-"Bear up like a man and a soldier under this blow-this is the time to show you are a man.— I think it not impossible but the accident may hereafter have a beneficial effect upon your son.

"How much better that the accident should have happened to the child than to the father-be thankful to the Almighty.-Your daughter is an admirable young woman.

"Your sincere friend,

D-M-"

66 MY DEAR MAJOR,

"The very kind and brotherly part you have taken in my calamity is a real alleviation; for in anguish whatever draws the mind from itself affords relief; and it was impossible for me to read your most friendly letter without admiring the spirit that breathed in every line.

"True, the hour of trial is the practical period for exercised fortitude. I can bear up; because I am prepared not only to lose all in this world, but my own life in a moment. Death is not misery; he alone is happy who is no more; for how can contemplation be serene under the apprehensions that human frailty engenders? My poor girl died, as you

and I have often made up our minds to die-without pain, and flying on hope's wing.—But then it is terrible to think of the accident.—Unfortunate boy! thou art to be pitied-not she! Her angel spirit has gone to her Father above-but what must his reflection awaken, every time he beholds her in the mirror of memory!-True-you are perfectly philosophical in saying that the catastrophe may have a beneficial effect. We cannot think of the consequences of our own rashness and disobedience without humility and sorrow; but happy is he who sails by the experience of others, and not by the tidemarks on those rocks of passion which wrecked him before. I greatly fear the men I left in charge of my house placed the pistols in my boy's way. Oh! how often had I warned that rash child never to touch my fire-arms!- I have written to Mrs. Wilford in my best terms of consolation. I do not attribute blame. Such accidents have occurred; and our calamity might have happened had I been present. I think Mrs. Wilford was right in declining your kind offer respecting my son, Your other proposal was equally in tone with the warm heart that suggested all your kind acts to me; but Mrs.

W can draw as much money as she pleases from my agent in Monaghan. If I could properly apply to business, I would follow your advice, and stay here till I completed all my plans; but what cannot be done well is better suspended till I am myself again. I shall, however, place things in proper train, and if possible, leave this for Mulgatawny on Tuesday next by the Holyhead night coach.-I intended to go to Yorkshire, to see my old friend Smyth; but my arrangements are overwhelmed; and I must run before the storm as my best refuge. My presence at home will cheer my wife; and that should be the main object of a husband.—I am glad my daughter has behaved so as to merit your approbation.-Pray believe me,

"Your gratefully and warmly attached

"H. WILFORD."

It had long been the Nabob's practice in trouble to fly for comfort to the house of God.-There is not in the whole world more appearance of religion than in London. You may go to some place of worship almost every day and every night if you please, as well as on Sunday. The Sabbath day

is, as it should be, a day of rest; no plea of necessity is admitted to authorize deviation; the postoffice is shut; public business goes to prayers; and you hear, from daylight to evening, one continued call to devotion from the steeples. The Nabob went to Bow church, the rector of which is a most venerable-looking, silver-headed man, seventy years old, and still in full possession of the talents and faculties which distinguished him in manhood's prime. The tone of his voice, the earnestness of his manner, the beauty of his style, the correctness of his action, and the excellence of his discourse, make the hearts burn that hear him. You would leave Bow church with an impression that you had heard an approved servant of God-you would even feel as though you had been communicating with the Deity. Monuments of the dead peep from every part of that beautiful edifice, the sacred neighbour of St. Paul's; whose clock tells, in sullen and sublime voice, the march of passing hours, and thrills the hearer, during service, with its deep, dull, supernatural dole over the illustrious dead that sleep beneath the mighty dome, where their sculptured forms stand tangible in speaking marble. Your fles creeps with the stealing tones of the finest organ tl

art can produce, touched by a perfect master. 0 music! who can hear thee without melting like thyself into somewhat celestial! Such was the raptured state of our poor Nabob-softened by his proper grief to the temperature of woman. Judge, then, how comforting it was to his soul for him to be soothed by the reflections of such an able preacher on a text from the 86th Psalm, which contains so much consolation for mental distress.

"Bow down thine ear, O Lord, and hear me: for I am poor, and in misery.

thy servant for unto thee, my soul."

Comfort the soul of

O Lord, do I lift up

It is needless to describe how the venerable man dwelt on the efficacy of prayer, and the tender mercy of God, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. The humbled hearer found that though his affliction was great, he ought to be thankful it was not more calamitous; and he returned to his pillow, convinced that it is the duty of mortality to be resigned to the dispensation of Providence, whose ways are beyond the plummet of man, and all pregnant with utility. In a word, he was in a temper of mind to say, on his knees, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!"