which I had been shown. After a few remarks, gradually increasing in seriousness, I reminded her that in a season of extreme trial I had once witnessed, with much comfort, her meek resignation to the Divine will, and that it led me to hope and believe that under every future trial she would look to the same heavenly source of consolation, and receive the same merciful support. I then told her how much I regretted to be the bearer of unwelcome tidings.

With a sharp and eager look, as if she would read my message in my features, and with a mother's heart anticipating evil, she pronounced the Christian name of her son, directly adding the question, "Is he dead?" As I spoke not, she excitedly said, "Did he -?" but I understood her agonizing solicitude, and hastened to relieve it by telling her that it was not his own deed; that God, in his mercy, had spared her that bitter trial, and that I hoped she would look to him; as he alone, in her present distress, could supply her with the strength and consolation she required. Without giving me a reply, she hastily quitted the room, followed by me, crossing the hall, and entering another department.

At the far end of this room were seated several ladies, one of them was the sister of the deceased, and another a young lady to whom he was in

very short time to have been wedded.

The latter

was gaily dressed, and wore a gold watch and other ornaments. It was, indeed, with her a moment of agreeable expectancy, for she had supposed my knock at the door to be that of her lover. No wonder that so sudden and terrible an announcement as that which was in store for her should be more than she could sustain.

The poor grief-oppressed mother, unable to endure her inward agony in silence, passed quickly along the room, to the apparently happy party, and before I could repress her speech, told them, with all the energy of excited anguish, that her son was dead. Had a hand-grenade been thrown among those who were seated round the table, hardly could it have produced more consternation and dismay. A wild shriek was uttered, and in a moment every one had left her seat. The sister insisted on going directly to her brother, the mother was equally importunate; while the poor young lady, springing to her feet, with her reason dethroned, began to dance about the room, singing the while, "Lara, lara, la! lara, lara, la!" "Come with me," said she, taking me by the arm, "and let us gather primroses." After this, dragging me to the sofa, she bade me kneel down with her and pray," and then springing to her feet again she began to dance, accompanying

her movements with her voice, in all the appearance of frantic mirth, "Lara, lara, la! lara, lara, la!" For some time I was left alone with the three, the mother and daughter making efforts to get out of the house, and the poor distracted one dancing, and singing, and praying, and gathering primroses.

Such a scene as this is too painful to be dwelt on; remote as the time is when it occurred, even now its remembrance brings the tears into my eyes. Let me sum up my narrative in few words. Before I quitted the house of mourning, the afflicted mother and sister, surrounded with Christian friends, were comparatively calm; "perplexed, but not in despair; cast down, but not destroyed;" and she whom the shaft of calamity had so fearfully stricken, was partially relieved by a flood of tears. After years had rolled away, and time had ameliorated the remembrance of the past, she wedded, and I believe happily.

But what good can we gather, reader, from this narrative of universal sorrow? Much, I think, if it be rightly considered; for when we reflect for a moment on our lighter cares and trifling afflictions, and compare them with calamities that have fallen on others, overwhelming as the one I have described, it should, as I have already said, redden our cheeks with shame for our ingratitude,

excite in us fresh impulses of thankfulness, and add a new string to our harp of praise. When we contrast our merits with our mercies, how mean are the one, and how manifold are the other; and when we compare our sufferings with our enjoyments, it is to our reproach that a word of repining should ever escape from our lips. Whatever may be, afflicted Christian, the weight of thy trouble, it was not placed upon thee without the knowledge of thy heavenly Father; submit thyself to his almighty will :

"Humbled beneath his mighty hand,
Prostrate his providence adore;

"T is done! Arise! He bids thee stand,
To fall no more."

Bear thy cross now patiently, and after a while thou shalt wear thy crown triumphantly. Take up thy trial without murmuring, and thou shalt soon take up thy timbrel with rejoicing, in agreement with the words of holy writ: "For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal," 2 Cor. iv. 17, 18.

THE SILENT MAN;

OR, DIVERSITY IN CHRISTIAN CHARACTER.

THERE is, reader, great diversity in the Christian character. Reading the same blessed volume for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness; and looking to the same merciful Redeemer as the truth, the light, the life, and the only way of salvation, Christians yet manifest their natural dispositions in holy things. One appears to be continually on the mount, while another roams ever in the wilderness. There is in some a buoyancy and joyousness of spirit that leads them to delight in the goodness of the Lord; and in others a characteristic thoughtfulness that disposes them to dwell on the more shadowy dispensations of the Almighty. Thus while some are drawn by his mercy, some also are driven by his judgments:

Lord, keep my wandering heart in shade and shine,

Or draw or drive me, so that I am thine.

A short time ago, while sitting amidst a friendly meeting of Christians, I was much struck by the oneness, the unity, of their faith, and the great diversity of their gifts and dispositions. One was