"Beautiful!” exclaimed Esther. "Beautiful! Madame De Staël could appreciate the good when it was associated with genius and refinement. I thank her for vindicating the superiority of sacred over classical poetry. Will you lend me the book for a moment?" De Vane placed it in her hands, and she turned to the notice of poetry, and read: "Groves, flowers, and brooks sufficed for the poets of paganism. The solitude of forests; the ocean without limits; the starry heavens, could hardly express the eternal and the infinite, with which the soul of Christians is filled."

De Vane looked into her face, as if it had been the face of an angel. She replaced the book; and taking the little girl by the hand, bowed to the gentlemen, and left the store. Waring had stood leaning against one of the bookshelves, and had silently observed and heard all that passed between De Vane and Esther. His face wore an expression of sadness, and yet the flush of something like triumph overspread it.

"Waring," said De Vane, "who is Miss Wordsworth?" Waring smiled. "She is, as I have already informed you, a niece of Mrs. Springfield."

"Oh! yes; but give me her history."

"Her history," said Waring, "is a brief one, for she is very young-scarcely seventeen. But let us walk, and I will make you acquainted with it, so far at least as I know it myself."

They turned their steps toward a fine garden in the eastern part of the town, which was open to visitors.

"Miss Wordsworth," said Waring, "is an orphan, and resides with her aunt. Her father was a young Methodist minister, an only brother of Mrs. Springfield, and younger than herself. Thoroughly educated, with cultivated tastes and ample means, he felt it to be his duty to preach the Gospel; and he entered the self-denying, heroic company of men, who are known to the world as Methodist preach

ers. He was a native of Georgia, and he married in the neighborhood of Athens, in that State, a young, accomplished, and beautiful woman, who loved the cause of Christ as well as he did.

"In the fifth year of his ministry he was sent to Savannah, and in September an epidemic appeared, which swept hundreds into eternity. Mr. Wordsworth sent his wife and their child Esther-then four years old-into the country, and devoted himself to the care of the sick and the dying. The eye that saw him bare witness to him, and the ear that heard him drank in the tones of his cheerful voice, and dying lips whispered thanks and blessings. Worn down with fatigue, he contracted the disease, and sank under it. Mrs. Wordsworth, hearing of his illness, hastened to his bedside, and reached him in time to cheer his dying hours. She, too, fell a victim, and in the course of a few days was laid by his side. One of the most beau¬ tiful spots in the cemetery in that city, is that where Edward Wordsworth, and Ellen his wife, sleep side by side; a spot which many feet visit, and upon which many hands yet drop flowers. Esther was taken into the arms and into the heart of Mrs. Springfield, who was childless, and she has resided with her ever since. Masters have been called in to instruct her, and a governess was for four years in the family, but she has never been in a public school. And now you know the history of Miss Wordsworth," said Waring, as they entered one of the broad walks of the garden.

"But does she teach?" asked De Vane. "I suppose that she inherits her father's estate, of course. Why should she teach? "

Waring smiled. "I see, De Vane, that your aristocratic tastes are offended. Yes, she teaches! Some day we will visit her school. It is not very far from here, and lies hidden away in a garden almost as large as this."

Gay groups were seen in the wide grounds, and a fash1onable party promenaded in the walk just before them.

Fruits, flowers, and birds yet rejoiced in the lingering autumn, and the sun shed almost summer splendors over the scene. The two friends took one or two turns through the ground, and then departed for the College.

2

THE next day was Sunday. The morning rose upon the earth in cloudless splendor. The serene heavens seemed to bend nearer to a redeemed world, as if they would embrace and purify it. The mocking-bird poured its joyous song upon the air; and the robin uttered its quick cheerful notes, as it sprang from branch to branch of the Chinatrees, with which the town abounded.

De Vane looked out upon nature, but he turned away and plunged into his books.

Waring went to church, as he did habitually. No studies could tempt him from attending the morning and the evening service.

Upon his return he entered the apartments of De Vane, and found him deep in his studies.

"Where have you been, Waring?”

"Where you should have been,

should have been," replied the other. "I

have been engaged in worshipping that God who made the heavens and the earth-both so bright to-day."

“Ah! Waring, you are a Christian."

"And what are you?" he asked.

"Come, come, sit down," said De Vane," and then you may read me a lecture.”

"De Vane, will you go with me this evening, if I call for you?"

"To go where?" asked De Vane.

"To the Methodist Church. Mr. Springfield is to preach: it was announced this morning."

"Most willingly," replied De Vane; "but to tell you the truth, I never was in a Methodist chapel in my life. To hear Mr. Springfield, however, I will go. I feel quite an interest in him.”

"Very well," said Waring; "I will call for you at seven o'clock. We must go early to find a seat; they are all free, you understand; and Mr. Springfield attracts large congregations."

Punctually at seven Waring called, and they walked to the church, or meeting-house, as it was most frequently called. It was a large framed building, destitute of ornaments, and seated with benches, a rail running down the middle of each row of seats, dividing them; the two sexes being rigidly separated during public worship. The building was already crowded; but Waring being a wellknown member of the church, found a seat for De Vane and himself quite near the pulpit.

As De Vane took his seat, he surveyed the scene; it was new to him. A gallery ran along the end and two sides of the building, for the accommodation of the blacks; and it was filled with them. The pulpit was high above the seats of the building, as if its construction was designed. to impress the hearers with the authority of the preacher. Clusters of candles, hung against the walls, and the pillars which supported the gallery, lighted the house. De Vane was impressed with the air of quiet earnestness, which pervaded the audience, composed mainly of well-dressed