mamma; but, as you say, she is gone up to the court of the King of kings, and thither she expects me to come, that I may live with her for ever."

"Yes, she does. I hope, Edwin, it will be our great concern to meet her in a better state: this is our truest wisdom and our greatest happiness."

"Since I read her dying sayings, papa, I can scarcely think of any thing else."

"It will do us good to think of her; but we must think of her as in a state of exalted felicity. We must not go to the grave: there is nothing there but the garment, once beautiful, now decayed and deformed, which enwrapped her deathless spirit. We must think of her as she is as like her Saviour, and as having a place among the spirits of the just made perfect in glory."

"That is what I delight to do," said Edwin. "Soon after your dear mamma left me, I had a remarkable dream. I thought I saw her, arrayed in robes of light and beauty, come in at the garden gate, with a chaplet of flowers in her hand. I hastened to meet her, and she placed the wreath on my head and vanished." "How delightful a dream, papa!"

"Yes, it was: it cheered me exceedingly. The recollection of it now is refreshing to my

spirit. It was much on my mind: I wished it to be preserved, and I recorded it in verse. am sure you will value these lines. Here is a copy of them. You will take care of them, with the journal I sent you. They are a suitable addition."

THE VISION.

"TWAS on a beauteous summer morn,
The hallow'd hour of earliest dawn,
Whether I slept, I know not well,
Or how it was, I cannot tell;
But this I know, the blest above,
In mansions of eternal love,
Appear'd to my enraptur'd view,
Unnumber'd as the drops of dew;
And ONE there was the hosts among,
Who saw me, and who left the throng.
In sweet society, she trod,

With me, on earth, the way to God;
Together to his house we walk'd,
And of the heavenly glory talk'd;
Till oft our souls within us burn'd,
And earth's inferior pleasures spurn'd:
The hope was rapture to each heart,
We there should meet, no more to part.
To me the pain, the bliss was giv'n,
To watch her to the gate of heav'n.
Now on a radiant cloud she came,
Not with a feeble, sickly frame,
As when the spirit soar'd away,
And dropp'd its tenement of clay :

Oh no, with countenance fresh and hale,
As 'twas ere anguish made it pale;
With rubied lips, and sparkling eyes,

And robes of heaven's own matchless dyes;
And golden ringlets, deck'd with flow'rs,
Gather'd from amaranthine bow'rs.
Soon as she 'lighted on the ground,
A glory shone on all around:

I hasten'd, her approach to greet,
And fell exulting at her feet.

A wreath, bright as heaven's beauteous bow,

Softly she plac'd around my brow;
Then rais'd me, gave a gentle kiss,
And vanish'd from me-into bliss.

But though no voice address'd my ear,
Did she not say, "Thou still art dear,
Yet I am mindful of thee, love,
Though mingling with the blest above;
I wave the palm of victory,
In realms of immortality;

This blooming wreath delighted view,
A token thou shalt conquer too;
Soon we shall meet, upon the shore
Where death and parting are no more."
Still to my heart, the early dawn
Is pleasant, of that summer morn;
Before me still the vision stays,
And Fancy, charm'd, delights to gaze;
Still, still the softness of that kiss,
The dear, the sweet, ecstatic bliss,
Is fresh on Mem'ry's fairest page,
And will be so, till latest age.
And ever will the thought be dear,
That thou, bless'd spirit! still art near,

To minister, and guard my way

To realms of everlasting day.

CHAP. XVII.

THE day appointed for the meeting of the Bible Society, as before mentioned, dawned. Mr. Howard took Edwin with him. He was exceedingly delighted with the proceedings of the meeting. As they were returning home, the same theme to which they had listened in the morning naturally occupied their attention.

"How strangely things are altered, papa," said Edwin, "in our highly-favoured land: are they not?"

"Yes, my dear, in many points. But to what did you particularly refer?"

"Did you not observe, that the chairman said that, about 400 years ago, in the reign of Henry the Fifth, a law was passed against the perusal of the Bible in our mother tongue, by which it was enacted, That whoever should be found perusing the Scriptures in their own language, should forfeit their land, cattle, and goods, from themselves and their heirs for ever.' And now, he said, we circulate the book

of God by millions, and almost in every part of the globe."

"This is, indeed," said Mr. H. "a blessed revolution-a revolution of God's making, and one pregnant with blessings to the human race."

"I wonder, papa, how any one can object to the Bible Society, since, as many of the gentlemen said, it circulates nothing but God's holy word, without any addition whatever."

"True, Edwin; it is very singular, that any who profess regard for the Scriptures, should object to their distribution. But no good was ever done without much opposition: witness the history of Christ and his apostles. The object of the Bible Society is most innocent and praiseworthy: it hails the whole race of man as friends and brethren."

"It is very pleasant, papa, as you said, that good men, of different communities, can meet together in love, for the promotion of one common object."

"To me it is. The Bible Society does not call on any one to sacrifice any thing but what it is their duty, their honour, and their happiness to part with their bigotry, their unkindness, their arrogance. For my own part, I cannot help regarding such a society as affording a lively picture of the happy state, where a Til