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child indications of her father's genius, recognized also the same quick apprehension, ardent temperament, and impetuous passions, and trembled for her future. Stuart could not sympathize with these forebodings; his only regret was in not finding his daughter the living image of her lovely mother. In person as well as character she rather resembled him. She was not beautiful, yet her appearance was redeemed by her mother's soft black eyes and small expressive mouth, Her smile was sweet and gracious, her countenance varied with every emotion, its charm was its expression. If at times, when wrapt in thought, the compressed lips and knitted brow, the sombre and gloomy look seemed incompatible with female loveliness; but wake her fancy, touch her heart, and her cheek would flush, her eye would sparkle, her whole face would beam with radiant smiles, and no doll-like beauty could compare with her.

Without appointed tasks or fixed routine, her education rapidly progressed; daily and hourly she acquired mental strength and moral beauty. It was her father's chief pleasure to instruct her; he reasoned with her and bade her think, and her young mind soon responded to his endeavours. It was beautiful to see them-the father and the child, beautiful to mark the high intelligence that beaned in her thoughtful face as she hung in

breathless interest upon his words; or to see at times the father forgotten in the man of genius, as some artless remark of his young child would recal the ardent feelings of his own youth. At such times, the wife and mother would earnestly contemplate them, while the tear of pride and joy trembled in her eye. And she, too, had her part to perform; while Stuart guided her young steps through the wide fields of literature and learning, it was her gentle mother's care, to adorn their daughter with all the feminine graces and accomplishments conspicuous in herself.

She taught her to love all that was good and beautiful, to sympathize with all who suffered, and not only to sympathize, but to succour. Not by formal prayers or studied lessons did she teach her piety. She spoke of the wonderful goodness and love of God, till the heart of the young child glowed with fervent adoration,—and she regarded her Creator as a father and a friend, whom it was not only a duty to obey, but a high privilege to love and serve.

Thus passed the first years of Evelyn's life; she looked to Heaven with gratitude, to her parents with fond affection. The world was all sunshine-life was bliss. Happy child! enjoy the bright hours ere they fly, sorrow is at handsorrow, desolation. The roses of early youth yet

bloomed upon her cheek, when they were blanched by her first grief-her mother died! Her mother died!-can human language pourtray the whole extent of a calamity so dire-the whole anguish of so terrible a bereavement? A mother's place can never again be filled; others may love, may pity, may admire, but no feelings can compare with the sympathizing, enduring, deep, devoted tenderness of a mother's fond affection. Allimportant were the lessons Evelyn learned by the death-bed of that anxious parent, who, knowing her character, and trembling for her future, had ardently prayed for her sake to live; but it was not to be, and her care was now to cherish and inculcate principles, which should be her guiding rule through life. All her words were written in the heart of her weeping child; her last injunction bade her love her father, and endeavour to control her feelings for his sake.

Words cannot picture that father's anguish when the beloved of his heart, the friend and companion of his life was taken from him. That vivid imagination which had increased his happiness, now added fresh torments to his despair. The first violence of his emotion passed over his heart, like the withering blast of the simoom, leaving all desolate. The sight of those blue hills she had loved, of the home she had gladdened with

her smiles, now unnerved him. Away!-he left them all. Alone with his young Evelyn, he sought relief in change of scene. They wandered in foreign lands, but who can banish memory? They bore their sorrow with them in their hearts.

Remembering her mother's words, Evelyn's chief care was now to dissipate her father's melancholy, to win a smile from his sorrowstricken face, was her greatest joy. And as the dripping water wears away the marble, slow but efficacious in its persevering power, so did the gentle soothing of his child soften the rigour of the mourner's grief. Without a friend or companion but his young daughter, he would converse with her freely, even on subjects beyond her years, but not long beyond her comprehension.

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He would speak not only on the events of the past, but often speculate upon the future. Keenly would he animadvert upon the present, and paint the world in gloomy colours. would tell her how the great and rich and powerful were cruel tyrants; how they had scorned him for his poverty, and cast away her mother because she loved him. He spoke of the sorrows of the poor, of their lives of slavery and woe. He told her that God made all men equal; that man tyrannized over his brother; that Might was

the only recognized power,-whether the might of wealth, of rank, or of high authority; that Right was held for nothing, if right depended only on itself. And Evelyn listened in wonder to these frequent discourses, in which her father would pour forth the bitterness of his soul. She had fancied the world was all beautiful, and was it then so dark? How different were her mother's lessons, which had taught her that the worst men had more of good than evil,-that all were more deserving of love than of hate. Anxiously she asked her father if it were not so? He paused, reflecting on his former words and their probable effect on a heart so young and ardent. He resolved never more to tell her of sin and sorrow. Far be it from him to cloud the happiness of unconscious youth; experience would bring enough of trouble. Henceforth he spoke only of the beauty of the landscape, of the goodness of God, of heavenly love, of truth, of virtue: and while he spoke of these things, the ardour of his youthful days returned, and Evelyn's heart responded to the theme.

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