were supplied with prayer-books, and the deepest solemnity appeared in every one. It had been found necessary to shorten the service, on account of the weak state of the worshippers; but I observed that the prayer for all estates of men was used, and that of those afflicted in mind, body, or estate, the inmates of this house of mercy were specified; and that thanksgivings were particularly returned for those who, during the past week, had left it with benefit.

A judge of music would smile, when I confess that the two or three verses that were sung with such feeble and trembling voices, exceedingly affected me. Oh! how different it must be, I thought, yet if it comes from humble and thankful hearts-how like the full burst of praise in heaven!

My friend had chosen his text from the history of him who once, kneeling before the incarnate Saviour, prayed, "Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean;" and he dwelt on the ready answer, "I will-be thou clean!" His sermon was very short, suited to the situation, and simple, to meet the capacities of his hearers; but very earnest and very affectionate; the language of a fellow-sufferer, who knew the depth and

inveteracy of the general disease-sin, and the certainty of one method of seeking a cure. He drew a comparison, that every patient could realise, between the possible failure of the kindest and most skilful earthly, and the certain and unfailing ability of the great Physician. I am sure the people attended and understood, for many tears were shed. Who of them profited? Lord, thou knowest! Was I with the ten who were cleansed ? Have I gone away with the nine, or returned, with the solitary stranger, to give glory to God?

Forms bowed down by grief and sin

Waited that still room within:

Pallid cheeks and brows of care,

In sad group were gather'd there.
There the worn and weary came,
Fainting, weak, and blind, and lame;
Whom no art of man could heal,

There I saw the incurable.

There, by sudden chance o'ertaken;

There, whom stern disease had shaken;
There, by pining sickness bow'd;
Oh! a melancholy crowd!

Yet thy word of peace, my mother!

Comfort breath'd to each and other.

Angel-like I saw thee move,

On thy shadowing wings of love.
Of the great Physician's healing,
To the word of truth appealing.
Thou didst hope and comfort bring,
From the one unfailing spring.
Thou a ray of light didst pour,
Where it had not stream'd before.
Thou didst teach the dumb to sing,
With a voice of thanksgiving.
To the dying thou didst tell
Of the land where all are well;
And didst close the failing eyes,
Whispering, "Wake in paradise!"
Therefore, albeit weak the strain,
Once I own me thine again;
Once more tell my love to thee,
In these days of blasphemy.

January 26, 1836.

148

A WALK ON A WINTER AFTERNOON.

WAS that walk so pleasant then, my dearest friend, that you ask for a little memento of it? Thank you for the kindness that caused you to enjoy it; thank you for the continued, and renewed, and increased affection that still makes you value my company; that slackens the quick pace, for my accommodation, and takes pleasure in assisting me, as in former times.

We had promised ourselves a walk for many days; for you know there are few hours in the week when we can command each other's company. I do not speak by way of complaint: some little hinderance there must be to every one's happiness in this world: who has so few as you and I? And we are travelling together-at least, I humbly hope so-to a world where one source of happiness shall be the undivided society of dear companions.

I cannot say the afternoon was particularly favourable; but it was one of the most passable of this chilly and stormy winter, and it was the first walk we had taken together for months. The breath of fresh air, and the feeling of returning strength to enjoy it, will give pleasure at all times. There was yet scarcely an half-opened daisy along the bank, or a bird in the hedge. The thrush-storm-cock, as the people call it, because it sings in such boisterous weathershunned this chill and gloomy afternoon. Not one robin greeted us, winter bird though it be; nor could we discover that blush of red along the hedge, which in a week or two more will tell that spring and her buds and blossoms are coming.

But do you remember, on our way home, the glorious evening star, that shone out in the west before us, just where the sun had set? What matter if there should be but little of brightness along our path here, if we can but keep our eyes fixed on the star that shall guide us safe home at last?

In the row of very poor houses to which we went, one was pointed out to us by its very neat garden, and its cut hedges of evergreen box.