have shaken a riper faith than that of a young ensign, who had only left school for a few months. He was discovered by his foes at last, and taken before one of their leaders for execution. The party to whom these Sepoys belonged were then busy with attractive game. A Christian catechist, who had been a Mohamedan, and was a native, writhed under their tortures. The poor convert had been accustomed to consider the Christian Sahibs masters of the land; but they were broken, helpless, and scattered. Their only representative was the weak and wounded lad, unable to stand, and stretched upon the grass, whom "the heathen" had brought in then to follow him into torture. He had believed in the Christian's God as the great Power who wielded the world as he willed, and he had trusted in the Divine Author of the Christian faith, with an individuality or personality of faith which is, perhaps, more felt by those who are converted in manhood's years, than by the multitude who grow up in the faith.

But the convert saw help from neither earth nor heaven. The bonds of the heathen were around him, and the land seemed to be forgotten of its God. The tortures of the heathen racked his quivering frame, and as the Mohamedan convert looked around, and met no sympathy from man, his spirit failed, and his faith trembled under the fiery ordeal. The heaven above was brass, the earth beneath was iron, and the prayer of the tortured an idle dream that brought no answer. Racked and riven by continued pain, weak and wearied by sharp suffering, that waxed sharper as he became weaker, the Indian saw not, like the first of martyrs, the light before the throne. The present girt his vision in its bloody coils. The veil that hides the world beyond the martyrs' grave, was not reft to sustain his fainting courage. No voice but the voice of blasphemy spoke to his eager ear. Oh! man-abandoned, dying, in excess of agony-muscle torn from muscle, and nerve burning in livid fire; why should they blame, that never felt the death of pain, if thy thoughts wandered back to the faith of infancy and youth? Great is God, and Mahomet is his prophet. It had been often said before in confiding trust; and Mahomet is his prophet, could save that shattered body, not from death only, for that he might have borne, but from that death's long tortures which he could not suffer more; or reason reeled, or it might be possible that his youth had been truth, and his matured age-a fable; and Mohamed alone could save; but as he doubted, the voice

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came a feeble voice and weak-the voice of a sufferer like himself. The words of the younger wituess, "Oh, my friend, happen what will, never deny the Lord Jesus."-simple words made elo. quent by circumstance and time. They pierced the Indian's heart deeper than the persecutors' torture. They poured the courage of a witness to the death into that wounded spirit. The SPIRIT took them, and made them strong words to win the doubting convert away and back for ever from the crescent to the cross. No thought remained with the catechist of earning life by leaving faith now. And now his prayer was answered, for other voices mingled on the torture scene-a heavier tread than he had heard crushed nnder its weight the bushes round the dale on which angels looked as they wept at sin. The flash of fire, the gleam of surer steel, the flowing blood of dying men, the angry shout of the avengers, the miserable screams of the murderers caught in the act-impaled upon the bayonets of the Fusiliers with the instruments of tortue in their hands, all flashed together in one moment on the catechist's ear and sight; and for a time he heard and saw no more. He felt that he was free, and his denial had only been a half framed doubt -a miserable thought-thanks to the young officer's voice of warning. The man, but still a young disciple, turned to speak the thanks of his heart, turned and saw that the gentle spirit of the English boy had caught the martyrs' crown that angels brought to that Indian ravine; and the catechist's prayer was answered, for he remained to future toil and witnessing; yet who can think that the English lad died in the moment of relief in vain-that he left not a preacher among the heathen made firmer by his dying words, who may live long, but will never live to forget the lesson of the hour-to forget to plead the boy's evidence for the boy's faith; or, if he should forget, still to ten thousand glowing hearts the story of the young soldier's death will preach with an eloquence that living men could never match. Oh, fresh and noble heart, what might a thousand men, who have laboured and lived ti rough rugged years, give for a death like thine! What treatises, wrought out by deep and longsome thought, have power like this simple tale over living hearts; and in after years, the student, who has grasped the body of a faith from many reasonings, in many volumes, may find its living spirit in thy dying farewell to the Mohamedan convert and thy comrades-thy "happen what may."

