their own provincial dialect, which was totally inexplicable to us—at length the woman disappeared, having removed the last dish, but the young man lingered about the room, and when the door was shut he came close to me, and addressing me in a low voice, "Sir," he said, "you are a Protestant, will you tell me where the Protestant religion differs from ours?" We were startled at the question, which though easily asked, would have required a twelvemonth, if taken point by point to have answered with any clearness-I however took up a Bible in my hand, and shewing him what it was, Ι informed him that we as Protestants professed to accept all that was found in Scripture as articles of faith, and to reject all that was added thereunto by the word of man. This was

a simple statement which he instantly comprehended, but one particular point seemed to perplex him. "You do not, sir," he said, "as Protestants, acknowledge and do honor to Mary as the mother of God."

We asked him if he allowed that God had been through all eternity to this he assented, and we then proceeded to point out to him, that Mary was not the mother of Christ as God, but of Christ as man-hence that the term "mother of God" was blasphemous. This difficulty being removed, he opened himself farther, and acknowledged himself to be in deed and truth a Protestant, confessing that such was the laxity of all about him, that the state of his feelings as it regarded religion was never examined either by his master and mistress or fellowservants. We were astonished at many things which he said, which argued a degree of knowledge far exceeding that of a Papist, and put the question to him, "where and how did you obtain this knowledge?" He then informed us, that " a few years before, an English lady, passing through Aix, and remaining a Sunday at that inn, had given him a New Testament, which Testament,” he added, “he had read every night since that period," and to all appearance the sacred volume had done its work, according to the promise, "Thy word shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and prosper in the things whereunto I sent it."-Isaiah xv. 11.

The young man was a humble Christian, he was a babe in Christ, thirsting for still more of that precious milk of the

gospel, of which he had already tasted the inexpressible sweetness. We could not learn the name of the lady who had thus benefited the young man, but should this communication fall into her hands, it may be sweet to her to find again, after many days, the bread which she was the means of casting into the water.

The poor young man had never seen an Old Testament, which my young people understanding, went out into the streets, and bought the only Bible which could be met with in the town: it was an old one, and a bad translation, but the tears with which the poor young man received it, left so sweet an impression on our minds, that we set down our Sunday at Aix as the happiest, on the whole, which we had till then enjoyed on the continent. M. M. S.

ROSE MALCOLM.

A SKETCH.

"PRAY who is that pensive looking girl who is with Mrs. Williams,” asked a lady among a small party who were enjoying the beautiful twilight of a summer's evening, "she appears amiable, and is certainly beautiful."

"She is the orphan relative of Mrs. Williams," said Miss Arnford, to whom the question was addressed, "her father died lately in reduced circumstances; she has one brother who is at sea, and besides him, Mrs. Williams is the only relation, or nearly so, that she possesses. I spent a short time in her society last week, and was much pleased with her; there appeared great sweetness of disposition, but she was evidently unhappy-her name is Malcolm,"

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"I don't wonder at her being unhappy," exclaimed a young lady, "I am sure any one would be so, living with Mrs. Williams, oh, she is a disagreeable woman! so cold, so heartless and formal, and then those tiresome children of her's, I dare say poor Miss Malcolm has to teach them, and for my part, I would sooner cook the dinner."

"You are unchanged, Ellen, I perceive,” said Miss Arnford, smiling, "why will you be so inveterate ?"

"Well, dear Miss Arnford, forgive me now, recollect I am

going away to-morrow, and shall not have the pleasure of expatiating on Mrs. Williams's good qualities for a long time to come." As Ellen uttered these words, the party separated; Miss Arnford to muse, as she walked home, on the apparently desolate fate of Rose Malcolm, for she could not hide from herself, that her friend's strictures on Mrs. Williams were but too true.

Miss Arnford was the daughter of the rector of the village, where the scene of my sketch is laid, she was past the prime of youth, of mild and unassuming manners, and much beloved. She was a sincere and earnest follower of Him, whose religion her father taught; her life was a happy one, for it was a life of usefulness; her mind was agitated by no cares, for she trusted in Him who has promised never to "leave or forsake,” and devoting herself to religion, its duties, its pleasures, and its hopes, formed the aim of her existence; and the society of a beloved father, and a few dear friends, left her nothing to wish for.

Miss Arnford's pity had been strongly called forth by the contemplation of Miss Malcolm's situation; she saw the poor girl had no earthly comforter, and she was unable to tell, in the few short interviews she had passed with her, if a heavenly one had been made manifest: she, however, determined to use every endeavor to ameliorate her condition, and that the stranger should not want a friend, if she would allow her to fill the place.

