dial as that to his daughter, though at first it was not returned by him with quite the same heartiness. But when Mr. Harley grasped the hand of his friend, he kept it in that grasp. "Welcome, wel

come, always welcome," he said, "my dear friend, no one more welcome." His daughter's eyes were fixed on him with an anxious look, till she saw that the shade had cleared away from his brow, then the anxious look disappeared from her own face. The two gentlemen turned and walked away together.

"Have you forgiven me, my brother?" said Mr. Clareton, with deep emotion. "But why do I ask that question? Are you not always forgiving? do you not always forgive my hot and hasty speech, and irascible humour? When I smite you on the one cheek, are you not always ready to turn to me the other also?" "My friend," said Mr. Harley, "I tell you the truth, when I say that I do often deplore your unguarded warmth of temper, and pray that you may have grace to subdue it; for he that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city. You often damage your own cause by the manner in which you defend it; and you give your opponent an advantage, which I, for my part, when I am unhappily at odds with you, should be ashamed to avail myself of." "It is true, my brother, it is true," said Mr. Clareton, "and I wonder that you bear with me but you know that I love you right well, few better, if any so well. The last time, however, that we met, I fear I exceeded even all my former provocations, and when I was gone I remembered with sorrow of heart your look of grave displeasure, and your silence, that silence which had increased my irritation at the time. I might have come sooner to ask your pardon; for I left you in anger, and told you that I would not seek you again. It was a rash vow!" "It was, indeed, dear friend," said Mr. Harley; "but I knew

that you would break it.

Had you kept away much longer, I should have come to seek you." "I have no friend whom I revere, and love, as I do you," he continued : "and why should we ever dispute on points, which, after all that can be said of them, are of no vital importance ?" "So you have often said, my brother, and I have often agreed that you are right; the only excuse which I can make for myself is, that loving you so well, I would have you of the same mind with myself on every point."

"A little unreasonable, I must confess," said Mr. Harley, smiling: "for my part, I am well content that you should keep your own opinions on all minor questions, things that affect not our eternal interest; and surely it would be but fair to me, if you would allow me the same latitude. I often think that these said questions, on which you and I are apt to argue with so much heat, in this our present state and lower world, will never enter those bright and heavenly regions, to which, I trust, we are both journeying; never ruffle the calm of our enfranchised spirits there. We shall have put off all these discordant frames of mind, when we have put off these earthly tabernacles: and why not anticipate that blessed period now, and put them off at once?" "You may do so; nay, it seems to me you have already done so, my brother ; and, by God's grace, I promise you to do the same : but while the world is what it is, they will not cease to divide even true hearts like ours.' "I am more hopeful," said Mr. Harley. "We live in strange times, when the moral atmosphere is at an equinox. But these storms of rude contention will subside, and the men of another generation will learn wisdom from the warnings of our troublous times."

"I doubt it, I doubt it, my brother; and I

should not wish it, if the reaction of a stagnation in spiritual things should succeed." "Well, be the future what it may with others," said Mr. Harley, "you and I, my brother, have, from this time, come forth from the jarring elements of such contentions. On the one great question we never could agree to differ on lesser points-and, indeed, on every point of light importance we will dispute no more. Yet a little while, and He that shall come, will come. This sun-dial reminds us that time is passing by, and that the time is short: these slant beams, as they lengthen the shadow of the gnomon, tell us that the day of our night below is far spent."

The two clergymen were standing by the sun-dial, at the end of the terrace. "A little while, and ye shall not see me, and again, a little while, and ye shall see me," Mr. Clareton faintly murmured these words to himself. "Your sundial gives its warning," he continued, after a short, but thoughtful pause, "and I would fain receive it; but your flowers are teachers too, my brother. What varieties of tints, and breathing perfumes, and yet what fine harmonies of colour and of scent are produced by that very variety. Here, indeed, is a lovely unity, and who that looks upon these variegated flower-plots, and inhales the combined sweetness of their different odours, would wish for uniformity. So let it be with us, my own dear brother in the faith. I must be still a Puritan, and you will be still a Prelatist; but let us never forget that there is room for both of us, with all our decided notions and differences on points of discipline, in one reformed and established church. May we never wish, either you or I, to eject the other, from her pale and brotherhood. We both love the truth as it is in Jesus; we would both seek a peace which is not grounded, like that of the corrupted and apostate church of Rome, upon an

implicit ignorance; for all colours, as my Lord Bacon has well said, agree in the dark; but let us seek that peace which is the fruit of faith and an enlightened conscience: let us, then, keep up no strife, but which of us shall walk most worthy of the vocation wherewith we are called, with all lowliness and meekness, with long suffering, forbearing one another in love." "With all my heart. I say, Amen, to every word that you have spoken, my brother," replied Mr. Harley. "Let us henceforth endeavour to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. There is but one body, and one Spirit, even as we called in one hope of our calling. One Lord, one faith, one baptism; and let us pray that the one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, may be in us all, even in all who love the Lord Jesus Christ." Again he clasped the hand of his friend, which was now held forth to him, with a look of warm affection, and from each loving heart a silent prayer went up that a blessing might come down upon the other. Then, in silence, they turned from the sundial, and walking side by side they passed along the terrace, and crossing the moat, they descended the steps which led to the flower-garden below. The sound which rose upon the clear, soft, dewy air had drawn them thither. They saw not the singers at first, but they knew the voices to be those of the ladies whom they had left; and as they advanced, the deep rich tones of a man's voice were also heard. One was with the party for whose arrival they had not looked, but whose presence always brought with it a feeling of joy to their hearts. He was the half-brother of Mr. Clareton, twenty years his junior, and also a minister of the gospel. Gabriel Clareton had been residing on the continent for the last few years, and, as he told them when the hymn was concluded, and they returned to the house to share together their tempe

rate supper, he had brought them good news from London. He had spent some time there on his arrival in England. He had been present when the message from the king at Breda was read before the new parliament, and received with acclamations of joy. He had been present also, on the 8th of May, when Charles the Second was proclaimed king in London, and the proclamation had been received by the people with what he described as a delirium of joy. He had brought with him a copy of the king's declaration, which he produced and read. It contained the promise of a full pardon to all his subjects, those only excepted who should be hereafter named by the parliament. It promised liberty to tender consciences, and proceeded to declare, that no man should be disquieted, or called in question, for difference of opinion in matters of religion, which did not disturb the peace of the kingdom.

The two elder clergymen listened to the words of that well-known declaration with heartfelt joy and deep thankfulness to God; but, at the request of Mr. Harley, it was read again, and it was then perceived that there were some expressions in it which appeared to be of a doubtful character; and Mr. Clareton, with a grave and slightly sardonic manner, said, that he "could not help being reminded on that second reading of the popish Queen Mary's proclamation to the men of Suffolk; and that he liked not the expression, 'those only excepted, whom the parliament should after name.' The words were of a most ambiguous character, and might be construed in a wide sense, as opening the door to the persecution and punishment of many honest men who had been attached to the late government."

Mr. Harley was more hopeful-more sanguine. He was, and always had been, a stanch royalist, and he gave the most favourable construction to the