And lifts the flaring torch to see

Thy marble chamber's sparry glow.

But thou a lesson just hast dealt,

And I the lesson just have felt,
And blush'd, as well I might,

When I my course with thine compare,
Barren with fruitful, foul with fair,
And turbulent with bright.

And I was gazing on thy stream,
O Yure, and pierc'd thy depths below,
Illumin'd by the morning beam,

And watch'd beneath each rock's dark shade,

Thy trout in blissful stillness laid,

And as I turn'd away,

Thy tabouring wave, like infant's clack,
With innocent prattle call'd me back
Again to gaze and play.

But now along thy echoing glen

I hear thee raving hoarse and loud, Like wild-beast chafing in his den,

And see thee whirling up a cloud Off thy vex'd wave, from sheltering rock Thy foamy wreath's impetuous shock

Thy scaly tribes hath sent,
And on thy bank with net in hand
The wily poacher takes his stand,
On lawless plunder bent.

Yea! purity alone is safe,

And meekness strong to guard its own; Boast, vaunt, be turbulent and chafe,

Thy grace is fled, thy wealth is gone. For round thy steps, and round thy gate, Intent the ruthless spoilers wait,

And each ungarded hour

To force or flattery open yields

Thy fame, thy fortune, house, and fields—

E'en so thou warnest, Yure.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIRST DEATH IN THE FAMILY.

I HAVE already mentioned the monuments raised to the several generations of the Rector's family, which in the different styles of different periods adorned the walls of the chancel. The latest was a long plain tablet of white marble, exhibiting a full and sorrowful list of names, which were those of the Rector, and his wife and children. There was just sufficient room left at the bottom to add the name of my friend to that catalogue, that counterpart, as I trust it is, of their enrolment in the register of eternal life. It began with recording the death of a girl of fifteen, exciting thus a melancholy interest even in the stranger. It was ever catching my eye, and often, when waiting for parties expected to some of the holy offices, I have

seated myself upon the bench opposite, and gazed in melancholy abstraction upon this com

mencement of its legend.

think, went lower in the list.

was fully sufficient to occupy

I scarcely ever, 1

This first name

my thoughts for the remainder of the time. In this seemed summed up the history of the family. In a girl of fifteen, was made the first breach of that line which the family had with presented before the Lord.

such joy annually This gentle crea

ture was appointed to be invested with that mysterious dread, that awful and shrinking feeling with which we always regard our first connexion in the spiritual world; and her voice which was ever the herald of affection and joy, was doomed to speak with them from the tomb on death and judgment to come.

In her fall was heard the first crash of the breaking up of this visionary world of flesh, and of the bursting in of the reality of the spiritual, the type began to give way, and the substance to be established. O God! thou dost not deal with thy beloved' by obscure and perplexing hints, but by open and unerring signs, and therefore didst not begin the work of their removal from earth by taking away those whom nature seemed to call, but her whose death made the

rest consider their life as in jeopardy every hour.

I was not present, alas! said my friend, one day, when he found me in the act of contemplating this monument; I was not present at the mournful scene, but arrived on the evening of the fatal day, too late to receive her parting breath. I will not dwell upon it. deed, a day of darkness.

It was, inBut the next, I have

good occasion to recollect, came with somewhat of light, and brought healing upon its wings. Night, by its refreshment to the body, but still more by that spiritual intercourse with God, to which in a manner it compels every reflecting sufferer, had done much to take out the sting of grief, and when we entered the room for prayer, it was evident, from the looks of all, that the past hours of darkness had been busy ones of meditation and self-examination. By that instinctive and unaccountable communication, which ever takes place between minds similarly affected, we seemed completely to understand one another before a word had been spoken, Our mutual remarks, therefore, consisted of that studied common-place, that peculiar kind, which, while it displays no efforts of the mind, shews at the same time that it is working hard