ness; I should very likely have taken | The murmuring streamlet winds clear through the cold had I sat still in my wet clothes." Who can tell how often he is guided for good in seasons of difficulty! What matters it if a midge or a mountain turns us from danger, or a black ant is the means of preserving us from evil! In either case we are indebted to the goodness of our heavenly Father; and we can never sufficiently praise and magnify his holy name. It is truly wondrous what hilarity, exercise, fresh air, and liberty call forth. I went on by the side of the lake, with a sprig of heather in my bosom, and a spirit of joyousness in my heart, now plucking a bunch of nuts or a wild raspberry; now gazing with delight on the silvery water, the yellow gowans, the green furze, and the purple heather, and now bursting into a hymn of thanksgiving : Almighty Lord! I love thee more Loch Raunoch is a fine sheet of water. I cannot say that eleven miles of unislanded, unbroken crystal are presented at once to the eye, because there are two or three islands in the loch, but these are not seen as you look along it from the east end. Wandering along the sides of the water is like walking in a continued pleasure-ground, so beautiful are the varied scenes presented to the view. The mountains around, though of considerable elevation, are not among those which are remarkable, always excepting Schehallian. Ben Lowers is too far off to assert his supremacy. Loch Ericht, sixteen miles long, which lies a little to the northward of Loch Raunoch, presents a desolate picture to the eye. A shooting-lodge and the hut of a shepherd are the only objects which relieve the dreary loneliness that reigns around. Its upper end is near the lonely inn of Dalwhinie, and touches upon the region of Badenoch, in Invernesshire. Ben Vollich lifts up his head to the south of it, and Ben Aulder to the west. The cave in which the young Chevalier Prince Charles hid himself from the king's troops is near the southern extremity. What must have been his emotions, pent up in that dreary den, well knowing that his pursuers were hunting for his life. The poet has put these words into his mouth: "The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning, vale; The hawthorn trees blow in the dew of the morning, And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale: Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none: But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn, At one of the villages through which I passed, the windows of the shops quite amazed me with their gaiety. Cloths of different colours, shining buttons, articles of dress and cutlery-where the buyers were to come from I did not know. In most of the cottages I could see the ladder by which the inmates ascended to their dormitory. At a little inn were assembled part of Lord Mexborough's sporting party. The room into which the traveller is shown in most of the small inns is usually at once a sitting-room, a parlour, a dressing-room, and a bed-room. The beds are curtained off in wooden recesses at the sides of the room, and a comb or two and a small looking-glass lie in the window. Children run about in kilts, and every one talks in Gaelic. A simple pretty little stone tenement, to the north of Loch Raunoch, quite took my fancy as I passed by it. With eight windows and a door to the front, a plantation of firs on one side, a beautifully romantic hill on the other, with here and there a few ornamental bushes; it presented a charming appearance, commanding as it did a view of the Loch and the mountains Schehallien, Ben Lowers, and Ben Doran. Happiness, however, is not secured by stone tenements, and plantations, and romantic hills, and fair prospects; though these in themselves are agreeable possessions. A contented heart looking backwards with thankfulness, forwards with hope, and upwards with confidence, can do either with or without them. Oh what a priceless blessing is that of a grateful heart!-it not only brightens the bright and beautifies the beautiful, but makes also the barren heath fruitful, and the dry rock to gush out with crystal streams. As I walked on, it still rained, when, very opportunely, the postman to George's Town drove up in a one-horse cart, and asked me to ride. I mounted his cart, but as it had no springs, its motion over the rough road was very uncomfortable. The rain, too, came down faster, so that sending on my carpet-bag by the postman to the inn at George's Town, with a message bidding them prepare comforts for a coming guest, I left the cart, and again proceeded on foot. At the west end of Loch Raunoch, being sadly wet, I took shelter in a plantation, passing