words spoken by a solemn dignitary; it is not even in holy uses that its claims of veneration are altogether founded. They have strong roots in the kindred frames and hearts that sleep around: the same power that gives size to the growth of grass and weed, feeds likewise the fibres of the soul's reverence; and he whose creed differs from mine, will look with little respect on the structure in which I worship, but will pause before his rude hand offers an insult to the building, in whose shade are calmly sleeping the relics of his friend, child, or parent.

"I can read here a strong proof of the desertion of your neighbourhood," said the new-comer. "Your aristo

cratic graves appear to be seldom opened."

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Because," said the young clergyman, "the rich can take themselves and their diseases to foreign climes, where, if they cannot obtain cures, they will find graves; but the poor man must die under his native sky, and be buried in his native soil."

"And as it is possible I may take my lot with them, I should like to make acquaintance with the burialground of Elmwood. Will you be kind enough to show it to me?"

The minister pointed to a square grass-plot, surrounded, like many others, by an iron railing.

"That," he said, with a slight smile, "is the tomb of Elmwood-perhaps not one of its most pleasant perquisites."

"So I might have thought yesterday," said Mr. Wharton, the deep music of his voice rendered more remarkable by the unmoved calmness of his manner and gesture; "but such a sermon as that of your's to-day is not calculated to increase our love for the good things of this life. It ought to teach its hearers to look with more complacency on the narrow home here, and with more contempt on the tyrant death that consigns us to it."

"Pardon me, sir," said the young clergyman. "I cannot think the word contempt expresses the right feeling with which death should be encountered. I have known philosophers, soldiers, and others, who prided themselves on having attained to what they called a contempt of death; but by some I knew the word was spoken in there thoughtlessness; while, with two

or three, every other truth of religion was embraced by the same feeling, and shared in the like contempt."

"Why are the old martyrs held up to us as noble examples?" said the stranger, in the calm tone of one who wishes less to argue than to draw out the opinions of his acquaintance.

"I should bless God if he gave me power to imitate them, where imitation would be proper," rejoined the other; "but I cannot say admiration would hold any part of my thoughts of that man who offers himself an unsought martyr to death and torture. His is an enthusiasm not to be imitated by a sane man. Had the three Jews

rushed, of their own accord, into the burning, fiery furnace, the Almighty's arm might not have interposed in their behalf."

"But I speak of a more passive feeling than that," said the other.

"I believe I have not rightly understood the term in the way you applied it," remarked the clergyman. "Perhaps the use of a word a little too strong to my ear, has been near drawing us into an unprofitable discussion. If you mean a resolution of allowing no false terror to interfere with the discharge of duty; and should we be called to the bedside of pestilence, if we breathe the tainted air with no more cowardly misgiving than we would the healthy hill-top (that is, provided all right precaution has been used); and should the fountain of our life be poisoned there, and death be near, if we can bless Him who has enabled us to do the work appointed, and has anchored our hopeful faith where nothing can shake it ;-if that be the contempt you speak of, I trust such would be my own feeling; but I have no sentiment except one for the recklessness of the duellist, the indifference of the careless man of the world, or the cowardice of the suicide."

"And the patriot who despises death," said the stranger-" in which class would you place him?”

"I know not," answered the enthusiastic young man. "If I were standing now over the the body of him who had fallen in defence of his country's freedom and religion, I would not presume to note his failings; I should hope for peace on earth to his ashes, and mercy in heaven on his soul."

"We would agree in everything

you have said," rejoined the other, with every appearance of deep but suppressed feeling; and, as he spoke, he extended his hand to his companion. "Let us be friends, sir." He then added after a pause, "If not otherwise engaged, will you dine with me on Thursday? Perhaps I am taxing your sufferance a little; for I can hold out no prospect of society. My own habits are opposed to mingling much with society; but, indeed, the strongest bar is in the shattered health of my poor nephew. A strange nervous disorder has usurped the place of strength in his frame: a casual glance makes him tremble; the fixed gaze of a stranger almost maddens him. Alas! alas! I fear that a mind of strong early promise is doomed, by the will of Providence, to set under a cloud."

"A heavy trial," said the clergyman. "At the worst, heaven seldom sends a dispensation without the strength to bear it. But, perhaps, your natural fears may exaggerate the danger. Of course you have had medical advice for him."

