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which from early childhood most of us have taken notice. For me it bears a charm in it, composed of such varied ingredients that I hardly know how to define it. I never cast my eye upon the Wall-flower, but a long chain of indistinct recollections and half-formed associations seems to awaken, or, more properly speaking, to lull me into a sort of dream, understood by those, and perhaps those alone, whose early haunts have been among the crumbling relics of remote national anti

dearly loved, compared with that afforded by the inspired apostle, who bids us "comfort one another with these words." And what words are they? That they who sleep in Jesus shall the Lord bring with him, when he descends from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God-that all his people, caught up together in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, shall be FOR EVER with the Lord. It is the sure and certain hope of that eternal re-union that makes each succeeding meditation on de-quity, and their chosen contemplation the parted servants of Christ more delightful stirring events of England's former days. than the preceding: because another portion Of all the vegetable world I have found of time has elapsed since last we thought this common flower my pleasantest comon them, and by so much is eternity the panion in such scenes; and the readiest to nearer. Oh, the blessedness of making unlock those stores of fancy which, alour own calling and election sure! What though in my estimation they have yielded are the dearest forms of earth but a crop to more important things, will yet, suborof smiling daisies, about to fall before the dinately but sweetly, harmonize with mower's scythe? It is true that as "friend holier themes. I am not, I never was, and after friend departs," the Lord, in compas- devoutly hope that I never shall be, one sion to human infirmity, gives us others, to of those who decry as narrow-minded or gladden by their love and sympathy the illiberal the burning glow of patriotic feelotherwise desolate path; but cold and for- ing; or who would own no national pregetful is the heart that clings not to indi- ference in spiritual things. Foreign lanvidual recollections, hovering over each guages, manners and fashions have solitary grave, and realizing David's sor- greatly tended to deteriorate the good old row, "He shall not return to me." No, English spirit that once prevailed among the beloved form shall never more appear us; and, as for our twin-sister, poor Ireon earth; the endeared features shall not land, we are compelled to give heed to her again smile affection on us, or the well-present claims, and to turn an anxious eye remembered voice utter tones of encour-to her disordered shores, because we have agement. "But I shall go to him, rejoins faith, and sorrow is turned into holy joy. Those who are with Christ-surely it is sweet to go to them, and to join in their song of praise. Surely we may well bide the pelting of a few storms on earth, though our way may be lonely, and our path dark, in the assured prospect of a rest where neither storm, nor darkness, nor sorrow can enter: where the former things shall have passed away, and all be created new ; gloriously new, and everlastingly glorious.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE WALL-FLOWER.

AMONG the hardy flowers that scarcely need more than a passing gleam of watery sunshine to tempt them forth, is one of

given our ancient enemy such a vantage ground there as to keep us in a state of restless observation, surveying their manoeuvres; but of her old chronicles, the thrilling tales connected with her stately castles, her decaying fortresses and mysterious towers, we are still deplorably ignorant. Whence comes this deadened feeling in what regards our island domain? I know not; I only know that my nationality is very strong, and that I rarely meet with any one who seems thoroughly to sympathize in it; who will grasp as a treasure an old coin, however defaced by the handling of many succeeding generations, which bears the stamp of England, or Ireland, or of Scotland, and find a volume within its narrow compass; or who will pace like me the site of some ancient palace or dilapidated hall, touched by emotions that the mighty ruins of Rome herself could not call forth.

But I am rarely alone in imagination, | ciple of patriotic feeling. It glowed withwhich at such times is all but a reality; in her own breast with an ardour that nei

ther age could chill nor the indifference of others discourage. I love to recall the hours when, having perhaps brought from my father's extensive garden a sprig of the Wall-flower-I knew it was her favourite shrub-to replenish the little jar of sweets that she loved to arrange, I leaned my elbows on her knee, and caught from her lips the clear and animated chaunt with which she gave forth the famous ballad of Chevy Chase. There was a lovely one beside me-never were he and I found apart; and we together joined our little voices to that of our delighted instructress; whose colour, always high, would be ruddier, her uncommonly bright hazle eyes assuming an additional sparkle, and her neck rising more perpendicularly from the old-fashioned bodice that supported it, when she took up the stanza,

