AFTER the lapse of a few weeks, Kitty returned to her home, a blooming bride. Once more her ringing laugh sounded like music in her parents' ears; once more they listened for the sound of her light step, as she ran about the house and garden; now giving orders, now performing, as of old, the many, but pleasant, household duties which fall to the share of an industrious farmer's daughter. "Ah! 'tis our own Kitty," the old man often exclaimed: "not a whit is she changed."

But was it so? was she not changed? was she as happy as when, a guileless girl, she had quitted for the first time her native village? God and her own heart alone could say. But ought she to have been so gay as in her days of comparative innocence? Alas, no! Still, she may have felt so; for conscience sometimes upbraids not for a time one, who, by an action prompted by passion and completed by self-will, has forfeited the smile of heaven; or, at least the still small voice is unheard amid the loud throbbing of the rebel heart, which (until sorrow have quieted the fevered pulse) whispers to itself that all is peace, whilst God declares that there is no peace. This is, of all spiritual states, the most dangerous in itself, the most awful to contemplate. It is the one which most awakens God's indignation, and moves him to say, "Let him alone." And then if the awful summons to God's tribunal go forth, while the sleep of unconscious guilt, of unfelt danger, and unrepented sin, be still on the soul, can there be any doubt as to what the sentence there pronounced will be? Ah, no! For those who have been aroused from the sleep of indifference only to fall into the still deeper sleep of death, none other fate can be reserved, by an all-seeing Judge and just God, than that prepared for the devil and his angels. From such an end the erring Kitty, by the exceeding mercy of her Saviour, was snatched, as a brand from the burning. In the startling voice of unexpected trial, the Almighty spoke to her, and said, "Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee life." And the words of warning and encouragement were not uttered in vain. Nor, we may hope, even at the time of which I have been speaking, when Kitty Mc Hale was lovely, happy, and beloved, was her heart entirely insensible to the sin which she had committed, nor callous as to its consequences. No! conscience (she afterwards said to me) often made itself heard, and told her that she had dishonoured her parents, and had

This notice is indebted to the article Cephalopoda in the "National Cyclopædia." London: Knight.

sinned against light and knowledge, by vowing to obey one whose religious principles were not such as she could approve; whose notions of right and wrong, she knew, must on almost all points differ from those which she had been taught to consider correct; and whose wishes and commands it might, in many cases, be impossible for her conscientiously to comply with or obey. Some such thoughts as these doubtless crowded into the poor girl's mind the first time she saw Mr. Morton, after her marriage, and subsequent return to Elford; for her gaiety forsook her, her sunny smile vanished, her lips quivered, and at last she burst into tears. The rector

kindly took her hand, and spoke gently, yet

firmly.

"Čry on, Kitty," he said; "cry on; I had rather see you thus, than gay and thoughtless, as they told me you were. Don't be ashamed of your tears: they show that conscience is not yet dead in your breast; they tell me that your misconduct and self-will have not yet 'quenched the Spirit;' I pray God they never may. How I wish you had never left Elford, Kitty! but God's will, not mine, be done. At all events, I am very glad to see you back again, child," the good pastor continued, while he made the wanderer sit down beside him, as she had been wont: "and I wish you were not going to leave us again." "Thank you kindly, sir," Kitty replied, "And how is Mr. Relton, sir? she asked ; smiling through her tears. "and how have you been? And-"

much the same us usual, thank you; but before I "Mr. Relton is quite well; and I've been have a little serious talk with you; I must not tell you about your old friends, Kitty, I must forget that I am your spiritual pastor, you know, as well as your old friend. Since I saw you last, a great change has taken place in you, Kitty; perhaps not in years, a child; you are now a you were then, in deed and in thought, though woman. You have, what is generally called, entered upon life, and that life you have begun by a false and dangerous step; it is now your duty, it will be your duty during the whole of your pilgrimage on earth, to repent of your wilful and selfish conduct, and to pray to God to save yourself and others from the dreadful consequences which may result from it. Do not think speaking thus plainly to you; believe me, I am me unkind, Kitty," Mr. Morton continued, " in actuated by no other motive than a sincere desire to be of service to you, and to do my own sacred duty, when I tell you solemnly, that I consider in deep humiliation, before you can hope to be conduct to be such as must be repented of, blessed by God, and consequently happy." uttered. "I thank you, sir," was the reply, meekly "I know you mean it kindly.' "Ay, indeed I do, Kitty; and now tell me, what are your prospects in life? earthly prospects, mean. What is your husband?"