Then Eola mused, and mused, and then repeated their light words-repeated them, as dreaming of their import, forgetful of their utterer.

Nothing of earth, dull earth, was visible. Not one trace of land to dim the brightness of the glowing scene-not one being of human mould; nothing of earthly life to mar the. lonely beauty of the ocean solitude. Yet there was life; and beings of life floated on each rippling wave-dancing on the creamy foam.Life strange, unknown life to poor blind mortals-life of the spirit kind, dwelling in rare cabinets of beauty for there were nymphs with floating locks of gold and snowy skins, and beaming eyes of fatal brilliancy, which WOO- and win and promise but to

curse.

The sisters of the deep kept holiday; as frequently they sported on the surface of their world. They touched their harps of shells with fairy fingers, and in sweeping cadence drew forth rich tones of melody, and then they sung and laughed, and sung again, in very mirth and mischief.

"On to the emerald of the ocean, on ;" and away they sped, that merry crew, borne on great dolphins' backs. On to that spot which, with truth, they styled the emerald of the ocean-an island-a mere speck of earth-an oasis of beauty in that great desert of the waters. Tall pines grew from the mossy turf, which seemed but floating in the clear green deep. Tall pines, of melancholy form and moulding, looking as though they were the tenements of disembodied spirits imprisoned there so the mind would suggest-for some dim error of the past.

Thither the water-spirits fled-thither to hold their festival, and their songs and gleesome mirth rang in wild music over the broad expanse of ocean.

But one being, and she the loveliest of them all, rested so sad and silent. No melody springing from her harp-no mirth dwelling on her ruby lips; her eyes cast down, and pearly tears imprisoning the heavy lashes to her check; her hair, even her hair seeming to hang in sadness, and shroud in gloom the beauty of her fairy loveliness.

"Eola"-and the gay sisters clustered round her, and linked their arms, and danced-she in the midst, like a pure marble statue.

"Eola, ever, ever sad; come join with us and cast off this dull garb of grief, which better

"Stolid children of mortality," she said, "can those be dull whose outward form enshrines the precious diamond of a soul; the gem which sparkles through the whole tenor of the life. A never dying, never ending soul; a spirit reaching through all space and time. Oh! blessed fate-to be more than a mere bubble-more than a thing of foam- a breath -a vapour."

And now she stood alone; for her gay companions, wearied of her mood, had left her. Then a balmy air spread round her, waving her golden tresses, lifting them from her snowy skin, and looking up, she saw descending on his outstretched pinions the radient form of one of the great spirits of the air.

"Eola," he said, as alighting he stood beside her, "Eola, to heaven's great dome, thy words have fled, betokening a high, aspiring dream in thy poor perishable mindless form; speak now, and say, why should'st thou wish to be more than thy gay companions? or pine for aught more lasting than this life upon the moon-lit waters of merry gambolling on the sun-warmed waves ?

She raised her eyes, and the intense expression of those blue orbs answered him.

'Why should I wish to be other than I am?" she said. "Why? because the subtle question, Why art thou thus hath forced itself upon me with restless eagerness, and my spirit-mind, or that which should be mind, hath answered to that great question, I know not. The ban of ignorance hath fallen so darkly on me, that I have cried for knowledge; thence came the hope, the longing, the one wish, to have part in that great state, when all ignorance shall be changed into most perfect knowledge. And now, kind spirit, answer thou that question, Why am I that I am - the fleeting bubble of a day?" He bent his glance upon her, sternly, yet sorrowing.