for that purpose through a large white gate leading to an elegant mansion in a park. Here I stood for little less than an hour, till the branches of the trees seemed rather to conduct the rain to me, than to defend me from it. I then approached a low straw-roofed shed, the front of which had been recently tarred over; but no sooner did I enter it, than, by the abyss below, I saw that the place was intended either for an icehouse, or something of the kind: there was just room for me to stand under the roof in a stooping posture. What ridiculous positions are men sometimes placed in there was I, crouching in the narrow entrance of the shed, trying to shelter myself from the rain, and to avoid coming in contact with the tarred boards, with a reasonable apprehension of the danger of falling backwards into the abyss; the bottom of which, on account of the gloom, I could not see. What greatly added to the uneasiness of my situation was the circumstance that the lawn windows of the mansion commanded a direct view of my house of refuge, and continually was I imagining that some tall serving-man in livery, or some bluff dictatorial butler would be put in commission to order me off the premises, or, what would be still worse, to invite me, in my dripping state, down to the hall. I did not long remain in such humiliating circumstances, but sallied forth through the rain to reach the place of my destination. quod attentive as they were respectful, and as modest as they were good-looking. Lord Mansfield has a shooting-box near the place, and two of his keepers, who were at the inn, had with them three or four couples of white pointers, by far the largest and finest formed dogs of the kind I had ever seen. CHRISTIAN HOPE. THIS hope is, first, a well-grounded expectation, founded on infallible promises, confirmed by an inviolable oath. This hope is, secondly, a purifying principle: "He that hath this hope purifieth himself, even as God is pure.' This hope is, thirdly, the Christian's anchor: "Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast." An anchor, when in use, is invisible: being immersed in the water, it is not seen, but felt. So it is with the hope of the Christian: it reaches "within the veil," and takes hold of unseen realities of promises unfulfilled, but which are as sure as the throne of God itself. A man beholding a ship lying at anchor, weathering a storm-and not knowing it had an anchor-might wonder at its steadiness: so do men of the world wonder and gaze at the firmness of the martyrs; and, not seeing their "Anchor," are tempted to call their fortitude obstinacy. conflicts are seriously felt; but, under At length I came to the stone bridge over the river at the west end of Locho Raunach, which bore the inscription, d "Tay Brige, 291. Built by Sir Niel Mensies, Bart, and the Trustees of the Estate of Strowian." And directly after entered sa Tylalline Inn, kept by John Mac Donald. Here I was waited on with much assiduity by Jane and Ann Mac Donald daughters of the aforesaid John M Donald two bonnie lasses, of whom may with truth be said, they wer What at one time would create a smule, though our very souls, Instead of hav ce far pen, hich rded, were e were these ontorted, would be ge branch the ground; of a forest, and the loud rumble of the moving wheel Ft 4 moment we will reverse our in some degree affect us by their aniston and instead of witnessing tion; but they are common to us, and departure of a friend by the railroad have little individual interest in our eyes rige or the ship, we will stand in the A vessel outward bound is leaving the atitude of expectancy, anxious awaitharbour; a few spectators are astmed an arrival. The railroad train upon the pier, and we are among the ashes; it cannot come no fast, for it ber. The breeze is blowing, the songs as one whom our arms and our are gently rising and falling, and a fer bars are open to receive. Welcome its sea gulls are winging their way along the sing, its panting, its loud shack, and surface of the mighty deep. We thundering wheels. The shop that led deer," the sailors as they get the ship mire now at hand, has on board a belered the still more weigh, and at the few passegend who for years has resided abroad, great distance, remain on the deck. The wind has now returning home to gladder ches. We able, the white sails are spread, and the hearth. How slowly the vessel the wood-once a vessel pursues her onward couts, ie Sly she is becalmed on the water lane led past a be to the east or the west-so mase she is nearer now she has reached to a wide space, We have no friends among Among those who are stendith brushwood, and gers, and no bale of merchadeck