The new-comer paused a moment before he answered. It was not exactly a pause of hesitation, for it was not attended with the slightest confusion; but he seemed to be one of those persons who consider their words before they utter them

"Oh, yes; we are here at present by medical advice. It is by medical advice he drinks your spa. I give it to him myself night and morning since we came I cannot say with what effect; indeed the time is too short."

"Our medical man is reckoned very skilful," said the young clergyman; and as far as my short residence here enables me to speak personally, I can add my mite to the good opinion of the old inhabitants."

"I have no doubt of it," interrupted the owner of Elmwood, a little hastily, "and I should be happy to avail myself of his assistance; but I am in weekly communication with our own physi cian in Dublin, and of course it is only a sudden emergency that would make me require your friend. Should such arise, I need hardly say that the good opinion you have expressed of him will make me more inclined to seek his advice. I believe we part here for the present."

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"Not for a moment yet," said Mr. Hamilton, with a smile; "I am about to make a request. Your glen is a favourite walk of mine: but the porter told me yesterday that your orders were strict to allow passage through the gate to no one; will you allow me, in my own name, to beg occasional exemption from that rule ?"

"Ah!—indeed-I believe I did say something of the kind; but he understood me too literally when he kept you out; I shall tell him so as I pass. It is likely you will agree with me when you see the reasons I have had for preventing every one going in and out at their option."

The two gentlemen had reached the street of the town, and parted with a friendly pressure of the hand, opposite the curate's humble dwelling.

THE young clergyman spoke truth when he said the glen of Elmwood was a favourite walk. Whenever laborious parochial duty allowed him an hour of relaxation, he was generally to be seen treading its shaded walk, or reclined with a book near the edge of its sullen river. His love and enjoyment of its loneliness and peace, were in him feelings all the stronger that they knew no morbid tincture. In him the perusal of nature was the healthy exercise of lawful leisure; not an indulgence in dreamy, diseased solitude, that shrinks fastidiously from the crowded room, from the sick bed,

from all the active duty which the love of neighbour imposes. He arrived rather early at his host's gate-house, and his steps naturally turned along the path I have attempted to describe in a former chapter. He continued his walk into its more darkly sequestered windings, until he reached one part where it becomes much narrowed by the river on one side, and on the other by the tall face of a long rock, from the fissures of which sprung the hardy shoots of various climbing plants, and trickled numerous small rills, showing in their strong channels like the unexpected tear on a hard and sullen

cheek. He passed the end of this rocky barrier, and when he looked to the left, on a gently rising green bank, he saw a lad stretched on the ground apparently fast asleep. By his side reclined a large rough dog, whose acute ear at once detected the intruder's step. He started up with an angry growl; looked first at the clergyman, and then turned his bold eye on his sleeping companion. The deep, smothered bark that followed awoke the boy, and the curate thought he never saw nervous terror so strongly pourtrayed as it was in the manner, and on the delicate face of the disturbed slumberer. A rapid crimson flush first dyed his cheeks and temples, and then as suddenly yielded to an ashy paleness. He leaned, probably in weakness, over the arm on which he had raised himself from the ground, and said, in a tone loud enough for the other (who had drawn quite close to him) to hear

"I was afraid, sir, it was my uncle, Mr. Wharton."

The clergyman spoke a few words of common-place purport to him, but they seemed as much to frighten as to re-assure the shattered-looking boy. He might have been about thirteen or fourteen years old, but his appearance had not a single feature of youthful vigour. The dark shooting-jacket he wore could not hide the lankness of his arm, nor the faded flatness of his figure. The pallor on his cheek had that peculiar and startling character, in which the hue of earth seems blended with the white; as if the original clay were triumphantly stagna. ting the feeble currents of a puny vitality. His lips were thin and drawn; his breath had a heavy odour, and his eyelids a puffed and watery look, with a dark transparency that showed the blue veins beneath in all their sickly windings. His fingers twitched and moved with nervous rapidity; nor did they rest until they had clutched the rough neck of the dog at his side; as if the boy's heart felt more confidence when his hand was laid on the dumb animal, than if held in the grasp of his fellow-man; and the brute vindicated his confidence, for he turned his face full on his sickly master's, and licked his cheek of pallid darkness. The clergyman was sure that this could be no other than the nephew of whom his

new acquaintance had spoken the Sunday before, in terms of fear and doubt.

