cibly struck with the precept in the text, and instantly sent his wife to ask Dr. Davison, the rector of the parish, to visit him. The Doctor, who appears to have been fonder of hunting than of attending the sick, made his appearance, however; and after surveying the dying man, told him that he could do nothing for him. Smith urged the command in the text, but in vain; the rector answering, "It is no use wasting my time in talking about it, Smith; because the archbishop of X has quite settled the point some time ago; but read your bible,—and, as I have known you for some time to be a good kind of man, I will tell my wife to come and read you a chapter now and then."

Some days after this interview, Smith's wife, who perceived his mental troubles to increase, proposed to call in Mr. Ebenezer, the methodist preacher, whom he had often heard preach; but Smith objected, as he had always come away from Mr. Ebenezer's preachings" with a heart as heavy and as cold as a stone," as he always endeavoured to impress his hearers with the belief that "GOD made some few men to be saved and all the rest to be damned." As a dernier ressort, the poor woman proposed to ask Mr. Oswald, the priest at the Catholic chapel, to pay Smith a visit. She had, she said, heard him preach,-had seen him visit the sick and comfort them, "and who knows (she added) but he might make thee quiet?" Smith consented,-off went his wife in an instant, and father Oswald was soon at his bed-side, anxiously inquiring of Smith if he could be of any use to him.

"Father Oswald was eminent for his great talents, and still more so for his great piety and sanctity; he was a professed father of the Society of JESUS, about fifty, of a fine majestic exterior, and open, engaging countenance; with a peculiar mixture in his deportment and manner of what is calculated to win and to awe, of gentleness and compassion, of zeal and of fervour; but that which forcibly struck even the most casual observer, was the evident superiority and power his spirit maintained over its earthly tenement, and the great sincerity with which he seemed to put to practise the love of GOD, and of his neighbour.

"I have sent for you, sir (said Smith), because I am very wretched. I hope you will forgive me, for I am not a Catholic; but my own clergyman says, he can do nothing for me, and so my wife persuaded me to speak to you.

"She did very well (answered the father); part of my ministry is to visit the sick and comfort the afflicted. Now tell me a little in what way I can serve you."

The result may be anticipated. After being fully instructed, Smith was received into the Church by father Oswald, and in a few weeks

thereafter terminated his mortal career in a mannerworthy of a Christian.

While on one of her numerous visits of charity to Smith's humble cottage, Mrs. Sefton became acquainted with father Oswald. In her future visits, she always sat awhile and listened to his explanations and instructions, and was much surprised to perceive the air of tranquillity and calm which beamed in the every word and look of the dying man after he became a Catholic, contrasted with the restlessness and misery which she had formerly observed in him. She wished she could feel so very certain as the father and Smith seemed to be of the truth of the Catholic faith, that the Church of Rome was the only true Church —but after all, she thought that it was no matter whether one be a Protestant or a Catholic, if good. However, if she should feel more uneasy on the score of religion, she resolved to consult her husband, and perhaps Dr. Davidson.

We are next introduced to Harriet Sefton, a sister of Mr. Sefton's, who had very comprehensive ideas of Christianity, her creed being that it was "little matter of what religion people are, as long as they are Christians and do no harm;" and then to General Russell, a bluff and, we think, rather ill-mannered Catholic gentleman, the uncle of Mrs. Sefton, who arrived, about the time she began to have her misgivings, "from the Peninsula, where he had been absent in the wars" we are told, embracing the whole interval, we presume, between the battle of Vimiera and that of Toulouse, which, with poetical licence, the author makes " more than twenty years."

After many struggles, Mrs. Sefton becomes a Catholic. Mr. Sefton had been absent for some weeks, and it was not till some time after his return home, that he made the discovery, a discovery which made him almost frantic. He immediately left Sefton Hall, taking his children along with him into Devonshire, leaving Mrs. Sefton in a state of mind more easily to be conceived than described. Leaving his children in charge of his sister Harriet, he left England and arrived at Paris just. as the revolution of 1830 was about to break out. Meanwhile, his wife, when able to be removed, was taken to Westwood, the seat of General Russell, her uncle, about ten miles from Sefton Hall.

Before leaving England, Mr. Sefton had written to Dr. Davidson, to use his best efforts to bring back Mrs. Sefton to Protestantism; but the doctor found the lady too well confirmed in her new faith to be shaken by his sophistry, and, backed as she was by her uncle in several controversial tête-à-têtes, the rector soon saw it prudent to beat a

retreat. Nor was an attempt made by the bishop of S- and his wife to subvert the faith of the convert more successful; these failures hastened Mr. Sefton's departure for the Continent.

At Paris Mr. Sefton accidentally met an old acquaintance named Le Sage, the son of a French émigré, who had been born and educated in England, who, observing his melancholy, enquired its cause. After some equivoque about his wife, Sefton, stung by a remark of Le Sage respecting her, said, "to cut short every other suspicion, she has become a Papist." Le Sage with difficulty restrained himself from laughing. Le Sage attempts the soothing system.

“Come, come, Sefton, lay aside this morbid humour; banish melancholy; if this be the only cause of your grief, all will soon be well. A short run in Paris will soon inspire you with wiser motives. We manage these matters better in France; we allow our wives and daughters to amuse themselves with these bagatelles, just as they please; they must have something to occupy their busy imaginations, and we do not find them less dutiful, or less amiable, because they are more devout. Why, you know I was born a Papist, and am generally esteemed one now."

