The funeral of one of earth's admired children.

filled to overflowing. Scarfs, and sable weeds, and all the external insignia of mourning, were there. A long train of carriages, reaching for more than a half of a mile, were in waiting to follow the senseless clay to its low and long resting place in the cemetery. She, for whom all this parade was making, had gone to eternity without leaving the slightest evidence that her peace was made with God. She was the indulged child of wealthy parents. Every expense had been lavished upon her education; and she had just now entered upon life, young, beautiful, and accomplished. She had just began to figure amid the brilliant circles of fashion, and all the infatuation of a mind intoxicated with the first visions of earthly pleasure was upon her, when suddenly the hand of God touched her young and apparently vigorous frame with deadly and blighting disease. She lived only a few days. And though, from the beginning, the physician warned the parents that this sickness would terminate fatally, no minister of the cross was permitted to visit that sick room; for in their tenderness for their child, those parents could not endure the thought of her being alarmed with the idea that she was going to die. Thus in their blindness, acting as they thought very tenderly, the awful secret was kept from her to the last. She knew not her danger, till she actually made the final, irrecoverable plunge into the eternal world. While I saw all this vain pageant at her funeral, got up to soothe the feelings and gratify the pride of the living, I could not but ask myself, "With what emotions must this departed one, who, in all probability, has gone into eternity impenitent and unpardoned-with what emotions must her lost spirit look out upon all this parade made over her poor, perishing body?"

But when we saw Ann's remains borne to the grave, other feelings arose in our minds. Then we could not but think, as we saw the little procession moving on, That there is one "who sleeps in Jesus, whom God will bring with him"-there is one who will be owned "when Christ

The best wish for our children.

shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them that believe." And the thought of my heart then was, I will never seek great things for my children. I will cherish no anxieties to see them rich, and honoured, and elevated to the high places of earth; but all that I will ask will be, to see them the subdued and regenerated children of God; to see them set in heavenly places in Christ Jesus, fitted for humble usefulness, and numbered with the saints in glory everlasting.

THE

MEETING OF THE TRAVELLERS.

CHAPTER I.

A JOURNEY.

"What a goodly prospect spreads around,

Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires,
And glittering towns, and gilded streams."

THOMSON.

EVERY situation in which we are placed, and every scene through which we pass, furnishes us with new opportunities of studying the ways and wisdom of GOD. The great Author of our being has so framed the natural world, and so regulates its concerns, that all the objects and events which fall within the circle of our knowledge, bear impressed upon them many useful lessons of moral in

struction.

The traveller, through whatever region he passes, will be able to learn, every day, something that is valuable. Unquestionably he should have a definite object for which he leaves his home, and makes his sojourn among strangers. Whether that object be business, or health, or the acquisition of knowledge, he will find in the pursuit of it much to instruct and interest him in the diversified scenes

through which he passes. To acquire valuable ideas and stores of useful knowledge, it is not necessary that one

The opportunities of improvement on a journey.

should spend his evenings amid the circles of the learned, or his days among the dusty and ponderous tomes of ancient lore. In the stage-coach, or at the public inn, the traveller, while he sits taciturn and unknown, can often witness a development of human nature which he would have in vain sought in the circle of his own neighbourhood, and which may prove a valuable acquisition to his stock of knowledge.

Even he who travels without companions may find, in the mute and inanimate objects around him, much to occupy and interest his thoughts. His course for a while may be over rough roads and rugged mountains. He may have to make his way through the mire and gloom of the deep valley, while the heavens above are dark with clouds, which hang, like sable drapery, around the gathering tempest. But as he proceeds, the scene by and by will change. The surrounding country will put on a more inviting aspect. The storm will pass over, and the sky be again illumined with all the bright beams of the glorious sun.

Something like the preceding train of reflections was awakened in my mind many years since, by an excursion I had then recently made through one of the New England states, under very peculiar circumstances. Oppressed with the heat of the city, worn out with incessant toils, and enfeebled by disease, I had entered the steamboat, on a sultry morning in August, with scarcely strength enough to sit up, amid the crowd that were jostling and pressing against each other upon the deck. Though many enchanting scenes stretched before us, as we passed up the noble Hudson, entered the highlands, and caught a view of the distant Catskill, yet those scenes had little power to awaken their wonted emotions in my bosom. The next day, with scarcely power to sit steadily upon a horse, I started from the place of our landing, with no other companion, save the beast on which I rode, to try the invigorating influence of the mountain air of Vermont. As I pursued my

The incidents of a single day.

Thunder storm.

route, by short stages, on the west side of the Green Mountains, I found my health gradually improving, and my heart often drawn out in sweet and delightful communion with the glorious Being that built the grand and majestic temple of nature through which I was passing. It was not all sunshine and bright enchantment around me, however. My journey, like the pathway of life, conducted me through a variety of scenes. There were dark and cloudy days; and yet they were succeeded by bright and sunny ones. The incidents of a single day will illustrate the idea that I would present to the reader.

I had been travelling for some hours over unpleasant roads, and beneath a lowering sky. The rain at length began to descend. I rode on with all speed to a neighbouring farm-house. Here I found a ready shelter for myself and horse. The country around me was wild and mountainous. On either side of me, running far to the north, were lofty ranges of bare and barren rock, rising up like immense columns, upon which two sides of the vaulted arch above seemed to rest. The sky, over head, was filled with commotion. Huge masses of dark clouds rolled one above another, and towering on high, like vast pyramids, presented a scene at once the most awful and sublime. As yet, all was still and noiseless; but soon the wind began to roar, and the voice of thunder to break upon the startled ear. O! it was then an hour of solemn interest! I felt as if I was indeed standing in the immediate presence of God, as I stood and heard peal after peal rolling from the top of the mountain to the bottom of the valley, and then answered by a thousand echoes from the neighbouring rocks and hills.

The storm, however, was but of short duration, and I was soon again on my way. As I ascended from this deep ravine, the sun suddenly broke through the clouds, and a varied and enchanting landscape opened before me.

On one side, the forest skirting down from the sloping mountain to the very margin of the road, screened and