manhood of his life, and crowned with all the honors of a christian career. I indeed cannot expect to be here to hail his return, but still we shall meet again in that happier world, where parting will not be known.”

A general silence of some minutes ensued, for the question, "When shall we all meet again?" had fallen heavily on the heart of each.

Ellen had not spoken, but the tears rolled down her cheek as she heard the sad intelligence of their summons; but, at last, as she thought of the anticipation of so long a separation from her brother, she leaned her head upon Miss Aubrey's shoulder, and gave free vent to her feelings: "Oh! what will become of me when my dear, dear Herbert is gone?" exclaimed she, "I shall never see him again."

Herbert went to her, and affectionately endeavoured to offer consolation, by reminding her that they would still be many weeks together. "Let us not then, Ellen," said he, “make duty a painful task; in a few years we may meet again, and in the

meanwhile think of the pleasure we may bestow and share in doing our best while separated, to ensure, if it be the will of God, a happy meeting even here, and an eternal one hereafter."

Thus with the united efforts of Miss Aubrey, Ellen became more reconciled. She smiled through her tears, as Miss Aubrey said, "You shall be my little sister, and then shall I not do almost as well as a brother, till Herbert comes back again?"

"Oh,” replied Ellen mournfully, "but you are not going with me. I shall have nobody left to love or care for me, obliged to live in that vile place Lymington, where I shall care for nobody but mamma.

"But you will have many duties, dear Ellen, to care for," replied Miss Aubrey, "and that must sweeten every situationenliven every place; and then as you are not going to India, you can come here again next summer, when we shall increase your little district, and make you the busiest of the busy! Think, Ellen, of the pleasure we shall enjoy in resuming all our village

cares, and I shall write to you very often; but come," added she, wiping the remaining tears from Ellen's cheeks, "as Herbert says, we must not be the only beings of nature's creation to sorrow at the close of past blessings, when so bright a sun meets us as an earnest of continued mercies. We have a long fortnight yet to be together, so we must make the most of our time, for we shall find many things to do, and much to say. To begin then, let us now go and visit your young invalid, and then to the school, where I dare say we shall find Fanny busily employed in distributing her weekly rewards." So saying, both left the room, and Ellen soon appeared with a brighter countenance, ready for her errand.

It would be needless to describe the feelings of regret excited at the Priory by the anticipation of Herbert's departure; they were all that affection could express, but were still subservient to those of perfect resignation to the will of God, who for the same wise end ordains bereavement, or continued possession, of blessings, as He

alone can foresee as most fitting for our eternal interests. The ensuing ten days were therefore passed in cheerful enjoyment of each other's society, but the Sunday now approached which would probably be the last shared together for many years, and before the return of such anotherah! who could say over whom might pass the messenger of death, whose mandate must be obeyed alike by young and old, and whose touch no human agency can avert!

The sacrament was administered on that day at the little chapel at St. Llenards, and all but Ellen remained to partake the privileges of the sacred ordinance,—once more to unite together in that holy baptism, which renews the tie between the Creator and the creature when received in steadfast faith on the promises of the Redeemer.

On their return home, each retired to their separate rooms, and Louis to the library, where he was surprised to find Ellen sitting mournfully, with her arm resting on a large Bible, opened at the description of

our Lord's supper, over which she appeared so intently engaged, that Louis remained some moments in the room before she knew that he was near her. She had evidently retired there on her return from church, as her pelisse was merely loosened, and her bonnet thrown don carelessly by her side. Louis, fearful of alarming her, gently came forward, and assuming a cheerful voice, he said, "Why, my dear Ellen, I have never seen you look so serious before."

Because," replied Ellen, startled, "I have never before thought so seriously on a serious subject."

"And what may that subject be?" said Louis.

"The Lord's supper," replied Ellen, with a tone of deep feeling, "from which I alone of twelve, like a second Iscariot, have turned away, while others have fed from the sacred cup of everlasting life."

"But indeed, Ellen," said Louis, taking her hand, "here you condemn yourself unjustly. In religion as in life, we must be