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Why art thou even that ?" he said. “Shall the clay say to the potter, Why didst thou form me? Look at yon glittering ray of light, sparkling on the bright waters, can'st thou tell why that was made-created? Earth would have given her golden fruits without that gleam; man would have breathed, and all existence been as joyous had that single stream of liquid light been dimmed in its birth by some dark heavy cloud; yet, 'tis there-the fact we know; but the why remains one of

the countless mass of mysteries which surround | us. Mysteries, which as they open to us all, reveal the sterling truth of the great goodness and the love of Him who made us and all things with us. That sunbeam of the air lives but its day, its hour, its own bright hour, and then it dies, having done its destiny. Thou art a sunbeam of the ocean; thou, with thy bright presence, and thy locks, which fall like a golden shower around thee, and thy short day will cease when the inexplicable purpose for which 'twas given shall be accomplished. Pine not for that which is withheld-thy day is brief, but free from toil and care.

"I would bear toil, and care, and racking pain and sorrow to be like thee; to have that which shall live for ever; to know that the thoughts, the feelings, and the hopes which stir me shall exist, when the frail body fades; to know that I shall live again, when ocean and her children are nought but a dreamy atom of the transient past."

"Thou wouldst have an immortal soul?" "I would." And her blue eyes sought the angels, and her lovely form dwelt for an instant in his heavenly orbs.

"Would that thine own immortal nature could leave its impress on this frame, even as my image exists there."

And she pointed to the reflected picture of herself.

"Oh, spirit! messenger, or whatsoe'er ye be, speak to my longing ear, and bid it hope; tell my weary heart there is some way, some blessed way, in which I, the bubble of the ocean, may become something more than that;" and she bent her knee before the angel, and raised her snow white arms, as though she would have caught the promise as it fell from him.

"Child of the Ocean, thy prayer is heard and answered. Seest thou yon vivid ray of rare electric light? Swifter than thought, swifter than aught thou could'st conceive, thy prayer on it flew upwards, and the answer came ere the breath of thy last word had circled in the air. Thou would'st become immortal-in spirit imperishable-seek then that which is unchangeable; to dwell therein be thine existence, thought, heart-feeling; be enshrined in that which is eternal, and then thou shalt so become.

"To aid thee in thy purpose, help thee in thy course, I will bestow all human attributes reason, reflection, intellect. Thou shalt retain thy fairy nature, thou poor ephemeris of an hour, but I will cloth it with a human form, resembling thy fair self, of more than human beauty. Now speed on thy way, and seek to incorporate thyself with some imperishable glory."

He waved his wings, and as she stood trem

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bling beneath the soft breeze of their fanning, a change came o'er her, a wondrous change. Her blue eyes mellowed to a deeper light, her lip was curved with thought, her brow grew to reflection, and her form, erewhile but simply graceful, now, in each rounded line, each gentle movement, became expressive of the pathos of the soul; while garments-garments of mortal shape-came as a dreamy mist, and clad her wondrous beauty.

Meekly she bowed her lovely head, and waited for the next command; and then the angel wafted her forth on her mortal path, in quest of an immortal destiny.

She stood and a fountain of clear limpid water mirrored her graceful form. Lost in a childlike admiration of her beauty, revelling in her new-born human feelings, hoping with hope, for the first time in her existence-for hope is part of a prospective future, which only now was her's-she feared to move, lest she should crush some fresh-found thought or feeling. "Seek the imperishable, dwell in that, and thou shalt be so too," she murmurred as she looked around her, as her eyes fell on the beauty of the place to which she had been wafted.

It was a garden-a bright paradise. A soft verdant lawn stretched in the distance. Trees, of dark foliage and graceful forms, bordered this lawn; while marble statues, and broad marble steps, the work of man, added their mute embellishment to the scene, and the blue sea rolled idly in the distance.

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The Child of Ocean stood entranced. peacock's gaudy feather lay at her feet. "Where art thou, then, proud bird?" she said. "Wilt thou not bear me company in this sweet place? Where art thou, bird? Ar❜t gone-gone?" Then Echo, from her rocky hiding-place, repeated, in successive tones, "Gone! gone! gone!"

"Is this my future destiny-here to dwell? -ever here? Is this fair scene, and all that I behold, imperishable?" and she glanced around her.

