conspicuous than in the rejection of proffered counsel, an aptness and a desire to impart which, nature has, for the wisest ends, so abundantly bestowed upon the old. But, I suppose, while folly is bound in the heart of a child, this will always be the case. There is great aptness in a frequent saying of yours on this subject, which, perhaps, you remember."

"No, I don't. The fact is, I have so many odd sayings, that I sometimes forget them." "It is something to this effect:-' that experience is a very dear school; but that fools will learn in no other.' Do you remember it now?"

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Ha, ha! Yes, I do, is it not very strange, now, that things of this sort should so soon be forgotten? If you had not told me that it was mine, I should have never known it; though I scarcely think others would have mistaken it for mine. It is not likely others would have misfathered it; though one's self, when getting old, like Isaac, often fails to see with clearness, and, consequently, becomes doubtful of his own offspring. I am glad, however, that you remember it; and I sincerely hope, my dear boy, you will profit by it. I have given you as

much as I possibly could of my own poor experience on almost every subject, and I feel somewhat confident as to the issue; for I do not think you are in the habit of letting things pass unimproved. I hope to descend to the grave in peace, leaving my dear child under the protection of one in whom I have the most entire confidence."

"I am sure," rejoined Maclandreth, “ I feel greatly flattered by such a compliment, and especially as it comes from one so shrewd and sagacious as yourself, though I know that I little deserve it.. According to the best of my abilities, however, your most sanguine expectations will not be unrealized. Nothing could exceed the joy that would thrill this heart, were it to feel conscious of its becoming more and more worthy of dear Alison. The integrity of my intention none, it appears to me, can rationally question. That she is indispensable to my happiness, my heart hast not failed, once and again, to tell me. Indeed the more near the period to leave her comes, the nearer she goes to my heart. My attachment to yourself, also, instead of diminishing,

is vastly augmented. I now feel the truth of what you have often told me, that we know not the real value of our friends till we lose them."

"Yes, my young friend, I never knew the value of my dear wife till she was gone beyond my reach. Her untold worth becomes more conspicuous every day. The few defects, of which I thought her possessed, while sojourning with me in this world, are quite eclipsed by her shining virtues. It seems the office of death to take our friends from us, only with respect to what is mortal of them, while what is spiritual and pure, it gives over exclusively to our affection. Thus our gracious Lord, in all his dealings towards us, always leaves a blessing behind Him. The moment our friends die, all their frailties at once sink into the shade of forgetfulness, while all that is noble and pure stand forth shining with increasing lustre, and like the pillar that led Israel through the wilderness, alluring us on in the path of virtue and holiness, in which they trod. I thought, when my dear wife was alive, that I was doing all that was requisite to

make her happy. But, alas! I now see so many things wherein I was far too negligent. So it is with life in general; we never realise our mission in this world till we are quitting it. It is, when too late to repent, that most men begin to think seriously of its necessity, like the Egyptians, who never thought of pausing, to consider what they were about, till the waters of the red sea brought their folly before their eyes, when too late to seek for wisdom."

"What! so late ?" said Mr. Acehambur, as he heard the clock strike. "Well, my boy, we must to bed now, or we cannot be stirring at our usual hour in the morning. Good night, God bless you."

"And you, too, and may your repose be sweet," rejoined Maclandreth.

CHAPTER XI

"I'm alone already!

Methinks I stand upon a naked beach,
Sighing to winds and to the seas complaining;
Whilst afar off the vessel sails away,

Where all the treasure of my soul's embarked.

"Wilt thou not turn? O, could those eyes but speak!
I should know all, for love is pregnant in them;
They swell, they press their beams upon me still;
Wilt thou not speak? If we must part for ever,

Give me but one kind word to think upon,

And please myself with, while my heart is breaking."

THE ORPHAN.

THE first streak of the east, the herald of the much-dreaded day, found the two lovers eagerly watching with palpitating hearts what each feared to encounter and yet burned to enjoy— each other's society. Nothing could exceed the confusion and awkwardness with which everything was managed that morning. Poor Alison was quite ashamed of herself and yet could not help being any one but herself. That she was not her former self was evident to every one; nor was she herself, as far as she was herself unconscious of it. The old