose.— "Father of Mercies!" said he, forgive these tears; assist thy servant to lift up his soul to thee; to lift to thee the souls of thy people!-My friends! it is good so to do: at all seasons it is good; but in the days of our distress, what a privilege it is! Well saith the sacred book, "Trust in the Lord: at all times trust in the Lord."

3. "When every other support fails us, when the fountains of worldly comfort are dried up, let us then seek those living waters which flow from the throne of God.-'Tis only from the belief of the goodness and wisdom of a supreme Being, that our calamities can be borne in that manner which becomes a man. Human wisdom is here of little use; for, in proportion as it bestows comfort, it represses feeling, without which we may cease to be hurt by calamity, but we shall also cease to enjoy happiness.

4. "I will not bid you be insensible, my friends! I cannot, I cannot, if I would, (his tears flowed afresh) I feel too much myself, and I am not ashamed of my feelings; but, therefore, may I the more willingly be heard; therefore have I prayed God to give me strength, to speak to you; to direct you to him, not with empty words, but with these tears; not from speculation, but from experience, that while you see me suffer, you may know also my consolation.

5. "You behold the mourner of his only child, the last earthly stay and blessing of his declining years! Such a child too! It becomes not me to speak of her virtues; yet it is but gratitude to mention them, because they were exerted to

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wards myself.- -Not many days ago you saw her young, beautiful, virtuous, and happy:-ye who are parents will judge of my felicity then,-ye will judge of my affliction

now.

6. "But I look towards him who struck me; I see the hand of a father amidst the chastenings of my God.-Oh! could I make you feel what it is to pour out the heart, when it is pressed down with many sorrows, to pour it out with confidence to him, in whose hands are life and death, on whose power awaits all that the first enjoys, and in contemplation of whom disappears all that the last can inflict!

7. "For we are not as those who die without hope; we know that our Redeemer liveth-that we shall live with him, with our friends his servants, in that blessed land where sorrow is unknown, and happiness is endless as it is perfect. Go then, mourn not for me; I have not lost my child: but a little while, and we shall meet again, never to be separated. But ye are also children: would ye my that I should not grieve without comfort? So live as she lived; that, when your death cometh, it may be the death of the righteous, and your latter end like his."

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8. Such was the exhortation of La Roche; his audience answered it with their tears. The good old man had dried up his at the altar of the Lord; his countenance had lost its sadness, and assumed the glow of faith and of hope. The Philosopher followed him into his house.-The inspiration of the pulpit was past; at sight of him, the scene they last met in rushed again on his mind; La Roche threw his arms round his neck, and watered it with his tears.

9. The other was equally affected; they went together, in silence, into the parlour where the evening service was wont to be performed. The curtains of the organ were open: La Roche started back at the sight: "Oh! my friend!" said he, and his tears burst forth again. The Philosopher had now recollected himself; he stept forward, and drew the curtains close the old man wiped off his tears, and taking his friend's hand, "You see my weakness," said he, " 'tis the weakness of humanity; but my comfort is not, therefore, lost."

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10. "I heard you," said the other, "in the pulpit; I rejoice that such consolation is your's."-" It is, my friend,' said he," and I trust I shall ever hold it fast;-if there are any who doubt our faith, let them think of what importance religion is to calamity, and forbear to weaken its force; if