"Yes," replied Sefton, "I know you are nominally a Papist, because such is the predominant sect of your country; but, thanks to your English education, you have imbibed more rational ideas; you can neither believe nor practise the vile superstitions of that abominable system."

Le Sage informs him that he (Le Sage) went to mass every day as long as his mother lived; but that since her death he did not think that he had seen the interior of a church. Sefton, although disgusted at the levity of Le Sage, yet felt no surprise, as he considered the infidelity of the Frenchman "as the natural result of popery." served:

Sefton ob

"I am not in the least surprised, that a man of your sound sense, and blessed with the advantages of an English education, should be ill satisfied with the empty forms of your national Church; but I think you might have found some rational consolation for your soul, in the more solid service of the Protestant Church.'

"Bah! Bah!' exclaimed Le Sage, 'how little do you understand the activity of the French mind! No sooner do we take leave of Notre Dame, than we seek refuge in the temple of reason and universal philanthropy. No half-way house can for a moment detain us in our ardent career. In one word, Sefton, we see intuitively the final conclusion of your admirable principles; for, to do you justice, we cannot but allow, that the true principles of philosophy, independence of thought, and freedom from the trammels of authority, passed from Britain into France; but for your part, you must acknowledge, that in regenerated France, they have produced the most abundant fruits."

Sefton by no means flattered by this compliment, drily observed, that "The best things may be abused, when carried to excess; even good itself in that way may be perverted into evil. Still, I cannot see (he continued), how, from any English principle, you can deduce French infidelity."

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Nothing more logical,” replied Le Sage; "you maintain that it is the inalienable right of men to hold and express their own free opinions on all religious and political subjects; nay more, you assert that no man can believe what he does not understand;- -on these principles, you very justly protest against a few of the obsolete dogmas of Catholicity;--we protest against them all. Thus we are more consistent and more perfect Protestants than yourself; so that, if the orthodoxy of Protestantism is to be measured by the extent of protestation, we are the most orthodox Protestants on the face of the earth."

Sefton, like a good Protestant, was thunderstruck at the language of Le Sage; but the idea had been started by the immortal Bossuet, and the consequences of the assumed right of private judgment had been fully admitted by Nightingale.

After some further conversation the friends separate; and next day, about the hour of dinner, Le Sage drives to Sefton's lodging, and takes him in his cabriolet to an hotel, where he was to dine with a select party, l'élite de la jeune France. This was a club of infidels intent upon revolution, and Sefton was too readily induced to enter into their views. In short, he took a conspicuous part in the affair of the three glorious days, was severely wounded at the close of the third, and carried to an hospital in the heart of Paris, in a state of insensibility. For several days and nights he was unconscious of everything passing around him, but he was carefully watched by a sister of charity,-one of those angels of mercy, who, in Catholic countries, are ever ready with their consolations to the afflicted. Under the care of sister Angela, an English lady of good family, he gradually recovered; and when he was able to converse on the subject of religion, she received a sort of promise that he would examine the Catholic religion carefully. He was induced by the good sister to write an affectionate letter to his wife, but it contained nothing to give her hopes that his prejudices against the Catholic religion were in any material degree changed. After delivering the letter to the nun, Sefton felt himself much relieved.

"Poor Emma! I have often been sorry I wrote that last harsh letter to you.'

"You have done what you can now to atone for any little unkindness you may have expressed to her before,' said sister Angela: and I think that

you will ere long give her more solid subject for consolation; therefore remain in peace, and trust in God.'

“Oh! no; I shall never be a Catholic,' said he with an incredulous smile, -if that is what you mean.'

"You think so now no doubt,' replied sister Angela; ‘but make no such rash resolutions. The hand of GoD is not shortened, and I cannot persuade myself that he has delivered you so miraculously from the most imminent death unless he has other graces in store for you. All I ask of you is, not to resist these graces, and then I fear not the result.'

"Sefton was astonished with this observation, and replied with great emotion,

"I shall be ever more faithful to the calls of my GOD.' "I ask no more from you at present.'

"How good God has been,' said Sefton, with a this abyss of misery; how little I have deserved it!

sigh, 'to deliver me from How can I requite it?'

""I think,' said the nun, there is one to whom, under God, you are most indebted for this mercy.'

"To whom?' asked Sefton eagerly.

"To your wife! to whose pious prayers and tears God has lent a willing

ear.

"Sefton hid his face for confusion beneath the clothes, and sobbed audibly. After a few minutes, he again raised his countenance, bathed in tears; but Sister Angela had already left the room, and Edward could only say to himself, 'I would give a great deal to have a calm conscience and the peace of mind of that truly angelic being.' He turned round to arrange his pillow, and in so doing, he observed that his nurse had inadvertently left on the table near him, a little black book, in which she often read for a long time. He had frequently wished to know what this book was, but his respect for her had prevented him asking her. He eagerly took it up: it was the Imitation of Christ. Edward had never before seen it; he opened it with avidity, and his astonishment increased as he read, and felt the unction of that precious book penetrate his soul.

"Can you lend me this beautiful little book?' said he to Sister Angela, as soon as she returned in the evening to put things in order for him before she went to her convent for the night.

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you

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'Certainly, if wish it,' answered she; it is a wonderful little book, and contains most sublime lessons of Christian perfection, and profound sentiments of true philosophy.""

Sefton had been a considerable time in the hospital before any of his friends in Paris knew what had became of him. At length he was visited by a Monsieur La Harpe, an eminent literary character, and a relation of the celebrated La Harpe who figured in the great revolution, to whom he had brought letters of introduction on his arrival at Paris.