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man's servant, to his own master he standeth or falleth.' Now, who is the uncandid, the unprejudiced ?"

"Mr. Smith," said Wallace, laughing, "with his Bible and Prayer-book, and his soul bowed down to a tithe of their meaning, abstracted in his thirty-nine Articles of religion; and, there he is," he added, as he pointed back to the Rectory, "in his own little Zion, cramming his fine lads with mythology and theology, and teaching them to pray once a year, for Jews, Turks, Infidels, and Heretics."

"Do be grave, Wallace," said Agnes, notwithstanding she was laughing with him "the subject"

“Demands it,” interrupted the Unbeliever. "Christianity is not a matter of which we are at liberty to dispose without enquiry. If true, our highest interests are involved in it.”

"And if false," rejoined Agnes, "we lose nothing by yielding to its requirements. Don't you remember what poor Byron says; 'Indisputably, the firm believers in the gospel have a great advantage over all others, for this simple reason—that if true, they will have their reward hereafter, and if there be no hereafter, they can be but with the infidel in his eternal sleep, having had the existence of an exalted hope through life, without subsequent disappointment; since, at the worst for them, out of nothing, nothing can arise-not even sorrow.'

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Wallace shook his head.

"We do not wish to believe

a lie," he answered, "even to secure to ourselves a tem

porary advantage."

"But you do not know that our religion is a lie," exclaimed Agnes, "and you will not bring your mind under its influence by a due attention to its claims."

"No, Heaven help me! I wont," said Wallace, "if you mean, as I presume you do, begin a system of reading the Bible, and church-going, and praying, any more than I will put myself into leading-strings when I am able to walk alone. I will not fetter my understanding with nursery fables and Jewish genealogies, when the book of truth and of Nature is unsealed to me!"

66

'And, what have you learnt from your unsealed book that had not been already taught you in 6 your nursery fables?' What moral truth has Nature unfolded that had not long since been recognised as one of the principles of Jesus of Nazareth? The book of nature is full of mysteries which are inexplicable, except as explained by Divine revelation ;" and Agnes added, before the Unbeliever had time to reply, "what, indeed has either of us learnt, although with both the Bible in our hands, and the book of nature open before us, that we can speak of having thrown aside our leading-strings, and ventured alone into the vast ocean of truth? One of the greatest men of our country chose rather to represent himself as one, who was only gathering shells along its shore,—and Wallace, he was a believer in Christianity."

"Was he?" said the Unbeliever, with a look of incredulity. "I dare say you think so. Poor Mr. Smith,” he added, after a pause, "if the boy had said you are a poacher, or a pickpocket, or a smuggler, he could not

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have looked more disconcerted."

"And you-you were so grave, Wallace."

"And it were enough to make a man thoughtful, Agnes, that dark room, with its antiquated furniture, and the old church seeming to be looking in at the window, as if it had something particular to say to us-I was thinking of my own childhood; and how the heart, in after life, is tuned to the song they sing to us in infancy."

CHAPTER V.

"At length the world of sorrow through which we have passed lies like a beautiful island behind us, every spot of which we greet with looks of love."

DAYS, weeks passed, and the Unbeliever and his beloved lived in the Elysuim of undisturbed affection; hoping, thinking, breathing as for each other; and life flitted away like a sunshiny holiday.

One evening, they wandered together through the dark woods and plantations adjoining the Hall, dreaming their time in looks and words of love. In returning home, they passed the parish church. Agnes was fatigued with her long walk, and she rested herself upon the style-a few rude wooden steps which constitute one of the entrances into the church-yard. It was a fine summer's evening, and as she gazed upon the beautiful landscape, intersected with the zigzag mazes of the still blue river, which lay stretched in the sunshine before her, images of peace and beauty fell reflected from her eye upon her heart; and she laid her hand upon her husband's arm and said, “What a Paradise the world seems this evening!"

Wallace did not reply, and as if sobered by a sudden glance at the monuments of death at her feet, his wife quickly added, "Let us go into the church-yard and moralise among the tombstones,-the graves of those,

who once lived in this world of seeming reality; and loved and hoped as we do."

"To-night? dear Agnes; no, not to-night," said the Unbeliever. "I have no sympathy with death this evening. My heart rejoices in its own immortality!"

Agnes smiled; but she succeeded in leading him reluctantly into the church-yard; and the two stood leaning against the old porch, and gazing at the disfigured gurgoils which look through the ivy that clings to the walls of the building. In a few seconds the dull sound of the church bell fell, and vibrated in the air.

"And now, there's the passing bell!" exclaimed Wallace, throwing a hasty glance at the further side of the church-yard-"and Mr. Smith, and-of course, a funeral! Did I not tell you that I had no sympathy with death, this evening?" and half in jest, half in earnest, he sprang across the style, and quickly disappeared in the adjoining wood.

Agnes turned, and looked after him for a moment; but she had come into the church-yard to moralise, as she expressed it, and the sight of a village funeral, with its imposing simplicity, and train of rural mourners, together with the quiet of the passing bell, would but have added to the interest of the scene. After a little hesitation, instead of following her husband, she turned to the side of the church-yard, where he had just recognised Mr. Smith, and passed noiselessly towards him, through the high grass.

Perhaps the Rector of Clifton did not particularly relish this interruption to his reflections. He was, how

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