for I generally find the wall-flower there, striking its tenacious root into any narrow crevice, and waving its streaked flag above the ruins. There is particularly in the single, wild sort, a character so bold and free, so lively and determined, that, combined with the delight it seems to take in breathing perfume round the old forsaken ruin, whose grey brow it decorates with a wreath of green and gold, the flower alone would suffice for a companion, seeming to say, as it meets my look, "Let who will pass them by, we love the wrecks of our dear country's olden time: let who may forget, we cherish the remembrance of our gallant struggles, her mighty deliverances, and all that her God hath done in her for his own glory, and for her preparation as a chosen lamp to shed the light of truth over a darkened world." There was a time when the chivalry of England alone engrossed my thoughts: her magnificence at home, and her puissance abroad: her charter, grasped by mailed hands at Runnymede, her bannered lion, borne upon the plain of Cressy or of Agincourt; the outgoings of her naval armaments, to prepare the way for planting her forests of commer-kin with not a few of England's gallant cial masts in every distant port: and even her domestic wars, her castles stormed by kindred hands, when the wild clamour of feudal strife was heard amid her shires, and the private bickerings of rival barons could be stilled but in the death-cries of their faithful serfs.

And all this is well remembered yet: but all appears one mighty march, by slow, and painful, and circuitous steps, towards the summit of her true glory: all wrought, though the actors knew it not, nor desired, nor dreamed it—all wrought to make her what she still is, PROTESTANT -the land of the Bible.

But has the Wall-flower no individual reference like any other sweet companion of the garden? Indeed it has: intimately it is connected with the remembrance of one who has long lain entombed beneath the towering walls of as stately, as superb, and interesting a relic of our early architecture, as could well be found in England. She it was who certainly instilled into my infant mind the first prin

The first that did him answer make,

Was noble Percy, he,
Who said, "We list not to declare,

Nor show whose men we be."

In fact the dear old lady prided herself not a little on a direct descent by the female side, from that redoubtable earl: while collaterally she could claim kith and

'squires; and dwelling in a cottage, contented with the simplest fare, utterly indifferent to all that others deemed so tempting of this world's pomp and pleasure, she rejoiced in her pedigree, and did her best to infuse her genuine patriotism into the second generation of her children, as successfully as in some instances she had done into the first.

But this was not all: there was more which then I understood not, nor could any around me have done so. She had a dearer feeling than her patriotism; a richer treasure than her pedigree. Seldom, if ever, did I visit her little abode without finding her engrossed with a study that seemed the abiding joy of her heart. An old Bible was constantly on her lap; and many things she said to us concerning its blessed truths, of which I do not retain one distinct recollection; but I know that some of the most sublime, awakening and deeply spiritual passages of God's book were first pointed out to me by her aged finger, enforced by a re

mark which was little heeded by us, for we wanted what we thought better amusement. For some years before childhood was passed, the place of our abode was changed, and we could rarely see her, as the distance was several miles: but again we were brought within a nearer proximity; and at times I felt a growing interest in the theme which I now am sure was nearest to her heart. But I did not freely express this; and she, accustomed to be perfectly alone, if not openly opposed in these matters, was timid in bringing them forward. It was not long ere her grave was dug within the noble quadrangle of the cathedral where she loved to worship: and so in death, as in her life, is the remembrance of this venerable relative interwoven with those thoughts wherein the wild sweet wallflower seems so fully to sympathize that it is part and parcel of the whole.

Often have I considered the touching case of those aged pilgrims who towards the close of a long day, first perceive a beam of light on their weary road. It does happen often that the eyes of all belonging to such a one being yet sealed in impenetrable darkness, the avowals made as to that gladdening beam are received with derision, or at best, with a pitying incredulity that tends painfully to repel the overflowings of a joyful heart, and to close the lip of praise so far as man is concerned. But more frequently, in our day of very flourishing head-knowledge, it is the lot of the simple trusting soul that has just learned to lay hold on eternal life by faith in Christ Jesus, to be perplexed and harassed, and cast down by the high assumption of some who are ready, if not to despise the day of small things, at least to add a great deal to the plain and sweet assurance, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." It is often required of those who are resting on this word, and rejoicing in a hope that maketh not ashamed, that they should receive a certain set of doctrines, and attain to a certain degree of what is considered maturity in faith, before they are allowed to feel themselves in the haven of spiritual rest. I have often grieved, bitterly grieved, to witness this idle, and I will say unscriptural teasing of the minds and consciences of others: but never so much as when the

