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pressed by the injunction, “Bear ye one another's burdens." Without possessing the exquisite tenderness of the class first alluded to, without entertain ing any especial degree of partiality for the individ ual, we are imperatively called upon to make both allowances and sacrifices, for the sake of those around us. Good breeding ensures this, among people who are held together by the bonds of civil society; but something more must interpose to induce its continuance, where intimacy has removed many restraints. It is not to be computed how much of domestic and social happiness is lost, by neglecting to cultivate this branch of Christian duty. It is lovely to see the strong bearing the infirmities of the weak, and descending to trifles, beneath the level of their more powerful minds, in order to avoid too rough a collision with spirits rendered over-sensitive by afflictions, by sickness, or by natural temperament. Nor is forbearance to be confined to the more energetic party: the weak are bound to remember that others, differently constituted, cannot so enter into all the minutiae of their feelings, as to escape every appearance of insensibility to their complaints. Still, if the gospel rule be followed, in prayerful solicitude to possess and to manifest the mind which was in Christ Jesus, many a cup, now of almost unmingled bitterness as respects this world, may be sweetly ameliorated oy the hand of forbearing kindness; while gleams

of gladness are rendered brighter, by the smiling participation of those who are taught of God to rejoice with them that do rejoice.

I think the whole bible does not afford us so af fecting a lesson as that contained in two words in St. John's gospel-" Jesus wept." It is not merely the act of his weeping, but the occasion, that pre sents so exquisite an instance of the sympathy dear to afflicted man. Our Lord was on the point of turning the grief of his friends into unbounded joy, and very few among us, with such anticipation close at hand, would be able to find a tear for the mourners—our minds would be too much occupied with their approaching, and most overwhelming delight. But the holy Jesus, touched with a feeling of all our infirmities, looked on the present anguish, and wept with the heart-broken sisters. Oh! how unlike that cold, unsympathizing spirit, that seeks to force on the writhing sufferer its own superficial view of the passing calamity; that chides the gushing tear, and preaches a lesson of indifference to a mind stretched on the rack of torture! Yet this is often done, with the best and kindest intention, through forgetfulness of the great and precious example of Him who could not err! I have experienced this injudicious treatment, when every feeling of my heart was lacerated and torn, by a loss no less bitter---far more sudden and terrible than that of Martha and Mary. I have then been told,

that what was past could not be recalled, and therefore I must not allow my mind to dwell upon it. Miserable comfort it was, and utterly hateful to my soul but I turned to the sacred volume, and in those two words, "Jesus wept," I read the character of one to whom I could bring my sorrows, who would suffer me to weep before him, and forgive the reproachful thought, that said "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."

And how beautifully does the bud of my gentle Evening Primrose typify the change that passes on the children of God, when he summons them to burst the fetters of flesh! It is true that, when the spirit enters into glory, it disappears altogether from our ken, while the glory of the flower is to expand and shine before us. Still the rapidity, the beauty of the transition, occurring too, as it does, at the quiet, solemn hour of closing eve, will force upon the mind a resemblance very sweet to contemplate, and gives, at least to me, the idea of happy spirits silently encompassing my path, while I meditate on the endearing theme. I sometimes gather the buds, and watch their expansion in my hand, delighting almost as a mother does in the unclosing eye of her slumbering babe. The petals of this flower are very beautiful, and wear a character of refreshing coolness, and durability too, when they open to the pleasant breeze of evening but all is frail and transitory, destined to endure no

longer than while the sun is absent from our hen isphere. Vanity is written upon all that fixes it root in this perishing earth; and man, especially, walketh in a vain shadow, disquieting himself in vain. The best, the dearest, the holiest of our privileges, as regards our fellow-beings, hang but upon a breath; and that perhaps the breath of Satan, or of most evil-minded men, permitted by Him who suffered the inmates of Bethany to drink the bitter cup of bereavement, in tears and anguish of soul: but only that he might, after exercising their faith and submission, prove the omnipotence of his arm to wrest back the prey, and confounded the opposers of his sovereignty, and shame the doubters of his everlasting love. Against his faithful servants; the hand of violence and wrong can do nothing, but pave the way for brighter manifestations of his glory; he whom Jesus loves may be sick-he whom Jesus loves may be persecutedbut his prospect is sure; and, however foes may triumph for a season, he shall yet be more than conqueror, through Him who has so loved him.

CHAPTER IX.

THE VINE.

AFTER a long struggle against the prevailing inclination, I have resolved to gratify it, even at the hazard of being brought in guilty of a flagrant departure from the verity of my title. Fruit does not legitimately come under the head of flowers;true, but flowers that herald not some species of fruit are comparatively of little worth. In short, I would rather, for once, plead guilty to the charge of inconsistency, than deprive myself of the delight with which I constantly dwell on an image so nationally precious, that the reader who falls out with me for bringing it before her, must seek her place beyond the circle of, at least, English Christian ladies.

The VINE, the fruitful vine, that spreads its luxuriant foliage, and throws out its wiry tendrils, and hangs forth its clusters to the mellowing sunbeams, will not be passed by, at this season of sweet recollections. It brings before me in the most vivid por

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