Christian heaven. Love, integrity, disinterestedness, these, blending together, make a consciousness that crowns me with immortality; I do not say very brightly so, but certainly.

MARHAM.

Is not that, Oliver, -is not that pride, or what may end in it?

AUBIN.

No, uncle; indeed it is not. For in this way, when I feel myself immortal without thinking of it, I clasp my hands, and sometimes I kneel and lay my forehead to the ground, worshipping God, because I am made to feel justly and holily and lovingly. And because I love along with God, along with God I am sure I shall live. And so every man I love makes me feel myself immortal. And something of the same experience is worked in me by reading a good book, or hearing of a right action, and by the sight of any thing beautiful or sublime in nature.

Who see the blind worm creeping, yet believe not

That even that is left without a path.-LEOPOLD SCHEFER.

MARHAM.

You are not well this evening, Oliver.

AUBIN.

No, uncle, I am not.

MARHAM.

Not very unwell, I hope; though you do look so, Oliver. What have you seen, or heard, or been thinking? Dear Oliver, something has distressed you, I think.

AUBIN.

No, uncle. Only I have been thinking over my life before I knew you.

MARHAM.

Too painful for you, in your weak state, to think of. But it was for the best for you, we are sure. But I, I ought not to be saying it, I know. That I ever lost sight of you is what I can never forgive myself.

AUBIN.

Now, uncle, I am distressed, or I shall be

Of all your many sufferings, I cannot retrieve What your lot in life has been, it has been. And what it is to be will not be as happy as I

one.

could wish, and as I would make it, only that your health But, indeed, had I found you

earlier, things might have been different.

AUBIN.

Uncle, uncle, you have been very good to me, and you are. And believe me, uncle, that I am very happy. For this is only nervous weakness.

MARHAM.

But, O, Oliver, only to think

AUBIN.

Uncle, I quite agree with something of Jean Paul's which I have seen, somewhere.

And what is it?

MARHAM.

AUBIN.

That if God were to show himself to us in the distribution of the suns, and in what makes our

tears fall, and in the abysses, of which he is the fulness, and himself the bounds, we should not be willing to say to him, "Be other than thou art."

MARHAM.

It is rightly and beautifully said, very beautifully. But, Oliver, my dear Oliver, I am very sorry for you. But it is such a pleasure to me that I have never heard you murmur !

AUBIN.

I hope not to be impatient. I hope to be patient. God has done with me what is right; and so he will do with me.

MARHAM.

Yes, dear Oliver, so we trust, and so we will believe.

AUBIN.

Yes, uncle, and so I do. God might inclose me in himself, and let me look through the eyes of his omnipresence; and if he did, I should see, in the infinite, the mystic order to which the starry systems move; and in a drop of water, I should witness the roomy space there is for the movements of a thousand lives; I should know the way in which the armies of heaven are placed, and the wise purpose there is in the succession of human generations, as they are born and die. I should look into the mysteries of eternity, and feel that in human suffering God's love is the same as in the blessedness of the angels. I

should see, all round the wide earth, how good all things are in their relation to the everlasting whole. And then, looking up the heights of heaven, and down the depths of life, I should feel the goodness of the universe. And on seeing my own lot left empty amongst men, I should then long to return to it and fill it. Yes, if only for a moment I saw that look which always the universe has to God, I should pray the Father for ever, out of my whole heart and the joy of it, "Thy will be done; thy will be done." I should be happy for one glimpse of what life really is. But I may be happier without it; because through faith we may be more blessed than through our mere eyesight. For a man to see, and so believe, is well; but blessed are they who do not see, and yet believe. Sorrow and pain! I will bear them. Lord! I will bear them. Not yet, O, not yet, would I pray to be taken out of this world! Awhile, awhile longer may this chastening last. Lord! let it end, not when I will, but when thou wilt. O, there are fields in the universe, so wide, and on which God's glory shines brightly and for ever, and, O, so blessedly ! But I would not enter on them yet, not yet. This valley of the shadow of death I will wait in; and I could wish to have the shadow of death on me, till my soul has fully and rightly felt it. A spirit I am, and so is God. And like a spirit