"I am no physician," he thought; "but I cannot help fearing that Mr. Wharton is confounding the nervousness of a weakly frame with the indications of insanity. It would be a dangerous mistake. Young gentleman,' he said aloud, and seated himself on the bank beside the boy, "I owe you an apology for disturbing your sleep; but, indeed, it was the dog's fault more than mine, for I would have passed on, only for him."

"I sleep sounder here than I ever can do in my bed," said the lad, with a heavy sigh, while his impatient glance still rolled from side to side; "and when the dog is near me, I am not so much alone and miserable. But take care, sir; perhaps Mr. Wharton-he likes me to call him uncle, but that is a name of love—perhaps he may see us, and be angry."

"Surprised, you mean," said Mr. Hamilton. "But if he should be, we could tell him that the dog introduced us about half-an-hour before he could, and that's all about it."

"Are you the friend he asked to dine here to-day?"

"I am."

"Then, sir, say you just met me here; but don't tell him you spoke to me-that is, so kindly; oh, don't tell him that."

The clergyman looked with great pity on the youth, with his clasped hands, his beseeching eyes, and every other evidence of morbidly excited feeling. "My dear boy," he said, "it is not wise or natural at your age to be suspicious of your friends, or to be so fond of loneliness, as I fear you

are.

You should mix with boys of your own years, and do as they do. When I was your age, if I was obliged to be alone in a place like this, I would have brought a fishing-rod with me to amuse myself."

"Amuse myself!" echoed the pale boy-"there's no more amusement for me. I cannot read as I used to do; a fish writhing on a hook would sicken me; and, besides, I'm afraid to go too near the brink of that water, the temptation is so strong and sweet. I would give all the world to be lying quietly at the bottom of it; and often I would have thrown myself in, only for the sin of it-only for the sin of it."

The clergyman was now more fortified in his opinion. He could not look on these words as any symptoms of insanity, but rather as the indications of a mental hypochondriacism, which erroneous management would urge to madness. But what could have caused the pitiable infliction? He was too generous and noble-minded a man to sift his young companion in any way that would have had a clandestine look, so he spoke to him the words of quiet reproof and encourage

ment.

"You say well-the sin would be very great; and, worse than that, it is a sin which gives no time for repentance; besides, it is cowardly as well as sinful—an act unmanly even to think of. The ill-health that God has sent you, you must bear with patience; for recollect it cannot last. The time is not very far off when you will be healthy and strong again; but if not, and that you are to die, oh, remember that the Christian's death-bed is the happiest one he ever lay on; for when he wakes out of it, he is in a better and a brighter world, where he is to live for ever, and feel no more pain, no more sickness, no more sorrow. Do you believe this?"

"I do I do quick, quick-tell me more; for whenever I felt any happiness, he was sure to come and destroy it."

"Well, let us walk on as we speak; lean on me." And the two companions turned back along the path towards the bridge, which was crossed by the road leading up towards the house. As they sauntered on, the curate talked with cheerful, heartfelt solemnity, untinctured by cant or dogmatism, and poured into the crushed heart of the youth who leaned on his arm, those truths that had been his own consolation in the day of gloom and sickness. He would have proceeded further, for he saw his companion hung greedily on every word; but suddenly the boy withdrew his arm, and while his face flushed and paled alternately, he fixed his eyes on the bridge, which was now not far distant, with the riveted expression of the doomed victim's on the snake. The minister's glance followed the direction of the other's gaze, and he saw Mr. Wharton, his acquaintance of the preceding Sunday, standing on

the bridge. He leaned against the battlement; held in one hand the barrel of a long rifle that was thrown over his shoulder, and his face was turned towards the approaching pair. Mr. Hamilton looked as closely as good breeding would allow at his deportment when the parties met; but the gaze of anxious pity with which he regarded his nephew at once disarmed all suspicion on the part of the ingenuous observer - if, indeed, his mind had ever harboured any. Then, so well was this kindliness of expres sion blended with the outward show of a welcome reception to his guest, that it had been impossible for a mere acquaintance to recognize in the man's bearing any other than that of the accomplished gentleman and warmhearted, considerate relative. The curate made some ordinary remark on the length and formidable appearance of the gun which his host carried on his shoulder.

