in her memory, but it sank into her heart, and seemed to carry her up to heaven, quite away from all earthly, vexing cares. And when they rose from their knees, dear mamma was asleep, and slept for hours! Meanwhile, papa got some very strong jelly from the inn, and when she woke, he or Kent gave her a spoonful of it from time to time, which she seemed to like; for, when she wanted more, she opened her lips without speaking; and Arbell or Kent watched her lips all night long, taking it by turns to sleep a little on the ground. Poor papa got a little rest in the easy-chair in the parlour. The doctorDr. Thorpe—had come very early in the morning, and twice more in the course of the day, and was excessively kind, though at first he had seemed rather brusque. He said all the travellers, innpeople, and guides were deeply interested in mamma, and prayers were being offered up. (Poor Arbell's writing was here smeared with tears). An English lady had sent Arbell a little text-book, which was a great comfort to her, and so were many hymns she remembered; but she

had her little diamond Bible in her pocket already; there were parts in it that she thought she should never be able to read hereafter without their bringing to mind that little whitewashed room, with table, chairs, and drawers painted sea-green, and cold, uncarpeted floor. She was going to bed that night-papa insisted on it; but at four o'clock Kent would change places with her; the pasteur was going to sleep in the easy-chair. She would soon write to dear Miss Prout again.

Thus ended poor Arbell's letter. What depths of new experience had she sounded in a few hours! I could not help thinking of those beautiful words of the prophet Hosea, "Come, let us return unto the Lord; for He hath torn, and He will heal us; He hath smitten, and He will bind us up." I felt an impression that it would be so in this instance.

The Pevenseys had been what people might call a moderately religious family; but without much devotional feeling apparent among them. Mrs. Pevensey was a churchwoman; her husband had

been brought up among dissenters; Mademoiselle Foularde was a Roman Catholic; and each had such a well-bred respect for what they deemed the prejudices of one another, that I had sometimes feared it tended to a little indifferentism in practice. But what right had I to judge of others? To their own Master they would stand or fall.

"Motives are all, in Heaven's impartial eye,

But 'tis not ours to doubt and give the lie;
Let each give credit to his neighbour's share,
But analyse his own with utmost care.'

How many afflicting thoughts must have passed through poor Mrs. Pevensey's mind, as she silently lay, hour after hour, sewn up in her sheep-skin! I thought she must have needed more than the fortitude of a Roman matron; nothing could have given her composure commensurate with her need of it, under such circumstances, but the submission and faith of a Christian. trial, so afflictive at the time, might yet hereafter be reverted to as the crowning mercy of her life,

* Jane Taylor.

This

by having led her to more complete subjection to the will of her heavenly Father.

Margaret Prout came in this morning, looking so pleased that I concluded she had fresh and better news of Mrs. Pevensey. But no-she had only a letter from Harry, and a note from Emily. I begged she would read me Emily's first, which she did. Emily said that immediately on hearing of what had happened, Mrs. Pevensey's maiden sister,—who goes among the young people by the name of Aunt Catherine,-packed up bag and baggage, got a passport and bills of exchange, and started off with a courier for the scene of affliction. What a comfort she will be to them all! Many would have shilly-shallied, and written to ask whether they were wanted, and looked about for an escort, and awaited a quiet sea for crossing, and nobody knows what, till the real day of need had passed. That is not Aunt Catherine's way. "What thou doest, do quickly,"

has, throughout her life, been to her a precept of Divine obligation. She does not do things hurriedly-all in a scramble, so as to be twitted with "most haste, worse speed," by people less energetic than herself; but she does them at once; consequently, she does them efficiently; while her ardour, uncooled, supports her through the undertaking, and makes her insensible of half the difficulty. I always regard this as a very fine element in her character. Aunt Kate does not look twice at a pill before she takes it; nor lose the post for want of finishing a letter in good time; nor send a cheque to be cashed at the county-bank after office-hours. She is never likely to be short of postage-stamps, or of money for current expenses, or to leave small debts unpaid, or small obligations uncancelled, and then to content herself with saying, "Oh, I forgot that!" There is no one on whom I should more surely rely for knowing, in a common-sense, unprofessional way, not only what remedy to take for any illness, or what measures to resort to in case of a burn, scald, or fractured limb, but what antidote to