feared self-deceit: temptations at one time to think themselves righteous, at others to distrust, would arise; and, though they strove to cast away such thoughts, the difficulties were greater far in that lonely solitude, with no other objects to direct their minds, than can be imagined by those who know at least that the fresh earth and the beauteous sky can attract their thoughts from themselves. Though they might rejoice and give thanks; though the soul was strengthened day by day, exertions and trials such as theirs must wear down this weak and frail body, and the pale and wasted form of the Lady Rhoda bore ample testimony to the waves and storms which had gone over her, and penetrated even to the depths of her soul. The Lady Mary had not ceased to urge through the attendant, that they might be permitted to enjoy the soft air of heaven, by walking on the parapet or in the grounds of the castle, and that a priest might be permitted to visit them; for she felt that the frame of Rhoda could not much longer endure the rigours of her captivity, and she feared that ere long her solitude would be even more complete than it now was, when this loved one should be removed from her. At first her entreaties met with no notice; no answer was brought to her supplications, and she feared to endeavour secretly to gain admission to the presence of the governor, for she dreaded lest he, far from pitying the weakness of her sex, and her utter helplessness, would use that weakness for his own purposes: but at length the sunk eye and daily diminishing strength of her loved sister, induced her to think that nothing could be too hard to try when there was even a remote chance of gaining help; she felt that though her life might be sacrificed in the attempt, it would be a joy to resign it for one so dear; and that without her in that lone solitude, there was nothing for her to desire; and she felt that there was an Arm round her which would protect her in the path of duty; and which she rightly thought would not permit those vicious men to gain power over her. We will not pause to detail how she gained admission to the presence of the fierce Manleon, surnamed the Bloody, who had the charge of the garrison of Cherbourg, or how unprotected and alone she was threatened and treated by him. The vices which composed his nature are better buried in the darkness which surrounds them; suffice it to say that the lady was separated from her sister for some time, had to endure insults and persecutions from one who, styling himself a knight, should have been her protector and defender; but still an Arm was around her which by means that would appear slight and ordinary to those who cannot trace His Providence in all the various concerns of life, defeated the designs of her enemy, and, by his sudden death at a time when she seemed almost abandoned, and, no hope of deliverance had saved her from what she dreaded more than death or the sword.

(To be continued.)

THE CHURCH-TOWER.

"Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth."-Col. iii, 2. Time-honour'd monitor who rear'st thine head

Above yon trees that skirt thy sable height,
Silently rising from the solemn dead

And guiding heavenwards our mortal sight
To realms of bliss and promis'd mansions bright,
Seen from afar thy summit, turret-crown'd,

Oft meets the eye, and brings thy lessons home
Replete with wisdom, simple, yet profound,
Inviting all to learn ere yet their course be done!

"

Whilst ever and anon from thee is heard
How surely and how swiftly steal away
The rapid hours, ne'er in their course deferr'd,
And yet "imputed as they pass away,'
To each completing now his little day;
Thyself, though centuries have seen thee stand
And mark'd thy front with venerable age,
A witness art of Time's unsparing hand,
While yet thou teachest us the lessons of the sage!

Thou ivy-mantled warder, wakeful, lone,
When all around is sunk in slumbers deep,
Still thou proclaimest more of time is gone,
And ceasest not for aye thy watch to keep,
Until thine ancient chimes in silence sleep ;-
To thee whene'er our distant gaze we turn,

Oh may our thoughts oft upward with thee soar,
And all thou teachest to our minds return
All that is broadly written on thy forehead hoar.

ON THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS.

How troublesome did the people's importunity seem to Jairus! That great man came to sue unto JESUS for his dying daughter, the throng of the multitude hindered him. Every man is most sensible of his own necessity. It is no straining courtesy in the challenge of our interest in CHRIST; there is no unmannerliness in our strife for the greatest share in His presence and benediction. The only child of this ruler lay a-dying, when he came to solicit CHRIST'S aid, and was dead while he solicited it. There was hope in her sickness, in her extremity there was fear, in her death despair, and impossibility, as they thought, of help: "Thy daugh ter is dead, trouble not the Master.” When we have to do with a mere finite power, this word were but just. He was a prophet no less than a king, that said, “While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me that the child may live? But now he is dead,

* Such is the motto on the sun-dial in the quadrangle of All Souls' College, Oxford.

wherefore should fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." But since thou hast to do with an Omnipotent agent, know, O thou faithless messenger, that death can be no bar to His power. How well would it have become thee to have said, "Thy daughter is dead; but who can tell whether thy GOD and SAVIOUR will be gracious to thee, that the child may revive? Cannot He, in Whose hands are the issues of death, bring her back again ?”

Here were more manners than faith, "Trouble not the Master." Infidelity is all for ease, and thinks every good work tedious. That which nature accounts troublesome, is pleasing and delightful to grace. Is it any pain for a hungry man to eat? O SAVIOUR, "it was Thy meat and drink to do Thy FATHER's will," and His will was, that Thou shouldst bear our griefs, and take away our sorrows. It cannot be Thy trouble which is our happiness, that we must still sue to Thee.

The messenger could not so whisper his ill news, but JESUS heard it. Jairus hears that he feared, and was now heartless with so sad tidings. He that resolved not to trouble the Master, meant to take so much more trouble to himself, and would now yield to a hopeless sorrow. He, Whose work it is to comfort the afflicted, rouseth up the dejected heart of that pensive father: "Fear not, believe only, and she shall be made whole." The word was not

more cheerful than difficult; "Fear not." Who can be insensible of so great an evil? Where death hath once seized, who can but doubt he will keep his hold? No less hard was it not to grieve for the loss of an only child, than not to fear the continuance of the cause of that grief.