we discover the beloved cleared and open;gies and hearts are running over wham Beeches. ism at a distance from homevising, leads to the wide ph in a newspaper of lonely, so secluded, so ware that broke out in the a spot, we did not expect. da dweling-hour where trees, whose leafless the announcement but barkless trunks proclaimed there is a do or perhaps, the effects of rose up like huge skeletons e underwood. A deep-wooded the left, as we entered the B: meme with a rough pathway down it, hway it may be called, struck us as very picturesque ;-it evidently to the depths of the wood, of which were on the outskirts. But the beeches! how shall we describe them? There are several-we did count them-of wonderful dimen, and strange yet imposing appearSuch trees we never saw before; we see, as it were, the very flare of the flames, and hear the crash of the falling timbers. Before, our composure was unruffled; but now, our hearts are harrowed with the most distracting apprehensions! A country village, with its scattered houses and cottages, its spacious green, and large oak tree; its church on the hill, and the "establishment for young gentlemen," a stone's cast or two from the turnpike-road, presents a pleasant picture to the eye; but how abundantly does such a scene rise in interest, if we have not seen it for years, and it happens to be the place where our youthful days were passed! In that school we were educated; in that church we assembled at the sound of the sabbath bells; from that oak we gathered acorns in our boyhood; on that green we gambolled, and in that running brook we slaked our thirst, and bathed our burning brows! How the past rushes on our hearts! the days of our boyhood come back again, and surround us with our accustomed playmates. Old half-forgotten friendships and affections arise within us,-we gaze around with excited emotions, our pulses throb, and our eyes are filled with tears. Many a felon who has suffered at Newgate, has passed by its massy walls a hundred times without fear. Imagine one of these, callous with crime, hardened in iniquity, coming up Snow-hill while St. Sepulchre's bell is tolling. Hardly does he hear it; and if he does, he regards it not. What cares he for St. Sepulchre's, or St. Sepulchre's bell!-the toll has no meaning in it. On he goes, reckless and undaunted. But now suppose, as a convicted malefactor, in the condemned cell of Newgate, he has been awakened from a perturbed slumber, by the tolling of St. Sepulchre's bell, on the morning of his execution. Does he disregard the bell now?-has it no meaning in it, think you? Why every word of its iron tongue speaks of shame and agony, and death and judgment, in thundering accents, and the sound enters into his very soul! He knows that the clamorous harbinger of death is announcing his own doom, and that an assembled multitude are awaiting his appearance on the scaffold. Every stroke of the clapper of St. Sepulchre's bell now goes crashing through his brain. An infidel, an unbeliever in God's holy word, a despiser of the gospel of Jesus Christ, may regard a place of Divine wor | ship with derision. He may point to such a building as a monument of ignorance, superstition, and fanaticism, and make merry at the expense of the lowly followers of the Redeemer; but, if in God's providence he should be led by curiosity or a more censurable motive, to enter a place of worship, and the High and Holy One should send an arrow through his heart-if the text of him who ministers in holy things, be this: "Thou art the man ;" or, "Be sure your sin will find you out;' or, "The soul that sinneth, it shall die;" attended with a hallowed influence that should bring him on his knees, and be followed by conviction, repentance, and exulting faith, till his heart, as well as his lip cries out, not only "God be merciful to me a sinner," but also, "My Lord and my God!" then will he regard the same temple that he before despised with affection, reverence, and thankfulness; and be ready to exclaim: "How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God," Psa. lxxxiv. 