"It is God's interpretation, not mine; and it appears that of all you take for granted, nothing is the fact."

"You advise me, then, not to go to the sacrament to-morrow?"

"That I would still leave to yourself. I would not lead you superstitiously to suppose, that by going in this state to the sacrament, you place yourself in worse condition than you are in if you stay away. For whether when bidden you refuse to come, or whether coming you refuse to wear the dress appointed for the guests, the act of disobedience is pretty much the same. But as the case appears with you at this time, I would rather see you, self-convicted and ashamed, retiring from the table as an unmeet guest, than in bold self-confidence, coming forward to offer to God the little remnant of your heart that the world has not engrossed, the refuse of time and spirits you have been able to snatch from the exhaustion of pleasure, professing things you do not mean, and asking blessings you cannot in conscience expect to receive. He to whom it was said, 'Friend, how camest thou in hither,' had no better portion in the feast, than they who sent excuses. I need scarcely ask my Emma's determination."

"Indeed, Mamma," answered Emma, "you

have much need to ask, or rather to tell me; for I am much in doubt. I have given a large portion of time this week to the examination of my own heart, and I find little in it that encourages me to go. I have been listening attentively to all you have said to my sisters, and have heard much that condemns me also, to absence from this holy ceremony. With all my endeavours to keep in mind my Saviour's mercies, I am perpetually forgetting them; with all the warmth of gratitude I, at some times, fancy that I feel, I am oftener disobedient, cold, neglectful; and though I should say I believe in Christ, when it appears how little consistent with that belief my actions are, it makes me doubtful if I do so or not. If sorrow for sin be repentance, I have repented; but if, as you say, amendment be a part, I am not sure; for perhaps I shall not amend; and with respect to the state of my passions, as it regards my fellow-creatures, all I have learned by the close examination of every word and feeling is, that my heart is full of selfishness and insubordination. I am certainly as little worthy to intrude myself as my sisters."

'My dear Emma, it was not to the worthy the invitation was sent, but to the sincere and contrite. You are right when you say you are no more worthy than your sisters to appear; but there is this difference. When two things were held out to you, you gave the preference to the invitation

of your Lord; when you saw what occupations were likely to interfere with your devotion, you put them aside; when you perceived of what unhallowed passions your mind was susceptible, you avoided the occasions of exciting them: so far you proved an honest desire to partake worthily the benefits of this holy cowmunion. The result of all your examination and all your preparation is, that you find yourself absolutely unworthy as to the past, and absolutely helpless as to the future. Such the result should be, and such it must be. But has this discovery made you feel less disposed or less desirous to go to the sacrament?"

"On the contrary, Mamma, it makes me more so; for the deeper grows the consciousness of my ill-deserts, the more precious becomes every emblem of redeeming mercy, the more welcome every record and remembrance of Jesus' love. If I before thought it desirable for me to be a partaker of the body and blood of Christ, and of the benefits received by them, I now know it to be necessary; for I cannot do without it. Ill-dressed, unclothed, unfitted as I am, I should like to go and try if the Master of the feast will admit me, and help me to provide myself a better garment; for I believe that none but He can weave it."

"Then, my dearest Emma, though I do not tell you you are better than your sisters, or that your

conduct this week is sufficient to prove the reality of your faith, or the sincerity of your professions, for that is known only to Him who reads the heart, I do not hesitate to advise you to do as you desire; in humble confidence that He who has invited you to his feast, will graciously receive you, and enable you to be what he requires."

The Sabbath morning dawned with more than usual brightness. The three sisters went together to their parish church; fancy might say the step of one was lighter than the rest: certain it is that one only accepted the Invitation.

No. XIX.

LENT.

Ce n'est rien, que le jeûne des viandes grossierès qui nourrissent le corps, si on ne jeûne aussi de tout ce qui sert d'aliment à l'amour propre.

FÉNÉLON.

THE eye that has long been accustomed to look upon the scene around us, has become familiar with its minutest peculiarities, reconciled to its deformities, and sated with its charms, can form but a very imperfect idea of the effect of that same scene on one who has never looked on it before. It is thus in every thing we lose the general effect, in too close intimacy with the minute particulars The painter feels this, when he has sat hour by nour over the laboured canvass, retouching every feature, measuring every line, till the effect as a whole is so entirely lost to him, he is obliged to remove it for a time out of his sight, or have recourse to the judgment of another. The poet feels it, when, having selected word by word