In a perfect faith there is no fear: by how much more we fear by so much less we believe. Well are these two then coupled, "Fear not, believe only." O SAVIOUR, if Thou didst not command us somewhat beyond nature, it were no thanks to us to obey Thee. While the child was alive, to believe that it might recover, it was no hard task; but now that she was fully dead, to believe she should live again, was a work not easy for Jairus to apprehend, though easy for Thee to effect; yet must that be believed, else there is no capacity of so great a mystery. As love, so faith, is stronger than death, making these bonds no other than, as Samson did his withs, like threads of tow. How much natural impossibility is there in the return of these bodies from the dust of their earth, into which, through many degrees of corruption, they are at the last mouldered? Fear not, O my soul, believe only; it must, it shall be done.

The sum of Jairus's first suit was for the health, not for the restoration of his daughter: now that she was dead, he would, if he durst, have been glad to have asked her life. And now, behold our SAVIOUR bids him expect both her life and her health: "Thy

daughter shall be made whole:" alive from her death, whole from her disease.

Thou didst not, O Jairus, thou daredst not ask so much as thou receivedst. How glad wouldst thou have been, since this last news, to have had thy daughter alive, though weak and sickly! now thou shalt receive her, not living only, but sound and vigorous. Thou dost not, O SAVIOUR, measure Thy gifts by our petitions, but by our wants and Thine own mercies.

This work might have been as easily done by an absent command: the power of CHRIST was there while Himself was away : but He will go personally to the place, that He might be confessed the Author of so great a miracle. O SAVIOUR, Thou lovest to go to the house of mourning; Thy chief pleasure is the comfort of the afflicted. What a confusion there is in worldly sorrow! The mother shrieks, the servants cry out, the people make lamentation, the minstrels howl and strike dolefully, so as the ear might question whether the ditty or the instrument were more heavy. If ever expressions of sorrow sound well, it is when death leads the quire. Soon doth our SAVIOUR charm this noise, and turn these unseasonable mourners, whether formal or serious, out of doors: not that He dislikes music, whether to condole or comfort; but that He had life in His eye, and would have them know, that He held these funeral ceremonies to be too early and long before their time. "Give place, for the maid is not dead, but sleepeth." Had she been dead, she had but slept; now she was not dead, but asleep, because he meant this nap of death should be so short, and her awakening so speedy. Death and sleep are alike to Him, Who can cast whom He will into the sleep of death, and awake when and whom He pleaseth out of that deadly sleep.

Before, the people and domestics of Jairus held JESUS for a prophet; now they took Him for a dreamer. "Not dead but asleep!" They that came to mourn cannot now forbear to laugh. Have we piped at so many funerals, and seen and lamented so many corpses, and cannot we distinguish between sleep and death? the eyes are set, the breath is gone, the limbs are stiff and cold. Who ever died, if she do but sleep? How easily may our reason or sense befool us in divine matters! Those that are competent judges, in natural things, are ready to laugh GOD to scorn when He speaks beyond their compass, and are by Him justly laughed to scorn for their unbelief. Vain and faithless men! As if that unlimited power of the ALMIGHTY Could not make good His own Word, and turn either sleep into death, or death into sleep at pleasure. Ere many minutes, they shall be ashamed of their errors and incredulity.

There were witnesses enough of her death, there shall not be many of her restoring. Three choice disciples, and the two parents, are only admitted to the view and testimony of this mira

culous work. The eyes of those incredulous scoffers were not worthy of this honour. Our infidelity makes us incapable of the secret favours and the highest counsels of the ALMIGHTY.

What did these scorners think and say, when they saw Him putting the minstrels and people out of doors? "Doubtless the maid is but asleep; the man fears lest the noise shall awake her; we must speak and tread softly, that we disquiet her not: what will He and His Disciples do the while? Is it not to be feared, they will startle her out of her rest?" Those that are shut out from the participation of GoD's counsels, think all His words and projects no better than foolishness. But art Thou, O SAVIOUR, ever the more discouraged by the derision and censure of these scornful unbelievers? Because fools jeer Thee, dost Thou forbear Thy work? Surely I do not perceive that Thou heedest them, save for contempt; or carest more for their words than their silence. It is enough that Thine act shall soon honour Thee, and convince them. "He took her by the hand, and called, saying, Maid, arise; and her spirit came again, and she arose straightway." How could that touch, that call, be other than effectual?

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He, Who made that hand, touched it; and He, Who shall once say, "Arise ye dead," said now, Maid, arise." Death cannot but obey Him Who is the LORD of Life. The soul is ever equally in His hand Who is the GOD of spirits; it cannot but go and come at His command. When He says, Maid, arise," the now dissolved spirit knows his office, his place, and instantly re-assumes that room which, by His appointment, it had left.

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O SAVIOUR, if Thou do but bid my soul to arise from the death of sin, it cannot lie still; if Thou bid my body to arise from the grave, my soul cannot but glance down from her heaven, and animate it. In vain shall my sin, or my grave, offer to withhold me from Thee.

The maid revives, not now to languish for a while upon her sickbed, and by some faint degrees to gather an insensible strength; but at once she rises from her death, and from her couch; at once she puts off her fever with her dissolution; she finds her life and her feet at once; at once she finds her feet and her stomach. "He commandeth to give her meat." Omnipotency doth not use to go the pace of nature. All God's immediate works are, like Himself, perfect. He that raised her supernaturally, could have so fed her. It was never the purpose of His power to put ordinary means out of office.-Bishop Hull.

We believe that this body of ours in which we live, though after death it turns to dust, yet in the last day it shall return to life again, by the Spirit of CHRIST that dwelleth in us; and that then, whatever we suffer for

CHRIST in the interim, He will wipe away all tears from our eyes, and that then, through Him, we shall enjoy everlasting life, and be always with Him.-Jewell's Apology.