social devotion. The psalm had been sung, the chapter read, and the prayer commenced, when a carriage stopt at the door of the Manse unheard and unheeded. Mrs. Campbell alighting and entering the house, heard Mr. Blair's voice, and immediately comprehended what was going forward. She gently opened the door of the well known parlour, and stepping in, knelt down beside one of the servants,-all so quietly, that Mr. Blair, being at the other end of the room with his back turned towards the door, and, of course, deeply occupied with his devotional duty, had not the least suspicion of what had happened.

"He continued, therefore, to go on with his prayer as if no stranger had been hearing it; and perhaps the effect of what he uttered might have been less powerful, had he been speaking in the knowledge of her presence. More powerful, under any circumstances, it could scarcely have been; for his mild, subdued, chastened spirit, poured itself forth in free, unrestrained, gushing earnestness, and all the humble aspirations of the man rose to, and were overshadowed in, the sublimity of his religion. The voice of affliction was re-toned in that sacred moment, and trembled with all the fervid eagerness of unbroken faith, while the affections of a father, a guardian, and a priest, flowed forth altogether in one full, soft, and soothing stream of supplication.

"He who after being brought up in a house where the ancient Scottish system of family worship was regularly followed, has wandered abroad in the world, and lived among people ignorant, careless, or scornful of such things; and then, perhaps, returned after a lapse of many years to the paternal fire-side, there to witness once more those old and venerable observances of village piety, the effect of which has probably never entirely departed from his mind, however little their salutary influence might, at times, be visible on the surface of his conversation and his conduct -such a man, and, I am sure, there must be many such, will have no difficulty in sympathizing with the emotions which rose and struggled within Mrs. Campbell's heart, while she listened to this evening service of Cross-Meikle Manse. She, indeed, had not enjoyed the happiness of being born and reared beneath the shadow of habitual godliness; but she had, in her early days, been often domesticated for a time in pious families, and above all, she had spent the last of her truly happy summers under the roof of her cousin and Mr. Blair. Throughout all the years of wandering

that had intervened-amidst her gaicties and revellings, her follies and her frailties, the picture of those quiet and gladsome summer months had remained-obscured but not obliterated-at the bottom of her heart; and not seldom, when sleep brought the luxury which waking thoughts durst not harbour, had her dreaming fancy recalled all the fresh calmness of that happy and innocent life-the sweet sounds of its Christian psalm, and the grave simplicity of its domestic prayers.

"Mr. Blair rose from his knee, and was made aware of her being in the room, by Sarah pulling his skirts, and saying, " Papa, papa, you're no seeing the lady." He had scarcely time to give more than a look, ere Mrs. Campbell had rushed into his arms. He held her back, and gazing upon her once familiar features, altered, as they of course were, in the lapse of ten long years of an eventful history, he could scarcely for the first moment, believe that it was indeed the same Charlotte whom he had known. He had heard enough of changes in her-and he had witnessed changes enough in every thing about him; but her image had remained on his memory as it was first imprinted, and it had not occurred to him that he was to see any thing but the same rosy cheeks and sparkling, laughing eyes, which all men liked to look upon in the young and virgin days of Charlotte Bell. Instead of that bright personification of maiden loveliness and maiden glee, a pale face met his view-a pale, thoughtful, melancholy face-a faint serious smile struggling upon the surface of a pair of white and quivering lips-cheeks fallen in upon the bone-and soft eyes streaming with irrepressible tears. A thousand, and a thousand thoughts rushed into his mind, and gladly would he have suffered his tears to have their way also, and mingled his whole soul with hers in one agony of lamentation. But eyes were upon him, and he commanded himself. The water stood in his eyes, but was not permitted to overflow the sockets. After a moment, he could say, "God bless you, Charlotte!" in a scarcely faltering voice; and saluting her like a long-parted brother, he turned to his child, and bade Sarah come near to be kissed by one that must not be reckoned a stranger at Cross-Meikle. Sarah drew back and blushed, but Mrs. Campbell caught her up, and folding her to her bosom, rained a shower of mingled tears and kisses upon the face and neck of the beautiful orphan, who, in her turn was not slow to weep, for company's sake, although she could have but

little understanding of the emotions for the turbulence of which Mrs. Campbell had found a vent in tears."- Pp. 80-85.

The degrees by which Blair sinks to crime are, as we have said, among the finest parts of the book; but they are too much in connection with each other for us to detach from them any particular scene. The following passage occurs immediately on his being restored to consciousness after the illness which succeeded his fall. We do not know that we have ever read any description of music so exquisite.

"Suddenly, there came to his ear the echo of mournful music; and although it seemed to him at the first moment, as if it were produced quite close to him, he became sensible, after listening for a few moments, that the notes came from some considerable distance.

