heathens. Her feelings would not allow her to utter any more.

I could always live with you, said Sophia: I wish I was but half so good as you are.

The hour of separation arrived on both sides there was the full and undissembled display of the tenderest feelings. After the two parties divided, the pleasing persuasion remained, that they would be henceforward united in the bands of a purer friendship than ever.

CHAP. XXXII.

BERNARD VISITS THE HALL.

AFTER the departure of the Wiltons the visit of Bernard was expected at the Hall with eagerness and delight. The Osbornes looked forward to the benefit which they hoped to derive from the conversation of an aged relative who was entitled to their veneration and their love. From the distance at which he lived, from his habits, and from the dissimilarity between his views and those of Osborne, his visits had been few. A friendly correspondence had been always maintained between them; and after a radical change had taken place in the sentiments of Osborne, his letters were more frequent, and they were highly valued.

Bernard had been religious from his youth, and had proceeded in his righteous course with uniformity. He had cultivated his mind by reading and conversation. If he were not to be accounted a learned, he must have been admitted to have been a wise man. He looked upon knowledge as a store derived from others: he looked upon wisdom as the fruit or production of a man's own mind. He made

no pretensions to the depth and acuteness of a philosopher; but he showed himself in his letters, and in his conversation, to be a man of close thought and sound sense.

There had always been at the Hall much which he viewed with approbation; but he saw and felt that one thing was wanting. He could enjoy himself there as a scholar and a gentleman, but not as a serious Christian. Osborne would seldom listen to his observations: but his amiable wife was more attentive, and was induced to read, not without benefit, some excellent volumes. Bernard saw her in her last illness: and, though he had not visited the Hall since that painful event, he had been informed by letters of all occurrences. Great was his joy and thankfulness when he found that a moral revolution had taken place among those whom he so highly esteemed and tenderly regarded.

Osborne had repeatedly requested the favour of another visit; and he was gratified at last to find that in a few weeks the interview he had so urgently solicited would be most willingly granted.

When Bernard arrived at the Hall, he was welcomed with no ordinary greeting. There was no forwardness, no vehemence, no idle effusion, no violation of the strictest propriety: but Bernard soon had unequivocal proof of the operations of a mighty moral agency. There was no technical use of evangelical phrases, no elaborate display of theological

knowledge, no formal exhibition of religious profession. All was simple, artless, natural, correct. Their language, temper, and behaviour showed that they had made no small proficiency in the best science. Henry and Maria appeared calm and happy; the volatility of Eliza was diminished, and when her natural ardour was exhibited, it was not without its loveliness but the change that had taken place in Osborne was most conspicuous; once so high-minded and secular, but now mild, and gentle, and inclined to dwell on the noblest themes.

We shall not weary the gay, or instruct the grave, or gratify the curious, by detailing a thousand things that were said by our two aged Dramatis Personæ. We will only observe, that they were much together, and freely conversed on various subjects. They recalled past days: they related incidents which had once been interesting; they spoke of friends who were gone down to the grave, and of changes which had given a direction and colour to life. Osborne delighted to unfold to his friend all his sentiments: they thought and felt alike: they dwelt with gratitude on their religious blessings: and they frequently adverted to that world which they saw before them in no distant prospect.

Henry and his sisters rejoiced to be in the company of their venerable relative and guest. They proposed questions to him with eagerness, and heard his answers with docility. He solved their diffi

culties, corrected their mistakes, extended their views, and taught them the necessity of caution and diligence.

You remember, said Osborne to him, the time when I derided your idea of conversion. The necessity of a radical change of mind and heart by an almighty power, is a subject which thoughtless Christians do not understand, and which they cannot admit. But such a change, by whatever term it may be designated, is undoubtedly essential to true piety. The real and the nominal Christian are different characters. Apathy and presumption are, I fear, the ruin of thousands of Christians.

Why, said Bernard, to use plain words, ignorance and pride on the one hand, with worldly care, ambition, riches, and the love of pleasure on the other hand, operate most powerfully and generally in preventing the right reception of revealed truth.

Man, said Osborne, I scarcely know how it comes to pass, makes himself an object of idolatrous selfesteem. He seems to take it for granted that he cannot be wrong, and that he cannot be depraved : whatever some individuals of the species may be, he must be wise and good. Our chief infirmities, as Pascal well observes, are pride, which alienates us from God, and concupiscence, which fastens us down to earth. Alas, very few seem to be conscious of

these infirmities.

You are correct, said Bernard; tell a man that he