was imprisoned in a cage near one of the windows, began to sing cheerily, and Lady St. John was struck with the discordance between the blighted heart, faded form, and sorrowmarked countenance before her, and the joyful strains of that little bird. Mrs. Anson seemed to feel it too, for rising suddenly, she took down the cage, and placed the pretty warbler in the verandah, closing the window again. Teresa talked to her of her affliction, it was unfathomable; but her thoughts were fixed in heaven, and held constant communion with her beloved in the skies.

How blessed, how consoling is the thought, that the being we have given up to eternal felicity may, perhaps, be permitted to look down from his bowers of light, and note our aspirations, and see all our love and devotion to his memory! And who can say but what his spirit may sometimes hover near us in the hour of sorrow, or danger, or temptation, putting comforting thoughts into our hearts, or warding off the blow about to fall on us, or whispering

encouragement to our souls to bear us through our trials? Who can say, that this same gentle guardian may not visit us in sleep, when the spirit is abroad, borne on the wings of fancy, and we once again meet the loving gaze of eyes long since sealed by the hand of death; or are ravished by the delicious. tones of that voice whose sound had become a far-off memory to us? And above all, when in the solitude of our chamber, we kneel before God and our Saviour, and the whole listening company of heaven, and pour forth our fervent prayers, and feel a refreshing glow in our heart, may we not hope that our own beloved one will especially feel our prayer and rejoice over us, or hovering near us, wait to waft our petitions to the throne of grace? Oh, rapturous moment cf meeting again in perfect beauty, in celestial joy, in eternal reunion? Let us then who are bereaved of our last earthly hope, let us forget, or strive to forget, our earthly sorrows, and only consider how we may best render ourselves worthy of such surpassing happiness. The years

of our pilgrimage will swiftly pass, and then, beyond the gates of death, our guardian angel will receive us with rapture, and conduct us in triumph to our brilliant and everlasting home.

Oh, no! cold casuists may say what they will -it cannot be that the love which has blessed us on earth, which has supported us through the rough blasts of adversity and soothed us in sickness; which has outlived all the storms of angry fortune; which has been entwined with the very heart-strings where it dwelt; which shone out in the last dying glance that rested on us; it cannot be, we repeat, that such devotion can die when the fragile body dies, and this strong tie be severed for ever; that this earthly rending asunder of joined hearts can be eternal! No, in Heaven it is renewed with tenfold force and purity. We must believe it or religion itself would lose its most effectual power of consolation. What else could have virtue to dry the widow's tears, and enable her to support a wearisome existence, shorn of its sun, its centre of attraction? What else could calm the wild

agony of the mother, whose only son has met with a violent and untimely death, whilst his young spirit was still unquenched, and his bright eyes yet radiant with the delusive hopes of life? We have all some dear one

"Not lost-but gone before."

who draws our hearts heavenwards; but alas! too often, the gentle voice of our guardian-angel is drowned by the clamour of worldly thoughts, and hopes, and contending passions!

Two more individuals were shortly added to Mrs. Ellis in Teresa's friendship. A clergyman and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Hartford. They had come abroad for the health of their eldest child, a delicate interesting girl of fifteen. Both Mrs. Anson and Teresa were delighted with this excellent couple, and found great enjoyment in their society.

Mrs. Hartford was a sweet, lovely woman, a being who once seen, must ever be retained in the memory. Her tall, graceful figure, seeming as though it could scarce support itself; her soft, blue eyes, shining with virtue, and emitting

rays of the exalted goodness which dwelt within her peaceful bosom; her smile, so exactly like what one imagines must be the smile of angels; the beautiful flush on her delicate cheek, which all gazed on with trembling interest,-created an affection for her even in the coldest and most selfish breast. Teresa prayed that she might be long spared to a world which possessed so few like her, and which could so ill spare her saintly virtues. She was a being one longed to take to one's heart and cherish. Her husband was a true Christian, earnest, gentle, yet sparing not censure to the faults of the rich as well as the poor; charitable, in the sublimest sense of the word, and found often at the bed-sides of the sick and indigent. He was eloquent, persuasive, irresistible in the pulpit; highly cultivated in mind, with the most refined and classical taste, and a deep love for whatever was beautiful in art or nature; eminently accomplished, yet humble, meek and lowly,-such was the excelcellent Mr. Hartford, the idol of his happy parishioners.