"It was a wild, plaintive strain, played, as he fancied, on a single pipe and he could not help imagining, that the same sounds had been heard by him more than once during the long trance from which he had just been roused. Never was such a deep melancholy clothed in sweet sounds; never was melody so fit for feeble dying ears. The breath of it seemed as if it were wafted from some world of unearthly repose, some sphere of pensive majesty-above joy, too calm for sorrow. The tears flowed softly, slowly, healingly, over the sick man's cheek as he listened to those sounds, which seemed to be every moment receding farther, and dropping fainter from the wings of the light breeze that bore them.". -Pp. 254-255,

This music was that which waited on the burial of the woman he loved!

Our space is narrowing fast, but we must give the scene in which the Presbytery discuss the rumours against Blair. The extract is a long one, but we cannot refrain from giving this most powerful and dramatic passage entire.

"When the clergymen composing the Presbytery found themselves assembled that day, it would have been evident to any one

who might have been present, that their minds were occupied with something very different from the ordinary routine of their ecclesiastical business. The clerk read his minutes without being listened to by any body, and while many little matters were being arranged in the usual manner, among the usual functionaries, the different members of the court were seen forming themselves into knots, and whispering together low and anxiously in various corners of the Chapter-house. At length one of the members, a tall, thin, elderly person of very formal aspect, moved that the court should be cleared, as he had to call the attention of his brethren to a subject, which, in its present state, ought to be discussed with closed doors.

When this clergyman, by name Stevenston, was satisfied that all strangers had retired, he addressed the chair in a long and elaborate speech, for the tenor of which almost all who heard him were sufficiently prepared before he opened his lips. He expatiated at great length on his own unwillingness at all times to open his ears to scandal, more particularly against the character of any of his hitherto respected brethren; explained, however, that, under certain circumstances, it was every man's duty to overcome his private feelings;—and then entered into a serious, circumstantial detail of the many rumours which had been for some time afloat, concerning the conduct of Mr. Blair of CrossMeikle. He concluded with moving a string of resolutions, which he held written out on a card in his hand-the general purport of which was, that the scandal concerning this member of their court had already amounted to what, in the ecclesiastical phraseology of Scotland, goes under the name of a Fama Clamosa; and that, therefore, it was the bounden duty of the Presbytery to take up the matter quam primum, and appoint a committee, with powers to commence a precognition-and that such and such persons ought to constitute the committee in question. His motion was instantly seconded by another person on the same side of the house, who, however, in doing so, expressed his own firm belief that there was no foundation whatever for the foul allegations too publicly circulated against Mr. Blair, and that, on a proper investigation (which, for the sake of Mr. Blair himself, ought to take place without any further delay) it would become manifest to all, that a few casual imprudencies, misinterpreted by the malicious, were all that could be laid to his charge. He concluded with an

eulogium on Mr. Blair's previous character and conduct, both of which, he said, had always been regarded with the deepest respect even by those who differed most widely from him in opinion as to matters of inferior moment-and by none more so than himself.

"When this speaker sat down, there ensued a pause of some moments, during which, those on the opposite side of the room (the same among whom Mr. Blair himself usually sat) were seen consulting among themselves, as if anxious, and yet hesitating, to make some reply. Dr. Muir, who happened to be the Moderator of the Presbytery, and of course had his seat apart from any of the other clergymen, continued for some time looking towards them, and at last he rose up, and requested one of their number to relieve him, for a moment, from the duties of the chair.

"As soon as he had quitted the desk, the old man, still standing in the open space in the centre of the room, threw his eyes eagerly round him, and began to speak of the matter which had been brought before their notice, characterizing as rash and imprudent, in the highest degree, the conduct of those who had broached such a subject in the absence of the person most immediately concerned in it, and fervidly expressing his own utter contempt of the rumours they had heard of, and his most sincere conviction, (for such it was,) that the pure and stainless character of Mr. Blair had been assailed in consequence of nothing but the malice of one individual, whose name need only be mentioned in order to satisfy the Presbytery with how much caution they ought to proceed upon this occasion.-He then sunk into a lower but not a less serious tone, and-after desiring his brethren, with the authority which years and superior talents alone can bestow, to banish all thoughts of party in considering an assault which might have been made with equal success, as well as, he firmly believed, with equal justice, against any one of all who heard him—the old man proceeded to relate the substance of the conversation he had himself held with Mr. Blair the night before he left Cross-Meikle, and the solemn denial of the alleged guilt which he had then received from the lips of his young friend. Dr. Muir himself felt, as he went on, that what he said was producing a powerful effect, and he therefore opened himself more and more freely, and reviewing the whole course of Adam Blair's existence, dared any one present to avow his belief, that even if he had been capable of offending in the manner imputed to him, he could have been