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now applied myself to the study of philosophy, under a Greek master, and all my ambition was directed towards letters. But ambition is not quite enough to fill a young man's heart. I still felt a void there, and sighed as I reflected on the happiness of my friend. At the time when I visited the object of my first love, a young Christian woman, her frequent companion, had sometimes taken up my attention. She was an Ionian, by birth, and had all the softness and pensive intelligence which her countrywomen are said to possess when unvitiated by the corruptions so prevalent in that delightful region. You are no stranger to the contempt with which the Greeks then treated, and do still, in some places, treat the Christians. This young woman bore that contempt with a calmness which surprised me. There were then but few converts to that religion in those parts, and its profession was therefore more exposed to ridicule and persecution from its strangeness. Notwithstanding her religion, I thought I could love this interesting and amiable female, and, in spite of my former mistake, I had the vanity to imagine I was not indifferent to her. As our intimacy increased, I learned, to my astonishment, that she regarded me as one involved in ignorance and error: and that, although she felt an affection for me, yet she would never become my wife, while I remained devoted to the religion of my ancestors. Piqued at this discovery, I received the books, which she now for the first time put into my hands, with pity and contempt. I expected to find them nothing but the repositories of a miserable and deluded super

stition, more presuming than the mystical leaves of the Sibyls, or the obscure triads of Zoroaster. How was I mistaken! There was much which I could not at all comprehend; but in the midst of this darkness, the effect of my ignorance, I discerned a system of morality, so exalted, so exquisitely pure, and so far removed from all I would have conceived of the most perfect virtue, that all the philosophy of the Grecian world seemed worse than dross in the comparison. My former learning had only served to teach me that something was wanting to complete the systems of philosophers. Here that invisible link was supplied, and I could even then observe a harmony and consistency in the whole which carried irresistible conviction to my mind. I will not enlarge on this subject. Christianity is not a mere set of opinions to be embraced by the understanding. It is the work of the heart as well as the head. Let it suffice to say that, in time, I became a Christian, and the husband of Sapphira.

KIRKE WHITE.

MARGARET.

MARGARET had arranged every thing after her frugal dinner was finished, and she sat down to work at her cottage window. She had worked some time, when her little girl, who was then playing near her, asked her to walk out. "Wait a little while, my love," said Margaret; "wait till I have finished my work, and we will go." The little girl was shortly repaid for the patience

with which she sat down near her mother, quietly waiting till she was ready. They were soon on the smooth seashore. It was a clear calm afternoon in October; the clouds, which had rendered the morning wet and gloomy, had passed away, and the sun shone brightly on the gently agitated waves, which bore every now and then to the sparkling pebbly shore (and left there frequently) their fringe of surf and seaweeds. They lingered long by the seaside, for Margaret thought there was a distant chance of her husband's boat returning earlier than usual. "My father will not come yet, mother," said her little girl, "if you are looking for him."-" No, he will not, my dear," answered Margaret, who had stood, forgetful of every thing else, gazing on the sea; "We will go home." They returned, and Margaret sat again with her work, by the open window, singing cheerfully to her child. At last she found that her eyes became a little wearied, and the light was growing dim; on looking out of the window, she perceived that the sun was sinking into the western waves: no little snowy sail, however, appeared in the distance; she put her child to bed; she left the bedroom door partly open, and sang very softly; the smiling child soon fell asleep, hearing only, for a short time, her mother's sweet voice. Margaret ceased singing, for it became darker. The sun had quite set, and a long broken line of crimson light alone blended with the dark lead-coloured ocean; the same hue melted into the dusky sky. It grew darker and darker: Margaret leaned her whole head out of the window, and strained her sight;

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but she could now see nothing.

Turning her

head partly round, she listened; but even the faint breeze, which had curled the waves so slightly, had died away; the dull sudden dash of the heavy billows, as they fell upon the shore, was alone heard by her. "What a delightful evening," said the affectionate wife, as she saw the bright beacon flame sparkle into light: "Oh, he will soon be home." She shut the window, stirred the dull embers of her fire, and put on a fresh pile of turf; she lit her candle, and placed it on the window, that the light might assist the blazing fire to illumine the room. She always lighted her cottage windows, to make them a beacon to her husband.-Margaret sat down again, and began to grow a little anxious; there were many books lying on the table; but, though one that she had been reading was still open, she felt that she could not, that she dared not open any book but the Bible; she opened it hastily and gladly almost angry with herself for having thought of reading any other. She turned to the second chapter of Jeremiah, and her eye wandered over the page, till it rested on the twentyfifth verse. "Yet thou sayest, because I am innocent, surely his anger will turn from me; behold, I will plead with thee, because thou sayest, I have not sinued." She stopped and sighed deeply; for she remembered that she had, but a few days before, felt a sort of false pride and confidence in herself, because, in recalling her past life, she did not remember having committed any crime. "I had quite forgotten," she said to herself, "I had quite forgotten how often

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I had been ungrateful to God; how often I have been unjust to my neighbour, and ill tempered; and how far I have fallen short of the divine example, which my Saviour has given me."

She continued sad and thoughtful, regarding nothing, till, as the abstraction of her mind slowly dissipated, she was roused by the unwearied clicking of the clock, which, with that faint noise, we are unable to account for, in a dying fire, alone broke upon the perfect stillness of every thing around her; her eyes had been unconsciously fixed upon the dial; she had only now noticed the lateness of the hour, and starting up, she again made up the fire, and opened the window. The beacon no longer twinkled brightly, she saw only a dull red spot, which grew gradually fainter, and at last entirely vanished. Snatching up the candle, she went out, but a lurid halo encircled its flame as she held it over her head and looked around; a deep fog was becoming thicker, she could hardly distinguish the blaze which brightened her cottage windows: slowly and sadly she returned, listening as she walked back; but no voice, no step was heard. Many, many fears rushed over her mind; and no hope, that she could be of any use to her husband came with those fears: in a storm, she could have depended upon the beacon being seen: she could now do nothing; her cottage could not be left with her unprotected child; and with the fear of not being able to return through the fog, she could not carry out her child with her, when even to guide her own steps would be a task of difficulty and danger. The surges sounded more

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