"Yes," said the other, carelessly; I only want something of the kind to fit me for the discharge of the duty of gamekeeper, as well as guardian, to my friend here; and when my latter occupation is gone, perhaps he will give a suit of green livery, a gun, and a yearly salary, to mind his game for him. When I was a younger man, was a practised shot, and reckoned rather a good one. You see that water-hen?"

I

He pointed to the bird, which was sitting, confident in its distance, on the brink of one of the green islands that studded the watery expanse, which was formed by the course of the river having been impeded and swollen by a huge artificial dam thrown up for that purpose. He raised the heavy gun to his shoulder, and its long barrel rested immovably in the support of his slight but muscular arms, as his eye traversed it towards the object of his aim. He pulled the trigger, and the bird dropped from its seat, flapped its wings with a dying effort or two on the surface of the river, and then floated towards the waterfall.

"Do not forget my qualifications as gamekeeper, when you become master of your own property, Henry," said Mr. Wharton, as he turned, with a slight smile, to the pale boy, who had drawn quite close to the clergyman, and seized hold of his arm, terrified

either by the report of the gun, or by the fatal proof of the marksman's skill. "And now, my dear boy," continued his uncle, the very trifling bitterness in the tone of his first remark softening away into an expression of surpassing kindness, "will you go home through the shrubbery, while we take the road. I have something particular to say to our friend Mr. Hamilton."

The boy made no remark, but, followed by his dog, meekly turned along a winding path that led to the house, through the brushwood, evergreens, and trees, which thickly skirted the right border of the high lake. As soon as he had disappeared, Mr. Wharton placed his arm in the curate's, and in this friendly guise the parties walked along the carriage road.

"Well," said the former, " you have spoken to him. Is it not pitiable? Though a mere acquaintance, you must have been much grieved. Poor fellow! I wish he could have heard your last Sunday's sermon; for life and he are united by a much frailer thread than I thought at first. I have sent him along a different path from ours, in order to give you an opportu nity of reading this letter."

As he spoke, he took the folded sheet from his pocket, and handed it to his companion, and continued—

"You may read it all--nothing very private in it. From our medical man

in Dublin."

Accordingly, the clergyman opened the letter, and began to read its contents in silence. The first part was a mere interchange of epistolary compliment, and had no interest for Mr. Hamilton, who passed on to the next and longest paragraph.

"It grieves me much," pursued the writer, "that I am obliged to give an unfavourable account to your anxious inquiries, knowing, as I do, the pain my opinion must inflict; but it is a duty of our profession to prevent a fatal blow falling in the very midst of hope and confidence. I am convinced your nephew labours under a diseased heart, and should not be surprised to hear that its termination was a death startlingly sudden. If I could hold out any expectation of a cure, you are aware my task would be much more agreeable to my feelings than the present; but I know you too well to suppose you would consider the deceptive con

solation of unfounded hope anything but cruelty."

The writer proceeded at length to give the reasons for his unfavourable opinion, in words divested of medical technicality, but apparently inspired by the deepest knowledge of his profession, and he concluded his letter with a name that was well known as belonging to one of the first in his honourable calling. The clergyman then folded the paper, and returned it to its owner. The latter was the first to break the silence.

"Perhaps it is better that it should be so," he said. "Better for one so guileless as he is, to die suddenly, than to drag on a pitiful existence, clouded by insanity, or made miserable by increasing ill-health."

Mr. Hamilton was inclined to wonder when he heard his companion giving plain prominence to the probability of an infliction which most persons like to keep in the background, when it threatens a member of their own family, and he could only account for this singularity by supposing that his new acquaintance was one of those who can despise the little spirit of rebellion which calls any of the Almighty's judgments disgraceful.

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My own opinion is," said the curate, that your nephew may escape all the alternatives you have mentioned. His nerves are shaken to a degree that I never saw before, and we all know how the highest authorities in medicine may be at times mistaken, in pronouncing on the symptoms of those maladies. I speak from experience, for I have seen the truth of the remark in a member of my own family."

He then told the other of the danger of allowing the boy to be alone, and of the advantage of cheerful society and amusement. In fine, the conversation excited by this subject only concluded when they arrived at the hall-door of Elmwood house, and, as they entered, Mr. Wharton spoke in a tone of much

earnestness.

"I am grateful to you, my dear sir. You have given me more reason to hope than I have known for some time back. I shall act on your advice-I shall put your plan into immediate operation and perhaps you will not refuse me the benefit of a prayer for its success."

Well, the dinner passed, and the