1, 2. Hardly can anything be clearer than the fact, that we derive pleasure and pain from the same scenes, and that we are influenced less by the things around us, than we are by the associations we attach to them. When a Bible is seen lying on the table near us, we regard it as a sacred book. Habit, education, a knowledge of its awful and glorious contents, and a deep conviction of its truth, invest it with reverence. But let the blessed book, instead of being anybody's Bible, be our Bible, and the Bible of our parents before us, with their names written in it, on the fly-leaf, and their marks opposite the texts that affected them. Let us call to memory that they read it in joy and in sorrow, rejoiced over it, wept over it, prayed over it, and that it was as oil to their joints and marrow to their bones,and we regard it with affection as well as with reverence. Plain as it may appear in its time-worn leathern cover, we would not part with it for one in morocco and gold, nor for any other Bible in the world. We open its sacred pages with emotion, and eagerly turn with a vehement joy to the soul-sustaining text, that has opposite to it a double cross: "This God is our God for ever and ever; he will be our guide even unto death," Psa. xlviii. 14. M. BURNHAM BEECHES. the leafy arms of trees casting a deep shade below, and intercepting the scorching rays of the sun. Here and there, as the lane wound along, sweet rural spots opened to our view, such as Gainsborough has so beautifully illustrated with his magic pencil-little nooks, vistas in the woodland scenery-gleams of light contrasted with sombre shadows, On the borders of a wild wood, once evidently far more extensive than at present, and close to the edge of a rough common or open pasturage, about two miles and a half from the village of Burnham, are several extraordinary beech-trees of great antiquity, which have recently attracted considerable at--breaks in the masses of foliage, through tention. We paid a short time since a visit to this secluded and romantic woodland spot, which is distant from the railroad station at Maidenhead about five miles, and as much from that at Slough, lying northward of the "line," and nearly intermediate between the stations in question. which the blue sky smiled. Frequently, the chattering blackbird crossed the road on rapid wings, and plunged into the obscure coppice; the startled rabbit shot into its hole, and the wood-pigeon dashed along the glade. After some time, the road began suddenly to ascend, and in the distance before us a dark wood stretched far away. The lane was now more open, but occasionally huge beech-trees, which had at some distant date been pollarded, attracted our notice-the trunks were short, but of vast thickness-some were hollow, and the bark was gnarled; these short trunks were strangely contorted, and were crowned with what would be called large trees, had each huge branch risen itself immediately from the ground; Stopping at the Maidenhead station, we first proceeded to the village of Burnham, a quiet, interesting little place, with a very fine old church, situated on elevated ground, whence may be seen a lovely prospect of the country towards Windsor Forest. The reapers were busy in the corn-fields, and the lark sung overhead as we walked along. Several species of blue Butterflies (genus, Polyommatus) fluttered along the banks, and played in our path, revel--they were the relics of a forest, ling in the glowing sun. Several times we disturbed the bright-eyed little lizard basking half-concealed by the tangled brambles and rough herbage of the hedgerows, and vanishing with marvellous promptitude on our near approach; the moment we advanced our hand, there was a slight rustle, and it was gone. Various wild flowers, some of singular beauty, on every side, claimed our passing admiration ;—the bees were passing from one to another, and half hiding themselves in the painted petals; -and the butterflies danced over them on their fluttering fans. Some trailed over the hedgerow banks, some grew by the pathway, unfolding their whorl of blossoms, and others stood conspicuous in the standing corn, with azure disks: "where bounded the startled deer,"and they prepared us for the still more mighty relics, now at no great distance, --the Burnham Beeches. We now neared the borders of the wood-once a vast forest-and the lane led past a farm-house, and on to a wide space, partially covered with brushwood, and trees, and partially cleared and open;here rose the Burnham Beeches. The road descends through them, and then, suddenly rising, leads to the wide common. So lonely, so secluded, so wildly sylvan a spot, we did not expect. Here and there trees, whose leafless branches and barkless trunks proclaimed their age, or perhaps, the effects of lightning, rose up like huge skeletons amidst the underwood. A deep-wooded dell on the left, as we entered the arena, with a rough pathway down it, if pathway it may be called, struck us as being very picturesque ;-it evidently led to the depths of the wood, of which we were on the outskirts. But the beeches! how shall we describe them? There are several—we did not count them-of wonderful dimensions, and strange yet imposing appearance. Such trees we never saw before; |