many other christians, I was resting on the Saviour's atonement, and breathing general desires for conformity to him; but my mind did not sufficiently dwell on his example. Amongst other things, a controversial and dogmatical ministry had, I doubt not, a large share in prolonging this neglect. I rejoice that I am now aware of the error. I would redeem the time, and gaze, with a single eye, on this glorious object till I reflect all its glories. O, imperfect and sinful as we are, who can tell to what we may rise with his example before us, and his grace within us!

"After you left us, I retired to our favorite avenue. I walked with you again in spirit; and committed you and myself into the hands of Him, who is all-mighty and all-gracious. I send you a few lines which occurred before I quitted the retreat. I go to-morrow to Doncaster, and expect to be in London next week. Your mother is as composed and comfortable as the nature of her trial will admit. Adieu! my very dear friend.

Your's most affectionately,

"JAMES DOUGLAS.”

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AH! lend me the wings of a dove
To fly from these regions of woe,
My hopes and my joys are above,
And thither my spirit would go;
I long with my Saviour to rest,
Beyond the assault of my foes:
And lean with a smile on his breast,
No pillow can yield such repose!

How pleas'd and how bless'd should I be
To gaze on his beauteous face,
While love and compassion to me
Lend every expression a grace!
No cloud should bewilder my sight,
No sigh from my heart should arise;
But, filled with ecstatic delight,

All tears should be wiped from my eyes!

Ah! then should I cease to offend

The Saviour I love and adore;

His grace, without limit or end,
Should reign in my heart evermore;
All pure as the spirits above,

Each thought should exult in his name,
Each passion, resigned to his love,

With rapture his praise should proclaim!

CHAPTER XIV.

THERE is a period in the moral as in the natural life, which may be emphatically called critical. Character as well as existence, seems sometimes trembling in the balance; and the mind of the spectator is suspended in anxious uncertainty, between the fluctuations of hope and fear. With such feeling the attention must be given to the present part of this narrative, if the preceding chapters have succeeded in exciting an interest in favor of Lefevre. It is in the progress of the history, however, that anxious enquiry will meet with the most appropriate satisfaction.

Notwithstanding the unexpected arrival of his friend, Lefevre departed the next morning, as he had previously designed, for the Metropolis. His brother was yet to be interred; and he determined to pay him the last offices of respect and kindness. Douglas rejoiced in this arrangement, as

he judged the scene would strengthen those impressions, of which Lefevre was happily the subject. In this judgment he was not mistaken.

Lefevre's sensibilities were soon quickened by the presence of any touching object; but this was eminently affecting. It was the remains of his brother-his beloved brother-his younger brother-torn away from the circle of health and pleasureperhaps, without time to think of death, or supplicate for pardon. All these articles of grief and endearment filled his mind. The descent of the body into the earth, seemed to place an impassable gulf between them; and his heart was overwhelmed within him. He hastened to retirement-he burst into tears, and exclaimed, "Oh, Robert! Robert! would that I had di." His tongue failed him. He was not in a state to die.-" O, God! I thank thee, that I am yet in the land of the living, to repent of my sins!"

On becoming more composed, he read a considerable portion of Young's “Night Thoughts." They just accorded with the

state of his mind. Looking from the grave upon the world, every thing was vain and trifling. Fame was a bubble-wealth was rubbish-pleasure was vexation-and life a troubled dream!-Death-eternity-the soul, were the only objects worthy of regard! He did not, as formerly, sit down. to write out resolutions for his future conduct; he thought himself wholly dead to the power of temptation.

In the estimate of life he was now taking, he confounded innocent with dangerous pleasures; things trifling, with things valuable; and they were submitted to a common sentence of condemnation. Even nature, literature, and friendship, appeared as a mere blank to him; and he knew not how he should be able again to obey the vocations of business. He blamed himself, and pitied the world. In the close of the evening, when Mrs. Russell was expressing her partiality for a certain dress, he remarked, with a degree of feeling hardly suitable to one who professed such indifference to the things of this life, "that it was wonderful how christians