Rescue thee from sin and woe, Sweet as Spring's first op'ning rose, None thy loveliness deny. I would not have thee like the flow'r, Oft refresh'd by falling show'rs, And with immortal verdure crown'd*. Edwin was the constant companion of his papa, in his daily walks. On these occasions, Mr. H. would often, from some little circumstance which occurred, speak to the little boy, on subjects of the greatest importance to his present and everlasting welfare. As they were returning, on a fine spring evening, from one of these delightful and pro *Psalm i. fitable rambles, they came through the plot of ground in which Edwin's dear mamma was deposited. Mr. H. paused near the family burying-place, and seemed wrapped in solemn thought: the sentiment of the poet occurred to his recollection, and he softly repeated it from a full heart, "Of joys departed, Not to return, how painful the remembrance!" Edwin did not notice his papa, but was endeavouring to read the inscription, which was on a marble tablet over the vault. When he had finished reading it, he exclaimed: "Why, papa, dear mamma is in this tomb! Is'n't she?" "Yes, my child, it is indeed her tomb." "And are her eyes shut, papa?" 66 Yes, my dear boy, they are: those eyes, which were so often raised in devotion to the throne of God, are closed, to be opened on. earth no more for ever." "And will she never speak again?" "Oh that she could, my dear! But the tongue which so often admonished and instructed us, and uttered the language of prayer and of praise, is silent: its delightful accents will no more break upon our ears." "And can't she do any thing?" "O no: those dear hands which so actively and faithfully discharged the duties of life, and ministered to the necessities of God's poor people, are cold and motionless." "And is she not quite in the dark, papa?" "Yes, my child, the curtains of a deep midnight are indeed drawn around the body; but the happy spirit, which saw by the eye, which heard by the ear, which acted by the hands, which beamed in the countenance, and which conversed by the tongue, still lives, Edwin, and will live for ever." "And where is she, then, papa?" "The body is in this tomb; but the ransomed soul, clothed in garments of light, exults in the presence and favour of God, whose loving-kindness is better than life." "Oh, how I should like to go to her!" said Edwin, weeping. "If she were permitted to speak to us," said his father; "and perhaps she is not far from us, for angels are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation; and, as Milton says, 'Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth, Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep;' if she were permitted to speak to us, she would perhaps say, Weep not for me, but for yourselves. You are encompassed with temptations and difficulties; but I have surmounted them all. You are in a world of much error and darkness; but I am perfect in knowledge. I see things in a divine light; you are running the Christian race. I have gained the victory, and have received the prize. You are travelling through the vale of tears; but I am refreshing myself in the gardens of pleasure, and I walk on the hills of everlasting gladness.' In her dying moments she said: 'It is you, who survive me, who are to be pitied.' "But, papa, do you not very much miss dear mamma?" said Edwin. "Oh yes, my dear boy. Every object around me, recalls her to my recollection. How often has she accompanied us in our daily walks, and admired the grandeur and the beauty of the works of God. Don't you recollect, Edwin, how often she put down her basket of field flowers, which she had gathered for examination at home, and caressed and played with you, on this very path?" "Oh, how I should like to see her again!" exclaimed Edwin. "The sight, my dear Edwin, would be very pleasing; yet we should ill requite her, "To constrain Her unbound spirit into bonds again;' yet, if we live and die as she did, we shall go to her, though she will not return again to us." "Shall we, indeed, papa?" said the dear little fellow, as the tears ran plentifully down his ruddy cheeks. Mr. H. felt that they had been drawn to a subject which was too much for their feelings; and he directed the attention of Edwin to another subject, till they arrived at home, and the evening was closed with supplication and thanksgiving. CHAP. II. As year after year revolved, Mr. H. endeavoured to implant the best principles in the heart of his infant charge. He taught him the elements of the Latin language, knowing that a very large proportion of our own tongue is derived from it. He especially inculcated in his daily |