to be spent merely in examining the opinions of others. I will explore some volumes; but when I am weary of originals, I will turn to the elaborate pages of Brucker.

The arduous task was begun. Henry conversed with his father, walked with his sisters, and consulted the Tutor; but the greater part of the day was devoted to the study of theology. He read, he made extracts, and he compared different books, both ancient and modern. He was often perplexed in solving difficulties, in reconciling apparent contradictions, and in arriving at determinate ideas and positive conclusions. He soon spoke with fluency on the Monads of Phythagoras and the Ideas of Plato, on the abstruse speculations of the Stagirite and the practical wisdom of Socrates. But whether he explored the writings of Greece or of Italy, he soon found that the knowledge which he obtained by his labour was vague and but of little value, acquired with difficulty and soon forgotten. He saw that there was a profusion of elegant writing, but that it led in fact to nothing that was satisfactory. He soon began to conceive disgust for this part of his new pursuit, which was very laborious and by no means profitable, because he was not going to be a professor or a divine. He closed many of the volumes, and resolved to open them no more.

But in the study of Revelation his views and

E

feelings were different, and in proportion as other books were laid aside, the sacred records employed a larger portion of time. He solicited the Tutor to assist him in recovering his knowledge of Hebrew; for he well knew that the best translation can be but an imperfect representative of an original. As he became more familiar with the sacred language, so different to the languages of classical literature, he saw in it a majesty, simplicity, and beauty peculiarly its own.

He looked upon the Bible as a book of History and Poetry, of Doctrines and Morals. With its history he was highly pleased: he viewed the characters as so many moral portraits, more or less finished, but all of them admirable. With its poetry, didactic, elegiac, and lyric, he was enchanted. He often asserted that there was nothing among the productions of the classic Muse that could for a moment be put in competition with the songs of Judah. The Jehovah of Scripture was awful and holy, great and good. The morals of Scripture were pure and exact; its spirit was elevated, kind and benevolent; and its disclosures of futurity were rational, consolatory, and sublime. Its doctrines he did not pretend to understand. But the sacred page did not insult his reason with the puerilities of pagan mythology, or perplex his mind with the subtile disquisitions of pagan philosophy, or wound his moral feelings with

abominations of pagan practice.

Here and there

was a cloud which he could not penetrate; otherwise he found himself to be surrounded with ineffable

effulgence.

He was now able to expatiate freely on heathen philosophy and on the generalities of religion. He had furnished his mind with information which he might use as occasion required, and he knew the volumes which he had to explore, if at any future period he felt inclined to extend his researches. present he did not wish to prosecute the subject, and therefore the seclusion of the study was once more abandoned.

At

A few weeks were spent in transacting business for his father, and in various excursions among his acquaintance. His brief interview with the Rector frequently recurred to his mind; and he often wished that he could converse with him more at large. His words, said Henry, were few, general, and guarded; but I am greatly indebted to him. I have acted according to his suggestion, and I am more acquainted with the immaterial world than I was when I saw him. But am I happy? What is there in theology that I do not know; and what does it confer on man which I have not received? I am as it were in a new sphere, for I feel more of the preponderance of intellect over matter. There is an elevating, expanding, and refining influence in knowledge, in proportion as we enter into its spirit and rise to its grandeur.

I feel as it were in a new sphere. But still I ask, What is the centre on which my eye is fixed, and to which my heart is drawn? Something is yet wanting. If I have done much, yet more remains to be done. I am now like a traveller with a clear sky above him, and with a lovely prospect around him, but who does not know in what path he is walking, or whither his steps are conducting him. In whom shall I find an intelligent and skilful guide?

CHAP. IX.

HENRY CONVERSES WITH HIS SISTERS.

THERE is something about you very inexplicable, said Maria to Henry: you are evidently cherishing some thoughts and feelings which you are unwilling to impart to us.

You are sagacious said Henry; but if I only conceal that which being developed might interrupt your repose, I must escape censure, though I may fail to win praise. There are occasions where silence is

prudent and humane.

We will have no reserve, said Eliza, no cold prudence. If we cannot remove your anguish, we may perhaps alleviate it.

No hesitation, no circumlocution, said Maria to Henry what are our love and friendship without the free communication of thought?

My trouble, said Henry, so far as I have any trouble, is mental. I am satisfied when I am employed, for then I have no leisure to explore the world within but when employment is suspended, the feeling of infelicity returns.

: