THE COTTAGE IN THE WOOD. A TALE FROM SWITZERLAND-FOUNDED ON FACT. Feed thy people with thy rod, the flock of thine heritage, which dwell solitary in the wood.Micah, vii. 14. THE morning had risen upon the distant heights, and their snow-clad summits were already gleaming in her smile. The crimson tinge she had imparted to them deepened as we gazed on the wide amphitheatre of mountains; and our minds rose from the material creation, which we surveyed in so much loveliness, to that better and fairer world, on which the sun shall not shine by day, neither the moon by night; whose hills, unlike those we contemplated, destined to be removed, are from everlasting to everlasting; and whose rivers, dissimilar to the far and troubled waters, resounding as they fell from precipice to precipice, and soon to pass away, flow down with pure unmingled pleasures, and irrigate and beautify the garden of the Lord--the unfading Paradise of God. We were winding leisurely up a path that led from the adjoining village, stopping at intervals to admire the surrounding scenery. The lake-it was the Lake of Lucernlay stretched in unruffled placidity before us. Not a breath agitated its surface; not a dimple moved over its blue and silent depth. In the distance appeared a boat, but its sails were unspread; for the breezes were asleep on the bosom of the little ocean; while the storms, for a season hushed, were looking down in pity from the mountain on its weary breast, which was only now beginning to repose from the fury with which they had lately rocked it into angry and tumultuous waves. The oar, however, was plying; but its dip was lost in the quietude that dwelt around. Onward it moved, bending its course to a small harbour, whose banks were clothed with the thick interlacing foliage of the pine, the sycamore, the chesnut, and even the willow and cypress; for they wept beside the grave of a venerable pilgrim, who was resting from his labours beneath their tranquil shade, as if guarding his slumbers from the rude winds of heaven. It reached its destination-entered the copsewood that overhung the waters, and we saw it no more. So glides by, we thought, the light shallop of life. Now it is seen gaily floating on the stream of time. Its sails anon are opened, and the breeze blows favouring but while you behold it, its canvas is no longer unfurled; the gale that bore it forward dies away; it attains the desired haven; and disappears in the mysterious gloom that envelopes the eternal shore-the world of spirits. "Yonder," said my friend, as we turned the projection of a rock that leaned over the lake, and along which our path conducted, 66 yonder, peeping through the trees in the distance, is the cottage in the wood." Involuntarily and simultaneously, we stopped to contemplate its seclusion-dear to my companion, and for his sake a degree less dear to me. It was white, and with the blue smoke curling over it looked beautiful indeed. It was, however, far remote; and though dimly seen, yet our eyes lingered over it with a pleasure better felt than described. Deeply as my affections, from peculiar circumstances, have twined themselves round the mountains and valleys, the wilds and woodlands, the waters and pleasant fields of Switzerland, still are there some spots where memory lingers in the fond retrospect of years, now for ever fled, with reminiscences more than usually grateful, and with interest of a kind that yet wakes with a more lively emotion the dormant feelings of my breast; where we have beheld piety bending under the accumulated weight of affliction, and yet recognizing, in every dispensation, the supreme direction of an Almighty Father; where we have ourselves been humbled in Spirit, and found it good to draw near to God; where we have been visited by the "dayspring from on high;" where the tender mercies of redeeming love have distilled on us like the dew of Hermon, and dropped on us with the reviving influence of the early and latter rain; where Those hopes that, like refreshing gales At evening from the sea, come o'er the soul, Breathed from the ocean of eternity,' have fallen upon our hearts, and enabled us, with joyful anticipation, to realize the things invisible; where we have held sweet communion with those who are near and dear to us in the ties of the Gospel, though now, perhaps, withdrawn for a season, a little season, from our embrace: such are some of the associations which must ever make us look back on the scenes of other days with mournful, it may be, but with unearthly delight; and such were some of those which have left on my mind the deep feelings with which I return, in idea, to Switzerland, and with which my soul now hovers round the cottage in the wood.' 66 "As I was soon to be called away," said my companion, resuming a narrative which had much affected me, and which I now requested him to continue; as I was soon to be called away from a spot, which a variety of circumstances had concurred in endearing to me; and where I had hoped, had it been the divine will, to labour more abundantly, I was desirous to visit once again, if it should be but once, every roof in my neighbourhood beneath which dwelt a child of peace. It was in the month of July that I first ascended this hill, after a long and tedious confinement, occasioned by the rupture of a blood-vessel, while engaged in the important duties of my vocation; and for which I had been recommended to