By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, * * * * * Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dress'd, ་ "Ne from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense, Or idle thought of earthly things remain; Their joy, their comfort, their desire, their gain, Spenser's Hymn of Heavenly Beauty ROSINE. NE, one morning, declined the offer of her r Sophie, to accompany her in her walk: she ed to think alone; and she hurried on, to get away by herself: she soon found that she nearly at the summit of the verdant mounwhich rose above her father's dwelling. The onage of Rossiniere was a large cottage at le distance from the village; immediately nd it, rose a hill covered with the greenest ure; two chalets, shaded by pines and birch , stood on the side of the hill; and, beyond rey sterile rocks, spotted, in some places, patches of snow, shot up their spiral suminto the sky: these mountains were usually thed with clouds, but in the rainy seasons the green hill above the parsonage was often half veiled in floating mists. Rosine sat down on the fresh fine turf: her mind was busy with the schemes, which had that morning been half formed; and the thought, that she might be no longer a burthen to her dear father, had given a sort of tumultuous joy to her feelings, which she had not yet examined. Though a thousand suggestions had presented themselves to her mind, as she had ascended the hill, she had put them all off, saying to herself, "When I reach a place, where I can think without being disturbed, I shall be able to determine. Ah!" she exclaimed, as she looked around, "I am come to the very worst place; for every thing here presses round my heart, endued with some charm, by so many endearing associations. This glorious view of my own dear Switzerland! these rocks! and this emerald verdure! that waterfall, like sparkling silver, with its soft melting rainbow! The air, which seems to inspire health and liberty! the very flowers," she added, sprinkling her lips with the dew, which glistened in the azure chalice of a gentian she had just gathered; "every thing whispers-nay, every thing speaks aloud, of home, and of my country. Oh, how very foolish I was to fix upon this spot! To be sure, I have always come here to think and meditate, before; but never to think of leaving my own country. Perhaps I am wrong, though; perhaps I am come to the very best place, since I remember that the Tempter led our Saviour to an exceeding high mountain; yes, and with the power that Saviour (who has been tempted, in all things, like unto me,) will give me, I may be able to resist this temptation-this great temptation," she said, as her eye rested on the light volumes of smoke, curling and dispersing above the trees surrounding her own cottage. Rosine knelt down, and, turning her face meekly towards heaven, she prayed earnestly for strength; at first a few tears dimmed her eyes, but she rose, composed and prepared. Whenever she, afterwards, felt inclined to give way, she immediately prayed for support, and her prayers were never disregarded. "What makes my father look so grave this morning?" whispered one of the young children, to his mother, as they were at breakfast the next day. "Why are you so grave, my love?" said Madame St. Alme?"Rosine is the cause," answered her husband. "How have you displeased your father, Rosine?" Rosine did not speak, but she held down her head, and blushed deeply. She has not displeased me," said her father," she has made me feel happy, in the possession of such a daughter; but she has grieved me too, for she wishes to leave us, and accompany M. du Mercie to England, that she may become a governess there." "Come to me, my own best child," said Madame St. Alme," how can I part with you?” Rosine flung herself on her mother's bosom: "how can we all part with you," she added, as the rest of her children pressed round their mother and sister. Rosine looked up into her mother's face, and said, "I am the eldest, dearest mother, and there are so many of these dear brothers and sisters-so many to increase the expenses of my father: : you have both educated me with such care, that I think I could teach; and you know I have been accustomed to do so at home. If you can trust me," she said, doubtingly," so far from you, perhaps, I may be able to contribute to the support of some of these dear children.” M. St. Alme was Pastor of the village of Rossiniere, which is situated deep in the recesses of the mountains, to the east of Lausanne. Rossiniere is one of those spots where the primitive simplicity and hospitality of the Swiss have remained still uncorrupted; the inhabitants still welcome, with delight, the stranger to their cheerful hearths, and decidedly refuse to be paid for the accommodation they afford. The Parson |