and a readiness to go forward, after marking the Eben-ezers that I have been constrained to set up at the close of every fleeting year.

'But this is not a chapter on flowers-it is a chapter on new years, very barren of incident, and too vague to be classed with your floral biography.' Have patience, dear reader; I will not leave you without singling one from the many cheerful assemblages that the Christmas rose has graced, from time to time, before or since it attracted my especial notice.

Even prior to the period alluded to, while I was yet but a very little girl, I had often been the favourite playfellow of one who had a nearer claim than the tie of mere acquaintanceship. His story is touching; and I will give it briefly. He was born in a distant country, and came among us to be educated: many years older than myself, I can but remember him as a tall youth, when I was a child: but many little recollections combine to make his image familiar to my mind's eye. Having completed his studies in England, he left our shores, highly accomplished, and returned to the bosom of a family whose pride he was. Not long after, he was unhappily led, by the influence of some who knew how to work on his chivalric character, to accept a distinguished rank in a wild romantic expedition, planned by some enthusiastic military men, to effect a landing, and to excite a revolution, in the South American territories of Spain.

The result was disastrous: the landing took place; but in an action with the Colonists, a great number of the invading party were killed, some saved themselves by precipitate flight, and the remainder were

made captive. Among the latter, was my old playmate and kinsman; and the intelligence soon reached his distracted parents, that their beloved son was condemned to labour for life, in the mines of Peru!

His father, who possessed high claims on the confidence and consideration of the British government, hastened to make known his afflictive case; and letters were given to him from various members of the Royal family, and from distinguished official men, to the Court of Spain. Thither sped the anxious father; and by persevering importunity, obtained, though with great difficulty, the precious boon-an order for his son's immediate release-with this he again crossed the Atlantic, and had the unspeakable delight of delivering the poor captive, and conducting him once more to the arms of a rejoicing mother, a fond circle of brothers and sisters, to whom he appeared as one alive from the dead. Very sweet is my recollection of the jubilee among us, when those glad tidings reached his English friends and our joy was increased, when informed that he considered his happiness incomplete, until he should have received in person the congratulations of those by whom he had been so long regarded as a son and a brother.

With this object in view, he repaired to one of the West Indian isles; from whence a vessel was about to sail for our shores. She was very unfit, in the judgment of many, for a long voyage; but our young friend's ardent character prevailed over prudential considerations-he would not brook delay. He sailed-and we received tidings of the day and hour when he left the port; but other tidings never, never came, of the vessel or her freight.

Often have we sat round the fire-side of the venerable and venerated individual, who, with maternal fondness looked upon three generations of her numerous progeny: and while the tale of her darling grandson was again and again recounted, we have talked of pirates, and of shipwrecks on desolate places, whence after a long lapse of years the objects who were mourned as dead, have returned to overwhelm their sorrowing friends with unlooked-for joy. We have talked, until a knock at the hall-door, or the sound of a man's voice from without, has sent the thrill of undefined expectation through many a bosom; to be succeeded by the starting tear, and half-uttered whisper of, His poor Mother! what must she feel?' It is true that the outline alone of this sad story is impressed on my mind; but it is strongly engraven there: and from it I have drawn lessons of thankfulness under all my most trying afflictions. In every case, I had at least a melancholy certainty: I have not been left to endure the long torture of mocking hope-of that wild, obstinate clinging to bare and meagre possibility that the sorrow of my soul might be suddenly turned into unspeakable, worldly, joy. We do not half consider the measure of mercy that is given to sooth our bitterest grief. We do not, as we might, take a survey of what others have had to encounter, when wormwood has been added to their gall. There are some who would barter all the comforts left in their lot, for that which may be our deepest grief-the sight of a quiet grave, where the heart's most cherished treasure peacefully moulders beneath. They could be resigned, if they assuredly knew that all was indeed over: but that cruel phantom of hope for

ever flits before their eyes ; and the spirit cannot rest -cannot turn away from the pictures that imagination is constantly pourtraying, of what may be reserved of future discovery, and reunion here. In ordinary cases, the vacated seat is again occupied ; and the heart can struggle into acquiescence that so it should be but alas for those, to whose sight a vacancy ever appears, which they cannot but feel may yet again be filled by the loved object to whom it was appropriated! There is balm, indeed, for the Christian thus circumstanced: his faith is put into a more trying furnace and a higher exercise of it demanded but as his day, so shall his strength be. God doth not willingly afflict; this cross, and none other, was prepared for the individual, with a purpose of mercy for which he shall here glorify God in the fires of tribulation, and hereafter in the felicity of his eternal kingdom. Living or dead, the eye of the Father is upon all: and the sorrowful, the conditional prayer, with its heart-breaking clause, if yet he liveth,' may be receiving an answer little understood by the tearful supplicant; or, should the subject of it have indeed passed beyond this mortal scene, and thus be moved out of the reach of our intercessions, such prayer may return to the bosom that breathes it, with a blessing beyond his hopes.

Over his providential dealings, the Lord sometimes draws a thick veil; and upon its surface we discern only these words. "Trust in Him at all times." May He enable the afflicted soul to respond, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."

C. E.

WALKS.

WALK THE THIRD.

FOR seven days engaged in holy things—" We have thought of thy loving-kindness, O God, in the midst of thy temple."

The ceremonies of divine institution, which we have witnessed, have called up recollections of the wanderings of our ancestors in the wilderness,-in a solitary way,-where, as they found no city to dwell in, they were taught, that in this world was not their rest. In celebrating their escape from Egyptian bondage, while we are prepared to depart from this earth, we are not left without hope; we are permitted to view a glorious country before us, where the manifestations of divine mercy are ever

new.

We have attended the feast, and have entered into its rejoicings, but these are not earthly; our rejoicings have been in the Lord, we have heard, and responded to the soul-stirring words, "Cry out and shout, thou inhabitant of Zion ;"-earthly joy at such a season would have been unsuitable and unbecoming, but spiritual joy may be indulged in at all times: it may exist in the midst of tribulation-these the soul may experience together. There is a rejoicing which the most complicated distress is not always capable of interrupting. Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ;

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