abandon my stated and arduous employments, and to retire to these charming retreats. It was doubly exhilarating to inhale the freshness of the breeze that had just sprung up, and to contemplate, in their summer adornments, these woods and waters, and to survey the blue face of heaven. I felt the beauty of those words of inspiration, truly, the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun;' and, simple as they are, they bore to me, in the situation in which disease had placed me, a weight of meaning well calculated to awaken gratitude to that benignant hand, which is never weary in doing good to man." "Never weary," ," I replied, "indeed! The divine mercy is an inexhaustible fountain, that enriches many a barren spot in his dreary wilderness, diffusing through its wastes, like the palm-trees in the desert, a coolness that revives the failing courage of the pilgrim, and enables him again to go rejoicing on his way." 66 My path," continued my friend, "for I then was glad to chuse a more gentle acclivity, having been much reduced by illness, lay along the slope of that projecting crag, which meets your eye towards the higher borders of the lake. On my right flowed the little stream which you may, perhaps, catch falling over yon precipice, nearer its source. Though small, that rivulet is not unknown in the annals of the confederacy. On its banks was fought one of the most hardly-contested of the battles which deepened the tragedy of our independence; but which eventually sealed the liberties of Switzerland. Murmuring beside me, as if in melancholy remembrance of the generous hearts that there had parted with their last life-drop in defence of their hearths and altars, it necessarily gave rise to many painful, though not unprofitable, reflections." "There is something, indeed, truly affecting," I said, filling up a pause in my companion's narrative," in the thought of the thousands whom the meteor of fame has allured to death. Many, believing they expired in a cause which Heaven looked upon with an eye of peculiar favour, have been known to exult almost in the pangs of dissolution; when, alas! they should have mourned and wept over that very impulse which buoyed them up. Yet, I cannot consider war in every case forbid den; and if in any it be permitted, surely it is that in which the sword is drawn to protect ourselves, our wives, and our children, from the unprovoked aggressions of tyranny, and to leave to our posterity the freedom we inherited from our fathers. "Men have been firm in battle: they have stood With a prevailing hope on ravag'd plains; And won the birth-right of their hearths with blood, And died rejoicing midst their ancient fanes, That so their children, undefiled by chains, Might worship there in peace." "Yes," resumed my friend; "and thoughts similar to these occupied my mind as I proceeded on my way. Alas! how painful is it to reflect on the myriads whom the sword has swept from the earth! If TELL and his gallant band had been more sparing of life, and had had, in their arduous struggle, a more undivided regard to the glory of Him, through whom kings reign and princes decree justice,' we might have retraced the contest with greater satisfaction; but now I cannot view it without a sigh. The conduct of 6 Grisler was, undoubtedly, inexcusable; but whether a revolt, even under such circumstances, was justifiable, would furnish ample subject of discussion.-To return, however, to our narrative. "On my right, for a considerable part of the way, ran that pretty wood-crowned hill, embosomed in whose trees lies the cottage I was in search of, and which at that time was completely hid in the thick foliage that surrounded it. Though the path was rather intricate, I had received such particular instructions, that, keeping its general position in recollection, I did not doubt but I should find, without difficulty, the abode of my venerable friends. Opening a little gate, which shut in the entrance to that portion of the wood, I began to ascend the steeper acclivity on which their cabin stands. A summer sun shone warm upon me; but from the state of my body, through sickness and confinement, I was scarcely sensible of the glow in which nature was exulting around me." “Ah!” I said, unable to stifle the rising sigh, "too apt an emblem of the soul! Long enthralled by sin, and held in the trammels of carelessness, and indifference as to its eternal well-being, how tardy is it in shaking off the chains it had once loved so much! No matter of easy accomplishment is it, indeed, to unlock the affections, even under the bright effulgence of the sun of righteousness; more arduous still to acknowledge his efficacy, and to open the bosom to the healing of his wings." "As I proceeded," continued my companion, "I took my hymn *Grisler was the name of an Austrian Governor, whose severities occasioned the insurrection which terminated in the complete emancipation of Switzerland from foreign yoke. The story of his sentencing TELL to shoot an apple off his son's head, for some trivial offence, is well known. book from my pocket, and read that May there admission gain. An admirer of nature, even from 66 Passing through a gate, I observed on my right a wood-cutter. His appearance was venerable; rather attractive than otherwise. The lines of age were strong upon his bleached brow, and his long grey locks waved in the wind. His aspect was mild, and bore some indications, as