party thus held at bay is an aged tra veller, whose shadow is fast lengthening and whose trembling limbs demand a strong prop, as they approach the preci pice. My dearest study, my most de lightful and invigorating exercise, (afte communion with God in his word, and by prayer,) has been among the records of our English confessors and martyrs; and although I find, here and there, a divine who had searched into the deep mysteries of God, yet I recognize, in by far the greater number of his glorified ones, the most simple, single reliance on God as a Father, on Christ as a Redeemer, and on the Holy Spirit as a Teacher and Comforter, without an attempt to proceed farther than this, and the great test of a renewed heart-holiness of life. We are now splitting daily into new parties; each one hath a doctrine, hath an interpretation; and makes his own notions the standard of his neighbour's faith. It was not so, when the militant church had external, visible foes to contend with: these are intestine commotions, arising from too much ease and fulness of bread, and a superabundance of spiritual pride. I withdraw from them in pain and disgust; and with the little sprightly Wall-flower unfolding its blossoms in the garden beside me, I follow in thought the course of its manyfeatured family, until my mind rests on the inhabitant of some deserted ruin, garnishing the wall where tapestry once spread its gorgeous surface; breathing its fragrance silently, where music often filled the now roofless space, and costly perfume loaded the confined air; but where perhaps some heart beat high in holy resolve to brave the loudest of Rome's thunder, and the fiercest of her murderous fires, strong in the faith that is in Christ Jesus; knowing, and desiring to know only Him, and Him crucified and leaving all the subtle points of disputation to others.

There is one thing that Satan especially hates: he hates to see us working, when we have ceased from attaching the slightest meritorious value to what we do. He raises a shout of legality, and tries to frighten us into the shades of inert contemplation. He cannot hinder the Lord from lighting our candle, but he often contrives to clap a bushel over it, woven, perchance, of scripture-texts, which were

given for a very different purpose. Oh that we were less ignorant of his devices; more guarded when he transforms himself into an angel of light!

I am not wandering from the Wallflower and its associations: I am thinking of some who could have warned, have taught, have strengthened me, by the word of timely exhortation, had they not been too selfishly wrapped up in individual enjoyment of that which God never gave to be enjoyed alone. Many a stroke of the rod might then have been spared, which fell most heavily upon the uninstructed wanderer: and the case is by no means a singular one. I do not here cast a reproach on that venerable individual who lives in a warm though somewhat dusky recess of my heart: she, I know, did what she could; and she had her own cross to bear as a poor hungry sheep, who looked up, and was not fed by man's hand. Egypt was not darker during its days of supernatural visitation, than was the place of her abode in a spiritual sense. She had the beautiful, the rich, and the divinely-scriptural liturgy of our church, and dearly did she love it: she had the abundant portions of God's word contained in its daily services, and devoutly did she listen to them under the vaulted roof of that noble pile: but from its pulpit, though supplied by a constant variety of teachers, she heard not the glad tidings of salvation by the blood of Christ. No social meeting for prayer and mutual edification supplied the lack of public preaching: no kindred spirit was found, as I think, to cheer her quiet home with the voice of individual faith and love: but she had her Bible, she read it, she loved it, she prayed over it: and lonely mariner as she was on a wide and perplexing sea, that chart was her guide to the blessed haven of eternal life. I doubt not this.

my affections on the tints of the gathered flower, now fading and shrivelling in my hand, as on any thing that draws mortal breath. A scythe, invisible to us, is moving in its appointed circuit, and we know not how many of our own choicest blossoms lie within that doomed space. It is never idle; day and night, summer and winter, on the snows of Lapland, and beneath the burning zone-in the glittering court, amid the festive party, through the low and peaceful cottage, and over the wide waves of the mighty main-it moves, it ever moves, slaying its ten thousands as it goes. I have seen, not its movement, for that is visible only to God-but its effects. I have seen the flowers that best I loved, that adorned my own little spot of home, in the morning green and growing up, and in the evening cut down, dried up, and withered. Yea, in a literal morning and evening; while, far and near, among kinsfolks, friends and acquaintance, the living are out-numbered by the dead.

