words, to dismiss him from his presence. And now left to the solitude of his own apartment, and slowly retiring to his couch, a heavy slumber soon shed its dreamy influence over his faculties; stealing him from the hurry of confused sensations, but to crowd upon him in more rapid succession the broken visions of an excited imagination.

CHAPTER VIII.

"True, I've a wounded heart; but I've a friend

So skilled in healing, that 'tis more delight

To be beneath his operating hand,

And bear the sev'ring knife which cuts away
Idolatrous occasion, than to bask

In the full sunbeams of prosperity,

And gratify an uninstructed will."

SWAIN'S REDEMPTION.

THE sun had attained its meridian altitude when Lord Mowbray awoke from the deep slumber in which, for twelve preceding hours, his senses had been locked; and finding his frame and faculties much recruited by prolonged repose, he made a strong effort to reason away the depression which, the night previous, had attained such ascendancy.

"It is unmanly," he exclaimed "it is unchristian-like, thus to sink under the weight of trial with which the Lord has seen good-nay, necessary to visit me. Shall I continue to pray

for resignation, and, at the same time, indulge in those enervating thoughts which render existence a burden, and unfit me for using or improving the talents entrusted to me? Oh, my mother! is it thus I have profited by your unwearied assiduity in implanting in the breast of your child those seeds of religious principle, which you had fondly hoped would spring up with my growth, and prove a sure and steady support in the hour of trial? Much, indeed, has been given to me; and shall not much be required?-How, alas! have I been made to feel my own weakness hitherto ? but henceforth, O Lord, may I be enabled to say, from experience, thy grace is sufficient for me."

And Lord Mowbray was now enabled, in humble dependence on that grace, to form plans for the future, and mark out a course of active life, in the energy of which he not only hoped materially to benefit his fellow-creatures, but find relief from the weight of melancholy by which he was oppressed. His daily supplications at the throne of grace no circumstance induced him to omit; and having fervently prayed for strength to

make practical the resolutions he had formed, he descended from his apartment in a frame of mind more calm and composed than, but the previous day, he could by possibility have anticipated.

The morning was clear and fine; nature appeared to smile upon him; the very quiet of the place seemed to harmonize with his feelings; he felt almost cheerful, and wondered at the change. Having taken his morning repast, he called for Williams, whom he endeavoured to address in his usual strain.

"Well, Williams, about those schools"

of

"Oh, musha, bad scran to 'em for schools! Sure I sometimes think the very wits will be schooled out o' the poor childher; for they're at it from ten to three every day they rise out o' their beds; and in throth, wud all their larnin', some of 'em are as little good for, in the way pliteness (politeness), as the ignorantest common phaisant (peasant) that you'd see goin' the roads in Ireland; and the surly, short answers they give to a civil question, is enough to-to-to-musha, bad manners to them for schools-myself would no more face wan iv 'em, only the poor misthress

was always so mighty peticlar about 'em ; and you were so kilt about 'em yourself, too, when you were goin' away-and chargin' me not to let 'em want for any thing-want any thing, indeed! and the poorest thuckeen that goes to them is as well dhrest, in the regard iv every tack on her bein' as clane and as white as the first lady in the land. And between you and I, though I wouldn't let on to them, it went to my heart entirely to be shellin' out all your goold guineas to them tachers; for in throth myself sees no good all their larnin' does, but just to make 'em saucy an' surly, and look down on honest people."

Vain would have been every effort of Lord Mowbray's to change the current of Williams' early-imbibed prejudice against what he designated larnin. Making, therefore, no reply to this last rhapsody, he proceeded, unaccompanied, to inspect those schools, which, about twelve years since, had been founded on the estate by Lady Mowbray. He had ever been a warm advocate for instructing the ignorant; and during his visit at Ravensdale, various were the arrangements made for establishing numerous free schools on his Irish