far as I could judge, of one 'redeemed from among men.' His eye had an expression of gentleness, and seemed as if it had wept, and that more than once, over the sins and follies of his youth. I stopped and ad dressed him: "This is the way to old Duplin's; is it not?? "Yes, Sir.' "Mrs. Duplin is a good woman, I believe.' "I do think she's a Christian woman, Sir.' "You have just grounds for your opinion of her, I hope?' "I can only say, Sir, that her conduct bespeaks her a disciple of the Lord. I never enter her door, but she begins to talk to me about my soul, and to tell me that she and I are old people now, and that we must soon be going to give account of ourselves to God. "Do you know that family?' "Yes, Sir. Sometimes I'm cutting wood in their neighbourhood, or trimming the fences, and I step into their cabin.' "Indeed, my friend, I would trust so from what you relate. Few study the word of God, or trouble themselves about the salvation of others, who have not some deep anxiety for their own. Instances there are, doubtless, of the contrary; but let us hope that they are rare. Can you read, my friend?' "No, Sir, unfortunately." "But you have some one perhaps, in your family who can?" 66 6 My wife can read, Sir, though her eyes are now becoming dim; and my two sons are good scholars. I felt the loss it was not to be able to read, and, I, therefore, gave my poor boys a little education; and it has fully repaid me; for many a long winter's evening, when the winds were beating on our little shed, and the rains were falling fast, have they beguiled away with some instructive and interesting story: and then it was pleasant to close the night with a chapter from the Bible; and well did my dear lads read the holy volume.' 66 6 I rejoice to hear such an account of your domestic circle, my aged friend. May the Spirit teach you more and more the value of that sacrifice which the Redeemer offered on the cross; and may you and your's daily grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ! To know him is life eternal.'” R. T. MEMOIR OF AN AFFLICTED, HUMBLE CHRISTIAN. How variously does the Lord deal with his people, in effectually drawing them nigh unto himself, or in recovering them from their wanderings, and causing them to be conformed to the image of his Son! He, however, is good in all his ways, and holy in all his works, and kind even when he seems the most severe. This was altogether most satisfactorily and delightfully admitted by the subject of the following Memoir. 66 I will endeavour to give the description, as near as I can with propriety, in the very words of Mrs. A. When I was ten years of age, my mother died; and being in a public house kept by my father, I was more in the way of temptation than I might have been in other situations. From that time I was led to pray, that I might be preserved from the dangers to which I was exposed. When about fifteen years old, I was much struck with this text, given out by a clergyman at a feast, Eccles. xi. 9, Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes.' Here a pause was made. Well, thought I, surely these words are not in the Bible. The remainder of the verse was added: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.' I then understood the meaning. I was seventeen when my father gave up the public house. At twenty-one, I married. I was always desirous to know the meaning of Scripture, and never found my mind rise up against divine truths; yet since this affliction, I see things in a very different light to what I did before." It is nine years since Mrs. A.'s health began to decline. She was a most industrious farmer's wife, and has left a husband and ten children to deplore her loss. It appears to her pastor, that the importance of religion has been growing upon her during that time. So clear were her views in her last illness, and so bright her prospect, being filled with all joy and peace in believing; that all her former knowledge of religion, though evidently to a certain extent influential, seemed to amount to nothing in her estimation. About a year before her death, Mrs. A. was afflicted with a cancer in the breast, which rendered an operation necessary. She then began to see the evil of sin in a very different manner than formerly, even as the Scriptures warrant us to expect all shall, who are under the teaching of the Holy Spirit. Referring to this period, she said: "I remember walking in the orchard, when my heart seemed ready to burst, from the remembrance of my sins, and my longing_desire to obtain forgiveness. I felt, that the fifty-first Psalm was exactly suited to my case. I wept and read it over and over again. I could truly say, my greatest trial was a sense of my own vileness." In conversation with her pastor, this was her statement: "About Christmas last, those words which you read in the ninety-fifth Psalm, at church, awakened my attention: Forty years long was I grieved with this generation.' I thought, that I had grieved God after the manner of the Jews, for I was fortythree years old. When I saw the surgeon drive into the yard, I trembled from head to foot; but as soon as he came into the room my fears all vanished, and through the operation, I was encouraged and strengthened as though I had seen Jesus standing by." When the disease returned, and it was selfevident that no relief could be afforded, Mrs. A. said, " It seems to me as if the Lord had sent this |