Alas! the massive marble of the steps has cracked; weeds trailed their length along the ground; the autumn tints dwelt on the drooping trees; while falling leaves completed the sad picture of decay creeping over the now deserted garden.

Then Eola's head drooped low; for, with her fresh young hopeful feelings, she had thought to make this place her rest, her home.

;

"But I must hence," she sighed-" hence there is nought enduring here,”—and she cast a sorrowing glance around her, as again she took her way to a lofty mountain-ridge, and rested on the summit of a snow-clad peak. "Can these perish?" and her eye wandered over the massive grandeur of the scene. “Can

these mighty giants of the earth crumble beneath the almost imperceptible touch of time? Surely the imperishable dwelleth here, in these mighty monarchs of the world!"

But a voice answered her,

"Foolish being, fit type of erring human wisdom, pause and reflect-exercise that attribute bestowed on thee. These rocks, these massive mountains, of gigantic strength, shall crumble into dust before the destroying influence of time. Time-the mere instrument of Him to whom both they, and time, and all things are subservient.

"But even could their colossal grandeur endure through the long forever, how could'st thou incorporate thyself with them? Thou, a being of light and love, grow into their cold and stony nature! Leave these dead rocks, and speed thee to the city. Scan the minds, and thoughts, and hearts of men. Look to the immaterial for endurance: all that is material must perish; the immaterial only lasteth to all eternity. Now, on thy way again."

But the gentle Eola shrank from the noisy city, and her timid eyes fixed on the angel's face.

passing action of the moment. How her mind groaned for solitude, repose! Her mind seemed crushed by the moving mass of life before her.

Faint and weary, she leant against the sculptured pillar of a gateway, and her sad eyes looked round, and asked for sympathy-sought to find one congenial spirit to her own-but sought in vain ; and then her heart wandered to her good angel guide. "Great spirit," she cried, through whose inexplicable power I now stand here, grant me thy presence-if but for one moment-thy cheering presence: leave me not thus alone, in this dread place, to pine, and droop, and die!" But the angel, though near, still held himself invisible; and shepoor Eola-even as she spoke, sank fainting on the hard unfeeling earth.

But not unheeded; for, at that instant, forth from that gate came one who gazed on her as she lay-gazed on her face of matchless beauty, on her veiled eyes, closed as in death, on the radiant brow and ruby lip, the graceful form, and wavy tresses of the golden hair; and, as he gazed, he wondered whence should come such matchless beauty, such rare loveliness; and then he thought, why was she there alone

"Those who would strive for the boon thou cravest, must enter boldly on their contest with the world-willing to dare each danger, cross each shallow of their tortuous path, meet every threatening peril. Can's thou do this ?"

She raised her head in terror at his words, as her trembling voice uttered the reply.

"Alas!" she cried, "I cannot dare the perils thou dost speak of; I am too weak alone to meet the terrors of the world. But thou shalt strengthen me. Oh! I will weary thee with mine earnest prayers till thou dost grant me all the strength I need." And again she knelt before the angel; but he bade her rise. "Bow not the knee to me," he said; "to such as I am prayer is not permitted; that alone is made to One before whom I am but dust. Pray unto him, ask him to uphold thee in thy hour of danger; for to those who thus pray his great word is passed, that his strength shall be made perfect in their weakness."

And a smile of glory played round his angel's lips. Then Eola walked along, her eyes raised to the heaven of their own colour, her heart yearning for the help her trembling lip refused to crave.

Entering the city with a lagging step, treading its mazes with timid fear, she passed through each crowded street and thoroughfare. Thousands of human beings, all hasting with speed, and bent on some special purpose, passed before her, jostling each other in their busy traffic, heedless of all, it seemed, save the

With tender care he raised her from the ground, and bore her safely into the palace at whose gate she lay; and as he held her in his arms, as gently as if she were an infant, his breath blew on her pallid face, and warmed it into life again. And then her blue eyes opened, and, with a start, she would have dragged herself away, but he held her closely, and tried to soothe her with words of kindness, and begged of her to trust to him, to listen to him, look on him, to live for him, and be his own for ever.

