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Kiss me then!' said Adelaide, throwing her arms round Helen's neck, 'I do so love you-we both do, don't we Louisa? Yes,' answered Louisa, in a sleepy tone; but I wish you would not talk so.' 'Good night then to you both,' said Helen; and as she left the room she could scarcely refrain smiling at the annoyed look of the maid, who in vain entreated Adelaide to cease talking.!

Soon after Helen returned to the drawing room she was asked to play, but was no sooner seated at the piano, than her thoughts were again wandering to the early scenes of childhood; when the future promised more than the past had given; when the gleeful laugh, and merry sports of their then jocund days echoed through the air, and all these crowned by the love of parents, now worse than dead.

Tears dimmed her eyes so completely, that the notes appeared as though dancing in a mist; and instead of proceeding with the overture she had began, ere she was aware, it had diverged into a solemn chant. 'My dear Miss Sinclair,' said Mrs. Middleton, 'that is a pretty chant, but it cannot be there I think.'

1

Helen blushed deeply and began again, where the air had insensibly led her into the strain.

Helen was far from being sorry when the evening closed; and going into her own room, where a cheerful fire awaited her, she took her little bible and drew from its rich and inexhaustible treasury, the comfort she felt so much to need.

The thirty-seventh psalm was the portion of scripture she selected for the evening's meditation; and sweetly indeed did its promises flow into her mind; infusing into it, that "peace which the world cannot give;" for the votaries of a passing world, with all their varied modes of seeking happiness, toil but in vain, to procure that which must be sought for elsewhere.

For a time indeed, many may appear to have succeeded in their search; since we observe their smile of pleasure, and listen to their accounts of the joys they call their own. But mark the end: too often we shall see that sickness, anguish, and death, will intrude; the house of joy and forgetfulness suddenly becomes transformed into "the house of mourning;" and the happiness which once appeared permanent vanishes as a shadow. But where religion has taken up her abode in the heart, it is a well of comfort; a river of peace flowing out of the "rock," which He "clave" for them: and that rock is Christ. And though whilst dwelling in this "vale of tears," afflictions are their's; still, the christian discerns a Father's hand; and this infuses a portion of sweetness, even into the most bitter cup. A sweetness which none can know, except through "Christ, the Lord of all."

Helen was thus led to trust in Him, who alone can support and strengthen; feeling at the same time, how graciously Providence had provided her with a second home, where once she had dreaded to come. So little are we aware of what God has in store, for those that put their trust in Him; and endeavour to keep in the narrow path of duty.

Helen was one, on whom kindness was never bestowed in vain; her ardent mind soon responded to the slightest indication of it; and her gratitude was expressed when others would scarcely have perceived any thing to require it. It was the consideration and delicacy she was treated with, that made her attach herself, so particularly, to Mrs. Middleton; who could duly appreciate the grateful feelings of the warm-hearted girl.

Very, very different, is this real sensibility, to the affected sentiment of a certain class of young ladies; who can lament, most pathetically, over the distresses of a lap dog, or 'a love of a pet;' and the next hour turn away, with selfish unconcern, from the calamities of a fellow creature; or by some ill-timed remark, or pointed jest, wound the feelings of one, whose pain they can secretly triumph in, but not understand.

Though the barbed arrow may find an entrance, still, they who wing the shaft, are most really deserving of pity; since it can only emanate from a mind, entirely destitute of the graces most estimable in the eye of God.

A really delicate mind is generally accompanied by that good wearing material, sound sense. The polish of education is not very essential to its existence; for, too frequently, we see persons with every outward and showy accomplishment, totally devoid of refined feeling; whilst we may find it in many a lovely plant, nurtured by the fertilizing dew of the Spirit of God; and dwelling under the thatch of a cottage. Undoubtedly much may be effected by education; but let not those whom providence has blessed with this great advantage, deem themselves necessarily refined; for if they can willingly wound another, by thought, look, or action, the true sensibility is not theirs. Weep, they may, over some sorrow of life; who does not? In this feeling self may be the origin, and the end; whilst the other proceeds from innate principle.

The only solid basis of sensibility is religion: there,

and there alone, can we find it in its native purity. It is the offspring of the charity so commended by the Apostle.

Whether we search for it in the lordly mansion, or the low-roofed cottage; they will be found to possess it in its truest form, who endeavour most to imitate the example of that One, who when about to convert the deepest sorrow into the most heartfelt joy, wept with the afflicted sisters. His soul so full of compassion, was moved; and "Jesus wept" when he himself brought the "oil of gladness." What a bright example for us to follow!

My subject has led me on, but oh! that all would choose, and keep that better "part" with Mary; not being cumbered with unnecessary care, but in all their ways imitating Him. Then should we be happy, and ever feel a christian sympathy for the woes of others. Truly, "The ways of religion are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace."

CHAPTER III.

'Gifts are the beads of memory's rosary,
Whereon she reckons kind remembrances
Of friends and old affections.'

It was the fourteenth of February, and Helen's natal day; a circumstance which the children had taken care to remember, though many weeks had passed, since it was accidentally named before them.

We are going to have a dinner party to day,' said Mrs. Middleton to Helen, as she was leaving the room after breakfast. May I ask if it will be a large party?' said Helen.

'I fear so,' said Mrs. Middleton, 'for James has invited so many gentlemen; but when you are at liberty, will you come into my dressing room? for I have something to say to you.'

Helen complied, and Mrs. Middleton presented her with an elegant keepsake. 'You must oblige me,' said Mrs. Middleton, 'by accepting this; (pointing to a beautifully-bound edition of Young's Works) it is my children's request, for they told me that it was your