them as mutual friends, already sees them together on the surface of the water, locked in eacn others' arms.

It may be that such a scene as this, striking and beautiful, may be familiar to you; at all events, you will not object to my dwelling upon it and applying it, as best I may, to such occurrences as present themselves to my mind.

In the days of my youth I have indulged in dreams of hostile glory; for as yet I had not learned to look on war in the hateful light in which I now regard it.

He

In the days of my boyhood I had a schoolfellow that I loved, and we were knit together as though we had but one heart between us. In after years our friendship was unbroken. went abroad, and I mourned his absence; for at that time grim-visaged war was stalking about the world, and my friend was cast into the prisonhouse of an enemy. After a season, he succeeded in making his escape, and our meeting was like that of the golden leaves in the stream, for our eyes brightened, and heart sprang to heart, and soul to soul.

If you have ever seen the arrival of an emigrant ship in a foreign land, where beating bosoms were awaiting her approach; or a homeward-bound Indiaman come into a British port, while the

throng on the deck, and the throng on the pier, with eyes of intensity regarded each other; if you have witnessed the eager haste with which, when the landing has taken place, they have "cut short all intermission," and hurried into each others' arms, you will admit that the golden leaves are no unapt illustration of the scene.

That must needs have been a touching meeting set forth in the parable of the poor prodigal. It matters but little whether we look at the son or the father, for in either we see enough to melt our hearts with sympathy. True it is that the young man has sadly sinned, but then he has also sadly sorrowed, and is now, in the very spirit of repentance, returning home, to take on himself, if such a favour may be granted him, the part of a hired servant. You may see his ragged raiment, and his pale, careworn face; but you cannot see the agony of his heart, and the depth of his humiliation. But the quick eye of an affectionate father has descried at a distance his repentant child. He hastens towards him; and here again the union of the golden leaves occurs to me, for the offending child and the forgiving parent are soon clasped in each others arms.

And now I see, in my sunny musings, tne meeting of joyous hearts. The human leaves, in many a golden flight, are fluttering. Schoolboys

and girls, half wild with hope and holiday and joy, are hastening home, where smiling welcome awaits them. Bridal parties are gathering; and family groups of fond parents and affectionate children; loving friends and friendly neighbours, with beaming faces and kindling bosoms, are freely mingling. How vividly the past comes upon me! Again I see the river and the spreading tree, and again the sun-lit flight of leaves spring forward to lose themselves in one another, on the surface of the crystal waters.

But are there no springings towards each other, no minglings of renewed hearts in seasons of prayer and praise? Oh, yes! for never are human beings more closely drawn together than when engaged in holy exercises. "Did not our heart burn within us," said the two disciples, "while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?" Luke xxiv. 32. What mysterious links of hallowed love bind together the followers of the Redeemer, when their souls magnify the Lord, and their spirits rejoice in God their Saviour! Luke i. 46, 47 ; and what communion of spirit takes place amid a throng of worshippers, when heart and tongue pour forth the strain of thanksgiving,

"All people that on earth do dwell,

Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
Him serve with fear, his praise forth tell,
Come ye before him and rejoice."

Do you never, Christian reader, look up to the bright blue sky, and think of the brighter world beyond? And do you never fancy the forms of Christian friends now habitants of glory, as ready to welcome you to their blissful abode? Let me take an upward glance for you:

It

may

I see within a temple bright

The shining ones appear,

In sparkling robes of living light,

And crystal raiment clear:

And some upon the threshhold stand,

With looks of love and outstretch'd hand.

They seem as when on earth awhile,
Except their shining dress;

And then they wear a beaming smile
Of heavenly tenderness:

Their love-lit eyes are plain to view,
Their eager hands are stretch'd to you.

As yet you may not wing your way
To that eternal zone;

Your earthly joys are not complete,

Nor yet your duties done.

Perform your Saviour's kind commanda,

Be patient in his holy hands.

And wait awhile, and you shall soar

To that celestial crowd,

With songs in your Redeemer's praise,

And hallelujahs loud

And meet where sorrow never grieves,

E'en like those flying golden leaves.

be that in my sunny musings I have

awakened in you some kindred emotions, and that after gazing on my fall of sun-lit leaves, you will be indulging in some golden showers of your own: the subject placed before you may be variously applied, and is equally suited to prose and poetry. Whether I have succeeded or failed in my attempts to impart pleasure and profit, you will agree with me that we should not altogether regard the fall of a leaf with unconcern, when we remember that we are indebted for our theory and system of the universe to the fall of an acorn.