"For ever?" and she raised her timid eyes; "for ever-for the long and dim for ever? Shall I dwell here with thee for ever, loving, and loved by thee?"—and her wild eyes looked startling in their eager brilliance as she waited for his answer.

A smile dwelt on his arching lip as his admiring look clung to her face.

"We will dwell in each other's love," he said: "mine, for thee, will last through life, through death."

"And I shall live, and move, and dwell in that, and be, when all I know is not?”

He kissed her glowing cheek, and hushed her questions with words of new promise.

And Eola drank in with eager thirst those promises: "Mine!" she murmured; "mine the great boon now! I have found that which shall outlive all time !-and I live in it! Minethe great gift of immortality!" And her own words lulled her into a peaceful slumber, as she lay resting in his arms.

She dreamed, and her vision was of a garden, | where each bright flower seemed to outvie in beauty its gay compeers; birds of dazzling plumage, insects with golden wings, flitted from flower and shrub, and filled the air with their gay songs and dreamy hummings.

But a strange, cold blight came o'er the scene: the flowers withered, the bright birds drooped their coloured pinions, and their glad songs were mute! Slowly all faded from her straining sight-nought but a misty void remained-while a voice spake words of sad meaning:

"Child of the Ocean !-spirit of the deep!trust not to fleeting earth for permanence! Mark well, this passing vision, and lay it to thine heart. Where are the flowers and birds, and all that gave life and beauty to the scene? faded-gone-and lost. Thus shall it be with all hopes rising from earth and earthly bliss. Child of the Ocean! thou art in a misty dream, following a cheating phantom, which lures thee on to bitter woe and disappointment."

With a sob, she woke, and flung her arms around the neck of him who held her.

"Thou dost love me still?" she cried, "and thy love shall last? Oh! I have had a dream, dashing the cup of happiness from my lip, and offering in its place a bitter draught of sorrow. But thou wilt love me ever?"

"For ever,

And again he answered her. dear one, ever." And the days passed on, each hour giving birth to some new joy, until, as in her dream, her path of life was studded, strewn with flowers; and the music of her own glad heart rivalled the melody of the birds of song.

But the dream was metaphored more closely, for the dull blight came-came as it had come in the vision, marring the beauty of the scene.

The love of him she loved so well grew cold; the dull blight came in that; his words of soothing kindness ceased, and frigid courtesy, or scarcely that, usurped their place-there fell the blight again. She sought to chace the growing mist far from her, but it crept on and on, shrouding her in its damp, death-like cold

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as

Once more her guide hovered above her. "Blest child of Heaven now!" he said, "learn the one great truth: life-eternal life, such thou would'st have, can be found in this great love alone; a love which dwells in every thorn and briar of man's tangled path; a love which, scourging that it may repay, draws the sad heart bleeding to Him who heals it with the balm of His free salvation."

He ceased; and the sky became one beam of glory. The dull earth sank beneath the feet of Eola. On the clear air she rose, borne by the gentle breath of angels' wings, through the etherial azure of the sky.

"Farewell, ye earth," she sighed; "farewel 1 ye palaces and scenes, which promise so much brightness to the craving heart, and cheat it with that promise.

"I have tasted of your sweets, and they turned to bitterness in my mouth. I have quaffed the cup of your false-named delights, your wild intoxicating pleasures, and turned from them with loathing to the draught of Heaven's deep well of crystal purity-that living water which quenches thirst for ever.

Farewell, beings of earth! who strive, and toil, and run the active race of life with eagerness, for some bubble which, when gained, bursts in the hand that grasps it: some glittering toy which throws its tinsel brightness in your eyes, blinding them to the glory of the Sun of Righteousness."

"Farewell!" and with her eyes fixed upwards, her clasped hands extended, and her lips murmuring her fervent words of prayer and praise, she rose higher and higher, until she passed from our sight into the endless vista of eternity.