WE cannot rationally separate the doctrine of a general from that of a particular Providence. The existence of chance is incompatible with the existence of Divine Government. The scheme of Providence must embrace every thing or nothing: for the grandest and most complex movements of Providence are often resting on springs the most minute and insignificant. Every person who studies the workings of his mind, and marks the events of his life, has observed the most material occurrences in his history to arise, at one time, from the most trifling circumstances over which he had no control, and at another, from some slight decisions, which might have been otherwise influenced by the weight of a feather. All the blessed consequences of the reformation in this country are derived

to us, from an impulse of irregular passion in the bosom of Henry VIII. And, if so humble an instance may be adduced, the accidental meeting and slight intercourse of our two young friends, Lefevre and Douglas, gave birth to a friendship which contributed, in a considerable degree, to the formation of their characters, their connections, and their prospects.

It must be allowed that there were in Lefevre and Douglas some of the best materials for friendship. There were those points of resemblance and contrast, which the best judges deem essential to the strongest intimacies. They were both generous, susceptible, fond of nature, and warm in the pursuit of knowledge. But there were some very distinct lines of difference-We will not, however, for the sake of giving effect to a sketch of their characters, anticipate our subject, and destroy the active conceptions of the reader; they shall speak for themselves as the narrative proceeds to its consummation.

One morning, some months after their first meeting, as they were finishing their

usual walk, with more than their usual satisfaction in each other, Lefevre proposed that they should arrange to return together in the evening.

"If you are willing to remain so late as we do, I shall be most happy to have your company," said Douglas.

"When your society is the object," replied Lefevre, "time is no sacrifice. I will excuse myself to my companions, and be with you to tea. Farewell!"

In the evening, punctual to his appointment, Lefevre arrived, and took his place at the tea-table.

"I have been sorry to find,” said Douglas, "that one of my most hopeful scholars is ill, and not likely to live. I must call to see him on my way home, and I am afraid it will make you later than you wish."

"O, don't name it," returned Lefevre; "I shall feel a pleasure in calling with you."

They hastened with their refreshments, and were soon on their way to the cottage. On arriving at it, Douglas opened

the door, and entered the room with which it was connected. Here he found only a child sitting, who informed him that his parents were attending in the sick room above. The air of desertion in the lower part of the dwelling, and the stillness that prevailed throughout, excited the fears of the visitants; and they ascended with gentle tread to the upper part of the habitation. The door was on jar, as for the sake of ventilation. Not a sound, however, was to be heard, except that created by themselves. Douglas tapped at the

door. It rolled gently backward, as if self-moved, and nothing met their ear but a deep sigh from behind it. Before Douglas had well entered the apartment, the afflicted child caught a glance of him, and, with a smile of joy, exclaimed, “It is my teacher!"

"Yes, it is 1, my dear!" said Douglas, pressing his feverish little hand.

The father stood at the foot of the bedstead, looking on his child with a countenance that said, "Would that I could save thee, child!" The mother sat

between the head of the bedstead and the door, evidently recovering herself from a fit of tears. A fine boy, about five years old, stood by her side, resting his arm on her knee, and looking alternately on his mother and brother, with an air of mysterious concern. Thomas, the sufferer, lay on the side of the bed nearest his mother, in a state of affliction that afforded little hope of his recovery. But, although reduced in body, he seemed to possess a quickness of mind and a freedom of utterance unusual to him in health. This was truly pleasing to Douglas. He had lately been very much gratified with this child's attention and seriousness; and he now came with similar, but superior, anxieties to the husbandman, who, after a severe night in spring, walks forth to see whether his young fruit has survived or fallen by the blast.

"O, sir," said the mother, with a crying voice, "Thomas has been breaking our hearts! He says he has been such a naughty boy-has such a bad heart-and fears he shall never go to heaven!—and,