made most ample compensation, and our now fast ripening minds were able to appreciate the value of the intercourse, and zealous to draw from it all the advantages with which it was so teeming.

Whenever he went from us, he left aching hearts behind. For several mornings (I remember) after his departure, I would pass this door with a sigh, and even stay and look in, as almost hoping to see him, as usual, sitting at his fire. Never was "Amen!” more heartily pronounced than by all of us at the close of the prayer, in which my father prayed for his safe return, and thanking God for the blessings of the late visit, implored him to repeat the same in its due season.

He was about the same age as my father, and survived him by a few months; but even that short space of time was sufficient for him to exhibit proofs, by his kindness to us, of the zeal and permanency of his friendship.

Having had before my eyes, up even from my infancy, this model of a friend, you may suppose that I have neglected no means to acquire one for myself. But I have been less fortunate than my father. I have never yet found one who has realized my wishes. Perhaps the notion which

I had conceived of friendship, being associated with my happiest days, was refined in advancing years by time and absence into something too unearthly. Memory is ever too apt to drop the gross terrene substance, and present us but with the pure spirit; thus I became, perhaps, too fastidious, and expected to find in my first communication what can be the effect but of long years of friendship. Friends, in the common sense of the word, I have had many, and many, alas! have verified their proverbial fickleness. My consolation under the unkind desertion of such friends, I present you in these lines, written under its immediate smart.

THE ONLY FRIEND.

I have had friends, and thought them so,
Had friends both intimate and many,

But all have left me long ago,

Save the sole real friend of any:

His faith in dazzling contrast shows
All other friends but secret foes.

Had friends whom one unguarded speech,
Or one impatient look would scare,
Who sought occasion for a breach,
Inconstant as the passing air.

But this, impatient word or look

Could never scare-he ne'er forsook.

And friends whom never humblest call,
Nor meekest proffer brought again,
Tho' years had flown, and chang'd us all,
And nearer came the grave-'twas vain.
But this, be but a wish implied,

That instant combats at my side.

And friends, upon whose lips I hung,
And sweeter than the honey deem'd
The doctrine flowing from their tongue;
O fool, with bitterness it teem'd.
But all is true from this that flows,
His well of love no bitter knows.

And friends, who lock'd me to their breast, Hid all from me their doubts and cares, And I in turn my thoughts supprest,

My faults conceal'd, nor told them theirs. But this has every thing reveal'd,

And I have nought from this conceal'd.

And friends, who when the feast was spread Were ever nigh, and warm, and glowing; But never shar'd my sorrow's bread,

And woe-cup full to overflowing.

But this, neglected in my joy,

In woe and pain is ever nigh.

And friends, who firm and constant stood,
Thro' woe and pain-and yet their aid
Was but to weep 'twas all they could-
And furnish hopes their hearts forbade.
But this, all woe, all pain can cure,
The hopes this gives are firm and sure.

And friends, whom regions far away,

For weary lagging years would sever, Or some inexorable day

Tear from my clinging arms for ever; But this, thro' either world survives, Still nigh, still sure, for ever lives.

And who is this, thy best of friends,
What land contains a gem so rare ?
His home of fadeless bliss extends

O'er earth, o'er ocean, and o'er air:
His rule around, above, below,-
O Lord, this best of friends art thou.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE LIBRARY.

I HAVE already mentioned the Rector's library. I had frequently heard from old people accounts of its great extent. But as to persons of their class and attainments, even a moderate collection of books presents a most imposing appearance, seems, indeed, a perfectly inexhaustible fund of study, such reports are so exaggerated as to afford little clue to the real fact; much did I regret that it had been removed but a short time before my arrival. For, besides other reasons, I put much faith in the common observation that a man's collection of books gives us a key to his mind, and therefore looked for much insight into my predecessor's turn of thought from this inspection. I was, however, fortunate enough to see the "disjecti