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versation with me by asking, 'Do you play the arp, Miss Brand ? I love the arp.'

“ After dinner the younger boy, who was an ungainly lout of sixteen, recited Collins' · Ode on the Passions,' and “My Name is Norval,' with appropriate action, and we came away early.

“ But what were you reading, Teresa, when I

came in ?"

“I was reading a beautiful little poem on filial affection, which I dare say you know well, Catherine, as I found it in


work-basket." The gaiety vanished from Catherine's countenance as she glanced at the poem, and she replied, I can scarcely bear the sight of those affecting lines. I remember the deep emotion with which I first perused them, during the life-time of my precious parents ; for oh! they were very precious to me, although I was a wayward and undutiful daughter.

“ After I first read them my heart swelled almost to bursting as I looked on my mother's care-worn countenance, and my father's dear head, touched with a silver shade before its time, and I said to myself, “ You, unhappy being, have largely contributed to plant those lines of grief and anxiety, and to add to the cares which have sprinkled those gray hairs.' And oh! how fervently did I pray that the wounds which I had made might be healed in those beloved bosoms; that they might be thrice-blessed as they had been afflicted ; that I might be permitted to smooth their downward path, and be yet their solace and joy.

“But my prayers were not answered," she continued, in an agony of grief, “ and they were taken suddenly from me.”

Teresa talked so soothingly to Catherine that her violent remorse was partly allayed.

“Oh! Teresa,” she exclaimed, “what would I not give for such a mind as you possess for that vital spirit of religion which so powerfully sustains and so unerringly guides you!"

“ Your cravings after good will doubtless be satisfied,” replied Teresa, “and when you have once attained that frame of mind which befits immortal creatures, you will experience a perfect resignation of your own will to that of a superior Being. Passing annoyances, which formerly weighed you down to the dust, and rendered you wretched, will then fall powerless on your head; you will feel them for a moment, as human nature will feel, but a short prayer—a thought of Heaven-the remembrance of eternity will speedily calm the inward tumult, and in the midst of tribulation you will rejoice.”

Teresa ceased speaking, but the heavenly ex. pression of her countenance was more eloquent than words.

“ Alas !” replied Catherine, “ I cannot attain this peaceful state of mind. I reason with myself; I recall all that I have read or written on the subject of resignation; I consider the many substantial blessings which I still enjoy, and I reflect on the shortness of this life and the endless bliss of the next, and yet I cannot quiet this rebellious heart."

“But do you pray?" answered Teresa—“ do so, and, lo! your griefs will be gone -- the memory of them will be as faint as though they had assailed you many, many years ago.—These are the solid blessings of religion. I cannot imagine or understand how people, who are mere formalists, can struggle through trials or survive the wreck of their earthly hopes. Oh! how dreadful must be their despair, when they look about them and see no ray of hope, either from this world or the next; all is to them darkness and hopeless wretchedness. Those blessed words, They who sow in tears shall reap in joy,' are unknown to them. A hundred times, perhaps, have their eyes glanced over them in their stated devotions, but their hearts have never felt them."

Thus the friends conversed for some time, till the entrance of Mrs. Bolton put an end to their conversation.

A grand fancy ball took place a few nights after this, and Teresa, in compliance with her cousin's wish, accompanied her and Catherine Brand to the gay scene.

It was intended for a charitable purpose, and was given at Willis's

rooms. The scene was splendid ;- the costumes

the music—the light — the beauty were all bewildering, and every one was, or looked,


Teresa went through her part with an aching heart, though with seeming gaiety. The volatile Catherine was most becomingly dressed, looked quite handsome, and was in exuberant spirits.

The crowd was oppressive at first, and Catherine, after sundry squeezings and elbowings, had worked her way into one of the dances with her partner, who was dressed as a Turk, which costume he had selected-because his countenance was essentially English. His unfortunate moustachios were constantly slipping down on his upper lip, threatening to part company altogether, and his broad face and turned-up nose assimilated most happily with his exuberant turban. During the dance, Catherine endured every species of personal inconvenience, with the most exemplary fortitude; her feet were walked upon, sharp elbows were stuck into her sides, and, on one occasion, her partner and herself were

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