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laughed aloud, and rapped at the window, and the visage of Mr. Mallard, who was passing at the time, was turned towards the party. Nat, for shame!" said his mother." Impudent schoolboy," murmured Miss Penny.-"O yes, sir, pray walk in," bawled the lad through the window, " here's a lady wants to see you ;" and then, before Mr. Mallard could enter, he rushed away." Pray sit down, sir," said Mrs. Adams, "foolish joke of my son Nathaniel! boys will be boys! Eh, Miss Penny ?"—"What, neither of you ladies gone a walking," said Mr. Mallard," and such a sweet pleasant evening? I came down the street with Mr. Beville, poor young gentleman! we are to lose him, for Mr. Clare brings his own curate from Cresshampton."-" And where may that be?" said Mrs. Adams. "His last parish," said Mr. Mallard, "and the new curate's name is Cooper." "Do sit you down and tell us all about it, Mr. Mallard," said Miss Penny : "would not you like to hear all about Cresshampton, Mrs. Adams, and the new Curate?" Mr. Mallard looked very wise, and repeated just what he had said before, but Miss Penny after putting various questions to him, found he knew nothing more; "Well," she said at last, "I'm sorry we are to lose Mr. Beville; nobody could preach a better discourse to please me, and do you know, Mrs. Adams, he told my sister Withers that he had had instruction in elocution and been taught to preach by a player. In my

opinion, Mr. Clare, the new Rector, is nothing of a preacher, to Mr. Beville. His sermons were perfect; so short and such poetical language, and such tender appeals to the heart! And then he is so handsome, and so genteel, and he does not set his face against innocent amusements, as some people are said to do. I danced with him at our assembly once, and I'm sure I never had a pleasanter partner." "When was that, Miss?" inquired Mr. Mallard. "Last October, sir; you were there, wern't you, sir? my sister Withers was lady patroness.” “Oh! I remember you were all night in the card-room, for you love a rubber of whist; and so Mr. Beville is really going: heigh ho! well I don't know where they will find a better preacher, or a greater favourite in the parish."

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My husband says that Mr. Beville's sermons were not so true to the

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old Mr. Holt's

bible," said Mrs. Adams, as poor were.' (6 Why, Mrs. Adams, you make me smile : not so good as the old Rector's!" The conversation was here suddenly turned to Mr. Clare, who was espied by the restless glance of Miss Penny, as he passed down the street; and then his preaching, and his manners, and his family, and his age, and many other topics relating to him were discussed. Miss Penny Clackshaw being the chief speaker, and Mrs. Adams feeling more and more ashamed of herself, from the interest she took in the conversation; there is no occasion to detail what they said. There has been enough of their Sunday evening's amusement already set before you.

Ir is, I think, the remark of the amiable Elizabeth Smith, that "To be good and disagreeable, is high treason against virtue." Mrs. Hilton was thought to be very good, nay, righteous overmuch, but she was not pronounced disagreeable. Those who knew little of the prophet Daniel, or any other scripture character, pronounced the same judgment upon her that was pronounced against the prophet, though not exactly in the same words; they could find no occasion nor fault against her, except concerning the law of her God. They could find no fault with her temper, no fault with her manners, and no fault with her conduct; but she was pronounced to be, according to the peculiar style of language of her censors, "somewhat too sanctified, too much of a saint." They saw not, it never entered into their heads, that those offensive prin

ciples which she held so meekly, but at the same time so resolutely, were the very spring and life of all the gentle virtues, and all the lovely graces; for which they could not help loving and admiring her.

The religion of God's Holy Book is distinguished from the religion of many of his professed disciples by the absence of every thing like affectation. The language of the saints whose lives are there recorded, is never overstrained. There seems indeed to be a natural propensity in fallen man, to be wise above what is written, and to be righteous over much. Our Lord, when on earth, held up to exposure and reprobation, all such pharisaical pretensions and display; but as then, so at the present time, this sort of overstrained godliness, or affectation of godliness, might be pointed out not only as belonging to hollow-hearted and inconsistent professors, but to weak disciples. The truly wise and excellent Mr. Scott, when commenting on these words of the inspired preacher, "Be not righteous overmuch, neither make thyself overwise," has said with that admirable good sense which distinguishes his writings, "There are many parts and appearances of religion, which may be carried to a pernicious extreme. A man may be too tenacious of insignificant forms, or human inventions; he may pretend to kinds and degrees of righteousness, which the Scriptures do not require, laying much stress on celibacy, fastings, and other austerities;

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his boldness and zeal may verge towards rashness and rage; his conscientiousness may degenerate into superstition and scrupulousness; his benevolence into indiscretion and indiscriminate profusion; and his candour and good nature into folly: and in affecting to be acquainted with the whole of divine truth, he may become presumptuously curious, and intrude into unrevealed things." Such was not the religion of Mrs. Hilton. I once asked a venerable old clergyman, who had been regarding her in fixed and silent attention for some considerable time, what opinion he had formed about her : his reply was given in a few words, "To be spiritually-minded is life and peace."

While Miss Penny Clackshaw was wasting her own time, and that of her neighbour's, Mrs. Adams, in idle gossipping, Mr. and Mrs. Hilton were spending the evening of the day of hallowed rest in a very different manner. The room in which they and their children were sitting, opened upon a large and pleasant garden, and the glass door and the windows were wide open. Mrs. Hilton and her little daughter Mary were conversing together near the window." Did you always like Sunday better than any other day of the week, mother?" said the little girl." No, Mary, I did not, but I might ask you a question, which will shew you the reason of my answering No. Did you always like to do the will of God, better than your own will?" Mary looked grave, and said, "Mother, you know that I