Several weeks passed on, and Miss Arnford had made considerable progress in her acquaintance with Rose; she had urged her to come and amuse herself with the harp, as soon as she found Rose understood it; and by various little attentions, soon won upon the sensitive heart of the orphan girl. She learned all Rose's troubles and cares-she wept with her when her tears flowed for the loss of her parents, for whom she still wore mourning; she soothed her apprehensions, respecting the fate of her brother, from whom she had not heard for more than a year-she urged her to come to the rectory whenever she felt the least wish, and withal mingled the christian sentiments and feelings, with which her own heart was filled, though she feared that of Rose was almost a stranger to them.

One beautiful evening Rose had accompanied Miss Arnford to the summit of the hill, from whence was obtained a splendid view of the ocean and its intervening shore; it was sunset, the waters lay calm as a sleeping babe, the fishermen had drawn their boats upon the beach, and were gone to their evening meal, the hills lay, some shaded in the grey twilight, others retaining a few farewell rays from the sun, that had just sunk beneath the wave, and the beautiful evening star rose in a serene and cloudless sky: it was an hour that spoke to the heart. "Beautiful!" exclaimed Rose, as she gazed on the fair scene before her, "This is beautiful indeed; look, Miss Arnford, at that lovely sky, there are still some tinges of gold on the edge of those violet clouds that the sun has left, I think I should never tire of looking at such a display."

"It is indeed lovely," replied Miss Arnford, "it proclaims its Maker's goodness in presenting such a scene to our eyes. It is God's own work, and but another instance of his numerous blessings to guilty man."

"Ah! you never suffer your thoughts to wander from Him," said Rose, "I thought but of nature in this lovely landscape, you remembered the Maker and Giver of it. Why," continued Rose, after a pause, "why do not I, why does not every one feel as you do, Miss Arnford? Why do not I see God in His works?"

"The natural heart of man, dear Rose, cannot it 'loves not God, nor the things of God.''

“The natural heart! indeed, Miss Arnford, I do not"-she hesitated.

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"You do not understand me," said Miss Arnford, smiling, nor did I expect you to do so; now, it is growing late, too late to remain talking here, but the next time we meet, if you feel inclined, we will converse a little on this subject." So saying, they retraced their steps, and Rose soon sunk into anxious musings on a subject never long absent from her thoughts, and which the sight of the ocean never failed to call more vividly to her recollection.

A few days after this conversation, as Rose was sitting at work with Miss Arnford, she said, "Do you remember, Miss Arnford, what you said respecting the heart, the natural heart I

think you called it, on the evening we went to Hilton Craig. You promised to explain what you said at that time, will you do so now ?"

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“ Willingly, dear Rose, but will you first answer a question of mine, and tell me, 'What is that religion, the christian religion, of which we profess to be members.'

"Our religion," said Rose, "is taken from the Bible, which we believe to be the written law of God, Christ descended from heaven to teach, and found it; He was persecuted by the Jews, and put to a cruel death. That is what we believe, is it not, Miss Arnford ?"

"That will do for generalities, now tell me, Rose, your own personal share in this religion, your own definition of a follower of it—what do you believe?”

"I believe," said Rose," in one great God, who made this world, and the creatures with which it is peopled. I believe Him to be a great and good God, merciful to his weak creatures, whose frailty he knows; I believe he will accept our sincere though imperfect obedience, and that He will mercifully receive us into his kingdom when we die, if we have endeavored to serve Him here."

"And where is Christ, whom you mentioned as the founder of this religion ?" said Miss Arnford.

"He died, you know," replied Rose," after having taught His religion to His disciples, and it is for the sake of His death, that if we live as good a life as our frail natures will permit, God will take us to Heaven."

Rose paused, and Miss Arnford was silent also, for a few minutes; she then said, "Now, Rose, I will tell you my belief, and then, perhaps, we shall come to the explanation you desire. I believe," said she, in a serious voice, "I believe like you, in one God, one Omniscient, Omnipresent, Eternal, and Holy God-I believe that God created all things, and that He created man perfect in His own moral image-I believe that man himself lost that perfection, wilfully lost it by disobedience, and that sin, thus brought into the world, is born with every human being-I believe the heart to be corrupted, incapable, of itself, of one good thought-I believe man to have been lost, eternally lost, but for the Christ, the Saviour