in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this? She saith unto him, Yea, Lord I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world."

"That is not an unbeliever's voice," said the dying man, triumphantly; "nor, William, hast thou an unbeliever's heart. Say that thou believest in what thou hast now read, and thy father will die happy!" "I do believe; and as thou forgivest me, so may I be forgiven by my Father who is in heaven."

The elder seemed like a man suddenly inspired with a new life. His faded eyes kindled-his pale cheeks glowed-his palsied hands seemed to wax strong-and his voice was clear as that of manhood in its prime. "Into thy hands, oh! God, I commit my spirit." And so saying, he gently sunk back on his pillow; and I thought I heard a sigh. There was then a long deep silence, and the father, and mother, and child rose from their knees. The eyes of us all were turned towards the white placid face of the figure now stretched in everlasting rest; and without lamentation, save the silent lamentations of the resigned soul, we stood around the DEATH-BED

OF THE ELDER.

CHAPTER II.

THE PENITENT SON.

DEATH brings to those who have been long dreading its approach, by the bedside of one tenderly beloved, a calm in which nature feels most gracious relief from the load of sorrow. While we yet hear the faint murmurs of the unexpired breath, and see the dim light of the unclosed eyes, we watch in agony all the slightest movements of the sufferer, and to save the life of friend or of parent we ourselves would most gladly die. All the love of which our hearts are capable belongs then but to one dearest object; and things which perhaps a few days before were prized as the most delightful of earth's enjoyments seem, at that awful crisis, unworthy even of the affections of a child. The blow is struck and the sick-bed is a bier. But God suffers not the souls of them who believe to fall into an abyss of despair. The being whom for so many long years we have loved and reverenced

"Has pass'd through nature to eternity,"

and the survivors are left behind in mournful resignation to the mysterious decree.

Life and death walk through this world hand in hand. Young, old, kind, cruel, wise, foolish, good, and wicked-all at last patiently submit to one inexorable law. At all times, and in all places, there are the watchings, and weepings, and wailings of hearts severed, or about to sever. Yet look over landscape or city-and though sorrow, and sickness, and death be in the groves and woods and solitary

places among the hills, among the streets and, the squares, and the magnificent dwellings of princes; yet the great glad spirit of life is triumphant, and there seems no abiding-place for the dreams of decay.

Sweet lonesome cottage of the Hazel Glen! Even now is the merry month of May passing brightly over thy broomy braes; and while the linnet sings on earth, the lark replies to him from heaven. The lambs are playing in the sunshine over all thy verdant knolls, and infant shepherd and shepherdess are joining in their glee. Scarcely is there a cloud in the soft cerulean sky, save where a gentle mist ascends above the dark green sycamore, in whose shade that solitary dwelling sleeps! This little world is filled to the brink with happiness; for grief would be ashamed to sigh within the still enclosure of these pastoral hills.

In

Three little months ago, and in that cottage we stood together-son, daughter, grandchild, pastor, and friend-by the death-bed of the elder. thought are we still standing there; and that night of death returns upon me, not dark and gloomy, but soft, calm, and mournful, like the face of heaven just tinged with moonlight, and here and there a solitary

star.

The head of the old man lay on its pillow stiller than in any breathing sleep, and there was a paleness on his face that told the heart would beat no more. We stood motionless as in a picture, and looked speechlessly on each other's countenance. "My grandfather has fallen asleep," said the loving boy in a low voice, unconsciously using, in his simplicity, that sublime scriptural expression for death. The mother, unable to withhold her sobs, took her child by his little hand, and was leading him away, when at once the dreadful truth fell upon him, and he knew that he was never again to say his prayers by the old man's knees. "Oh! let me kiss him-once only -before they bury him in the cold earth;" and in a

moment the golden curls of the child were mixed with the gray hairs of the lifeless shadow. No terror had the cold lips for him; and closely did he lay his cheek so smooth to those deep wrinkles, on which yet seemed to dwell a last loving smile. The father of the boy gazed piteously upon him, and said unto himself, "Alas! he hath no love to spare for me, who have so long forgotten him. Jamie-my little Jamie!" cried he, now aloud, "thou wouldst not weep so were I to die-thou wouldst not kiss so thy own father's lips, if they were, as these are, colder and whiter than the clay!" The child heard well, even where he lay on the bosom of that corpse, the tremulous voice of his father; and nature stirring strongly within his heart towards him of whose blood he was framed, he lifted up his sullied face from the unbeating bosom, and, gently stealing himself away from the bed, rushed into his parent's arms, and lay there delivered up to all the perfect love of childhood's forgiving heart. All his father's frowns were forgotten-his sullen looks-his stern words-his menaces, that had so often struck terror to his wondering soul-his indifference his scorn, and his cruelty. He remembered only his smiles, and the gentlest sounds of his voice; and happy now, as in heaven, to feel himself no more neglected or spurned, but folded, as in former sweetest days, unto the yearning bosom of his own kind father, the child could bear to turn his eyes from that blessed embrace towards the dead old man whom, an hour ago, he had looked on as his only guardian on earth besides God, and whose gray hairs he had, even as an orphan, twined round his very heart. "I do not ask thee, Jamie, to forget thy grandfather-no, we too will often speak of him, sitting together by the ingle, or on the hillside, but I beseech thee not to let all thy love be buried with him in the grave-but to keep all that thou canst for thy wretched father." Sighs, sobs. tears, kisses, and embraces were all the

loving child's reply. A deep and divine joy had been restored to him, over whose loss often had his pining childhood wept. The beauty of his father's face revived-it smiled graciously upon him, as it did of old, when he was wont to totter after him to the sheepfold, and to pull primroses beneath his loving eye from the mossy banks of the litt sparkling burn! Scarcely could the child believe in such blessed change. But the kisses fell fast on his brow, and when he thought that the accompanying tears were shed by his own father for the unkindness sometimes shown to his child, he could not contain those silent self-upbraidings, but with thicker sobs blessed him by that awful name, and promised to love him beyond even him who was now lying dead before their eyes. "I will walk along with the funeral-and see my grandfather buried, in our own burial-place near where the tent stands at the sacrament. Yes, I will walk, my father, by your side, and hold one of the strings of the coffin; and if you will only promise to love me for ever as you now do, and used always to do long ago, I will strive to think of my grandfather without weeping-ay, without shedding one single tear;" and here the child, unaware of the full tenderness of his own sinless heart, burst out into an uncontrollable flood of grief. The mother, happy, in her sore affliction, to see her darling boy again taken so lovingly to her husband's heart, looked towards them with a faint smile,-and then, with a beaming countenance, towards the expired saint; for she felt that his dying words had restored the sanctities of nature to her earthly dwelling. With gentle hand she beckoned the pastor and myself to follow her, and conducted us away from the death-bed into a little parlour, in which burned a cheerful fire, and a small table was spread with a cloth whiter than the snow. "You will stay in our cottage all night, and we shall all meet VOL. II.-Y