Where joy, heart's-ease, and comforts grow, You'd scorn proud towers, And seek them in these bowers, Where winds sometimes perhaps our woods may shake, Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, Save of fountains that glide by us." THESE old lines of Sir Henry Wotton did Huntley repeat to himself one afternoon as he sauntered towards the seat near the church-yard, and he had soon an opportunity of quoting them to Mr. Russell, who was occupying the aforesaid bench, taking what Huntley surmised to be a siesta. On hearing footsteps, however, he opened his eyes, not at all with the bewildered, dazzled look of a man who has been caught napping, and a little book fell from his knee which he picked up and put in his pocket. it in a way of my own, too. On a sunset evening or a starry night, in the depths of a forest or on the shores of the sea, 'Un non so che di flebile e soave has made me confess the nothingness of man and the grandeur of his Maker." 66 "That may be poetical, but is it religious?" "Your interrogative is a polite way of hinting that it is not," said Huntley, laughing. “I have not forgotten that I am sitting next to an Artium Magister. Surely you are liberal enough to grant that the Almighty may best be worshipped through his works?" Through his works-I believe I understand you. No, I am not so liberal, as you term it. That is good, but there is something better. He may best be worshipped by obedience to his laws. I maintain that no poetical feeling, can compensate for the absence of self subjection." "You maintain!" repeated Huntley, rather sarcastically, as if imagining a reproof to be implied. "Nay, here is my authority," said Mr. Russell, looking down on his Bible. "Oh, spare me chapter and verse. The obedience you talk of is impossible,-because-" "Nay, you shall not provoke me to argue predestination and free-will with you.-You are armed at all points. But entire obedience is impossible; first, because there are a thousand different opinions on the meaning of the laws themselves, and secondly, because there is a warring spirit within us, which leads us to disobey them.” "All the divine precepts are contained in a very small portion of the little volume which I grasp in my hand: the laws of our country, Mr. Huntley, fill some hundreds of volumes, and employ some thousands of brains in comprehending them. Yet are good citizens no where found?-and does the warring spirit of hunger which makes a man steal a leg of mutton excuse him in the eyes of his countrymen? What becomes of your argument?" It was impossible to chain Huntley down to any thing like a serious discussion. The easy brilliant way in which he handled amusing trifles made many give him credit for depth of mind; but as soon as any thing unconnected with pleasure or interest required serious thought, he flew off from the point. Taking the Bible from Mr. Russell and turning VOL. II. G over its leaves, something caught his eye which he read with great interest; and while the vicar was expecting some specious difficulty to be started, "What poem, ancient or modern, can surpass the book of Ruth?" exclaimed he. "I am glad the idea struck me of illustrating it! How exquisite is the feminine devotedness of this speech!- Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; where thou diest, I will die, and there will I be buried.' Exquisite Ruth!If my Ruth, now, would say as much to me!-I have a great mind, Russell," said he, laughing, 66 to make you my confidant." 66 "Stop!" cried Mr. Russell with a sudden emphasis which made Huntley start, "I wish for no confidence. My suspicions are my own; they may be founded or unfounded; but you must act for yourself." 66 Certainly I had no idea of offending you by the offer of my confidence," said Huntley, looking surprised and hurt. "You have not offended me; but confidence implies certain duties on the part of the confidant, which I am not altogether inclined to fulfil." "What duties ?" 66 Secrecy,-sympathy, assistance." "Assistance I do not want," said Huntley proudly; "secrecy is not altogether indispensable, nor very hard to maintain if it were; and sympathy, Mr. Russell, though our acquaintance cannot boast very ancient date, I own I did not expect you to refuse. Well-I am sorry for this; it seemed to me that we understood each other. What am I to think, then? That we are rivals?" Mr. Russell was silent. "Enemies, perhaps?" "No, Huntley, far, far from it. I have derived much more pleasure from your society than mine could possibly bestow in return. Why should we say any more on the subject? Let us each be satisfied to pursue our own paths, and continue to enjoy friendly companionship, without bestowing or seeking confidences which might probably lead to disapprobation and disappointment." "As you will," said Huntley, looking proudly resigned; and, after a short pause, "Six o'clock!" exclaimed he as the church clock struck, "I must not loiter here any longer. Mrs. Wellford made me promise to drink tea with her. A pleasant |