they have their sorrows, as all must have in this life, since man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards,' yet the testimony of a good conscience towards God and towards man, must impart a calmness and a peace of which the afflictions of this world can never deprive them.

"Upon this, I determined to become religious. I resolved to be very charitable, to visit the poor people near here occasionally, and to endeavour to alleviate their wants. I thought I would be regular in my attendance at church, read only religious books on Sundays, pay no visits on that day, and perhaps when I was a little older, receive the sacrament occasionally. I gave up the amusements I had found so deceitful, and was again secluded and domesticated, though living in such a place as London; I became a subscriber to many of the benevolent and religious institutions which are so numerous in this city, in short, I resolved no effort should be wanting on my part for the attainment of solid and lasting happiness.

"But now I am still more unhappy. I call to mind the countless sins of my past life, my sins of omission and of commission, my sins of ignorance, and my sins against knowledge, and while I resolve to amend, I am most anxious to know how my former transgressions may be blotted out. I begin too, to feel the insufficiency of my present good works; my conscience accuses me of wandering thoughts and foolish imaginations while in the

house of God;-of prayers offered up to him with my lips, while my heart is far from him ;-of numberless sins in thought, and word, and deed, and the language of David, is also mine, If thou, O Lord! art extreme to mark what is done amiss,O Lord! who may abide it?' I examined myself by the commandments of God, but when I thought upon the last, and perceived that it extended to the very thoughts of the heart, I was convinced of the spirituality of the law and the immensity of its requirements, and when I think of the vain and sinful imaginations which pollute my best actions, when I remember how far I am from loving the Lord God with all my heart, I feel that I am justly exposed to his wrath and indignation. Sometimes I try to pray, but I feel that I do not know how to address that holy and terrible God whom I have offended, and my only language is the tear of repentance, my only prayer the sigh of contri

tion.

"In vain I resolve to amend, every effort is fruitless, evil thoughts will intrude, as though they were natural to me; and certainly none have ever experienced the depravity and corruption which I find in my heart. Though I constantly attend church, I hear nothing to comfort me, for Mr. Cyril only speaks of the happiness which a consciousness of having done our duty imparts-a happiness which I never knew; but the prayers of the church speak the very language of my heart.

Most truly can I join in the confession of sin, for I feel that I have indeed 'erred and strayed from the right way, like a lost sheep,' and that there is no/health' in me; and fervently do I pray for 'that peace," which I know by bitter experience, 'the world cannot give.' Sometimes I feel a sweet hope that such peace will one day be mine, though I do not know how it is to be obtained, and at such times I have a transient feeling of something like happiness, which, however, quickly flies, and leaves me again to doubt and fear.

I am coming to you for comfort, Jane, you must point out to me the way of peace. My Bible informs me that the Saviour of mankind: atoned for the sins of the world by his death, but then my sins are so many, and so great-my present corruptions continually adding to the number, that I scarcely dare hope for mercy. You, my dear sister, have been religious from a child, you retain all those instructions of our beloved mother, which I was too young to comprehend, and I am sure you are happy. You must teach me all that I ought to know, for you are the only friend I have that can enter into my feelings, you are the only one in whom I can confide. Till we meet, adieu, dear Jane, pray for

Your very affectionate,tes!

"EMILY LANDOR.

"This letter," said Leslie, when he had con

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cluded it, gives me an idea of Miss Landor dif ferent from that I had before formed."

"It certainly differs very much from all that I have hitherto received from her," replied Mrs. Westbury, "her former letters contain much gaiety, but very little thoughtfulness, and I imagined from that circumstance, that Emily was as gay and unthinking as the generality of young people'

I recollect, her disposition when a child was remarkably lively; but she went to school soon after she was ten years old, and since then we have only been together at the vacations. She came home when I left London, and my father promised that she should soon spend some months at Elmwood; but she has never been permitted to do so until now that our mutual entreaties have obtained his consent."

"Then, of course," said Leslie, "as you have passed so little time with each other during the last few years, you cannot be intimately acquainted· with her disposition. How old is Miss Landor?" JS Seventeen," answered Mrs. Westbury.

י,

"I hope," observed Leslie, thoughtfully, that her visit to Elmwood many have a beneficial result. She appears anxious to know the truth." ... He was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Westbury', who exclaimed, with a smile, as he glanced at the open letter in Mr. Leslie's hand, "What correspondent is that, Leslie, whose merits you seem to be discussing ?"

"This is a letter from Miss Landor," replied he," which Mrs. Westbury has permitted me to read."

"Will you extend that permission to me, Jane ?" asked Mr. Westbury.

"Willingly," returned she, and accordingly he read it, evidently with much interest.

"Poor girl," said he, returning the letter to Mrs. Westbury," she seems very unhappy; I am glad she is coming here, since I hope she will be taught the right and the only way of peace.' If I may judge from Emily's description, the clergyman, whose ministry she attends, is not one of those who preach the 'glad tidings' of the gospel, with faithfulness."

"Unhappily he is not :" answered Mrs. Westbury; "his predecessor was a most excellent man in every respect, both his public and private character were irreproachable; but after his death, the living was bestowed upon a gentleman whose principles differ very widely from those of Mr. Norman, though his conduct is moral and unblameable."

"We must try whether our Mr. Percy's preaching will not suit her," said Mr. Westbury," and if she hears his public instructions on Sundays, and has the benefit of your private admonitions, Leslie, during the week, I trust, by the grace of God, she will return to London, possessed of that 'peace, which passeth all understanding.""