It is an awful contemplation; and the voice that comes from a multitude of swelling mounds is not to be disregarded. It speaks of what remains above earth's surface, and cries "Vanity of vanities: all is vanity." It utters the word of admonition, "What is your life? is it not a vapour that passeth away?" It tells of hope and triumph to the believer, "That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die—this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality-O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" It pleads for the living, to whom this hope is yet unknown: "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might: for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest."

Surely the Wall-flower that overtops the crumbling ruin of what was once It is very affecting to behold the gener-magnificent in beauty, and all but impregations of mankind ripened, then decaying, and silently dropping away into an unseen world. There are very many of whom I can say

How are they blotted from the things that be!
How few, all weak and withered in their force,
Wait on the verge of dark eternity,

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse,
To sweep them from our sight.

It is a dying world: a world of such incessant change, that as well might I set 38

VOL. II.

nable in strength, may sweetly typify the assured hope of glory, fixing its roots in the very corruption of that which it adorns, and blooming there because all else has ceased to shine. Natural strength has departed, original beauty is for ever gone: but the wind blowing where it listed has wafted a seed to the spot, and God has nourished it with many a soft and silent fall of dew. It succeeds all other glories,

and surpasses them all; for the former things which have passed away were man's poor workmanship, and were dead in the season of their loftiest pride; whereas the lovely vistant that has occupied their place, has an excellence never known to them-it lives-it grows; for it was planted by the Lord.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE WHITE CLOVER.

"THE voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the godliness thereof is as a flower of the field: the grass withereth, the flower fadeth because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth but the word of our God shall stand for ever."

under his forming hand, a time when earth with all that it contained, lay basking in the smile of its Almighty King, or moved in undeviating obedience to his divine will. And when on a bright spring morning in freshness of health and buoyancy of spirit, I walked abroad, warmed by the chastened beam, fanned by the light and fragrant breeze, while the little wild flower laughs from among the meadow grass, the yellow butterfly sports before me, the bee pursues her cheerful way, and birds rejoicing flutter through the branches that extend once more their screen of delicate foliage. I cannot quite realize the awful truth that man is a rebel, and the earth a blighted thing: that, spite of this hour's enchantment, the whole creation groans and travails in pain together; and that if even my bodily sight could penetrate to the distance of a few short miles around, I should behold such scenes of crime, of sorrow, and of death, as would divest of all its charms the narrow circuit of my present contemplation: and compel me to exclaim under the fullest impression of its humiliation, defilement, and fragility, "Surely the people is grass!"

No language but that of inspiration can suitably express the swelling emotion of the heart when a poor child of dust looks round on the scene of death's hourly de- There is a class of good persons who vastations, and feels that the scythe has too readily condemn what God has in no just cropped away some one of his most instance denounced. They not only discherished blossoms. There is but One of approve the expression of admiration and whom it can be fully said, He knows what delight, in surveying the perishable but is in man: we are riddles to each other, still most lovely and glorious wreck of and paradoxes to ourselves. That which what was once so perfect and so goodwas created for eternity, became in its they censure the indulgence of warm atmost perceptible part, mortal: that which tachment to the fellow-pilgrims who are was formed light, now invaded by gross passing like us through the clouded and darkness, that which was made a dwelling polluted scene, to the rest which remainof love and peace, now transformed into a eth for the people of God. Ardent love battle-field of perpetual hatred and strife for our friends is not unfrequently stigma-may well be a source of perplexity to tized as idolatry: and the chill of an units own clouded and bewildered faculties just rebuke is thrown heavily on a warm in any state. The more so, perhaps, when heart, beating with the impulse of sanctithe day-spring from on high breaks in fied affection. Against such benumbing again to scatter the resisting darkness: influences, I always did, and always will, when the dove of peace once more spreads in thought, word, and deed, maintain an her brooding wing over the scene of con- uncompromising protest, confirmed by flict, and partially hushes the storm: when scriptural precept and example. I know the gate of a blessed immortality is thrown I am not to set my affections on things on wide in the distance, and the spirit enabled the earth, that is, on the perishing things to gaze upon its home struggles, and of time, which are destined to vanish gradually prevails over the fleshy impulse away: but I am yet to learn that a child that cannot but cling to earth. There of God, whose soul is sealed with the was a time when body and spirit together promise of eternal life whose body is served God, rejoicing in their happy union, made the temple of the living God now, and

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