Yes, there is a difference of feeling, and if an equal interest be felt by both fathers, it must be of as different a nature as the sight that creates it. The man of peace sees his son about to appear as an ambassador of Christ to serve in the sanctuary in which he has served, and declare the same truths which he has declared, and for which they shall give their account at that day, when the souls they win to Christ shall be their joy and crown of rejoicing in the Lord, or those they neglect or assist in deceiving, shall add to their condemnation he sees him about to publish peace, to call on men to be reconciled to their God—and when he thinks how he has pleaded with his God for him how he has longed to see him receive himself those doctrines which he is about to teach unto others-the tear of gratitude is in his eye-that a father's hopes are fulfilled, and a father's prayers are heard.

But the man of war sees his son gird on his sword, in sad evidence that the kingdom of the Prince of peace is not yet come; that nation riseth up against nation, and men learn war from their youth; he seems not the herald of peace, but the stirer up of strife, not the proclaimer of mercy, but the promoter of wrath. Yet to a father, and that father a soldier from his boyhood, interesting and full of feeling must the moment be, when first he sees the object of his hopes, his love, his

fears, arrayed in the panoply in which he has grown grey, and preparing to set out in the same profession in which he has served, and in the same service in which he has fought and bled, and toiled and gloried.

In Louisa's apartments, the evening circle was generally a domestic one; and it was curious, in the small group that usually assembled there, to witness the variety of character and feeling developed in their several remarks on the interesting topics of the day. At such times Charles would express the glowing anticipations of the sanguine boy; Courtenay the conjectures of the reflecting, brave, and sensible man; Fitzmorris the deliberate opinion of the old, experienced soldier. Here, or sauntering along some of the fine uplands that bordered our encampment, I enjoyed more peaceful hours than I could have anticipated on first embarking for the theatre of war; we sometimes spoke as politicians, sometimes as soldiers, sometimeslet not the politician nor the soldier smilesometimes as Christians. How well does. memory picture afresh this place to my view, as if it were only yesterday that I had seen it!-the sloping bank on which I have reclined the vine-clad cottage beneath-the camp with all its array, its sounds and its throng, spread out beyond it-the smoke from the town curling up above the tents, and, far off, the fine spread view, bonuded by the

lofty mountains whose tops were encircled by clouds. Here, with Courtenay, I could talk of the past, with the ardent Charles of the future.

CHAPTER IV.

ONE morning we ascended an eminence in the neighbourhood; a quantity of rain had fallen in the night, (and a night of rain in an open camp is not very agreeable): we rose early, in hopes that a walk under a newlyrisen sun would refresh us more than an uncomfortable sleep in a cold, wet tent. The ground was wet, the mists and fogs were not yet dispersed; but over the tops of the hills the sun was brightly shining, and towards them we directed our steps; but when we stood on the spot that had seemed so inviting, we looked down and saw great masses of cloud and mist moving beneath us, and shutting out the view we had expected. An ardent lover of nature, both in her softest and sublimest dress, Charles complained most bitterly of disappointment; a hand was laid upon his shoulder while he spoke, and turning

quickly round, he saw his father, who, with Courtenay, had followed us unperceived. 'Look around, and above and beneath you, my boy' said Fitzmorris, and tell me, does no thought strike you?”

6

Charles did as he was desired, and looked up to him again: None, except that every thing is very dreary and dull looking."

My eye had followed his, and I said, smiling, 'do you wish to make your son a moralizer, Colonel?'

"Neither old soldiers nor young soldiers are good moralizers,' he answered, but the similitude struck my own mind very forcibly, and I am glad that you observed it too.'

A

What do you mean?' said Charles, impatiently, my imagination, which you say I ought to control, is not so active this gloomy morning as either yours or my friend Traverston's.'

'I thought, on looking down on the murky plain below us, that the situation of those upon it might seem not unlike to that of men in general; men as they are by nature, when they look up, clouds and darkness rest upon their sight-if they raise their eyes they see only a dark vapoury, shadowy scene, their hearts are chilled and cold, for the glorious prospect of heaven is hidden; it is enveloped in the vapours that infidelity and sin have raised. But when the soul is set above these things, light shines around it, and above it;

the mists are dispersed, and the clouds that intercepted our view are found to have be-longed to earth, and not to heaven.'

'Yes,' said Charles, glancing about him, and then turning his animated face to us, while his hand pointed to the still brightening sky; and when, from such a Pisgah's top, we look on to the bright prospect before us, how gladly would we leave the mists that still linger around us, for the pure effulgence of light that is above us.'

Courtenay smiled at the enthusiastic expression of his young cousin's beaming face; but to me it was interesting, it was lovely; I looked upon it, and thought it surely bore the characters I had seen before-characters that seemed to speak of speedily obtaining a passport to a better country;' one that seemed more like their own native clime, than this unholy earth.

Courtenay looked thoughtful a moment, and then said to his uncle,

'Are not such sentiments, Sir, respecting our fellow creatures, rather uncharitable? For my part, I would wish to consider every man as having as equal a chance of heaven as myself.'

A cloud passed over his uncle's brow, as he repeated in a deep and solemn tone the word Chance!'-he compressed his lips, as he always did when his feelings suffered, and then murmured,