your

I

"He is head-man in one of the cotton manufactories at L--, and is very well off, but indeed, sir, it was not that--"

"That made you anxious to share his fortunes; no, no, Kitty, I am sure it was not. Mc Hale found out the way to please you, that was it; was it not?" he said, smiling; and Kitty, though

still subdued in her manner, smiled too. "Well, you must bring him up to the rectory to see me." "Ryan, I'm sure will be proud to come, sir, as soon as he gets home; but when we got to Bristol he was kept longer than he expected by business: so I came on alone; and he has not been able to join me yet."

"As soon as he does arrive, then, I shall hope to see him; and now tell me more about your self. Suppose you have children, in what faith are they to be educated?"

"O, sir, Ryan says he doesn't care; I may do just as I like: so of course they will be protest

ants."

Mr. Morton shook his head, and was silent. "Are you not glad to hear it, sir ?" Kitty inquired timidly.

"I am glad to hear that your children, should God confide any to your care, are to be saved from the gross errors of popery, but I am not glad to hear that your husband does not care about it, does not think the all-important subject, that is, worthy a thought. If he is not a Roman catholic in spirit, as well as by name and in profession, what religion has he?

"He goes to mass sometimes."

"Alas! Kitty, that religion must indeed be 'neither hot nor cold,' and therefore vain, unprofitable, and 'nothing worth,' which leads its professor only sometimes to worship his God, in the house dedicated to his service. O, if such be the religion of your husband, pray for him; night and day, Kitty, pray for him. Error, though dangerous, is not half so dangerous as indifference; in religion, nothing is so fatal as that."

The rector paused, and there was a silence of some moments: at length, a new thought seemed to strike him, and he said

"I expected to have heard that your husband was a rigid Romanist, Kitty; it may in mercy be ordained that he is not so. God forbid that I should palliate your fault, or advocate the popish doctrine, which allows the commission of evil deeds for the furtherance of holy ends; but it may be decreed (for who can fathom the mercy of our heavenly Father, or say how often he will Vouchsafe to bring good out of evil!) it may by him be decreed, Kitty, that you should gain your husband,' win his soul to Christ, and be the happy instrument of his conversion. You have no right to hope, much less to expect, so blessed a termination of a course begun in a wrong spirit, and by a wrong action; but you may pray for it: to the vilest culprit that privilege is granted by the God whose very nature is love: humble yourself, therefore, my child, before him, make the most of this inestimable privilege; and may it be to you the blessing which it has proved to me in my many trials."

"Do you not think, sir, that Ryan would give greater heed to your words, if you spoke to him, than to any thing I could say

יי?

"I will do so willingly; but you mistake my meaning, if you think that it is to words I look, as the means whereby Mc Hale's conversion is most likely to be effected. He is not what I expected to find him, a bigoted papist; he is, I fear, one who has no creed at all: arguments, therefore, would be of no avail; for his errors are those of the heart, and not of the understanding. Be

sides, arguments in a woman's, and above all in a wife's, hands, are dangerous weapons, and ought never to be resorted to, but as a means of selfdefence. Should your husband ever attempt to shake your faith, then you must strive to give an account of the hope that is in you; but, until he do so, let meekness, gentleness, and charity, on your part, with the strict fulfilment of all your duties as a wife and a Christian, plead for the religion you profess: they will prove more convincing than any arguments, however well chosen and sustained.

"But, sir, how can I ever hope to be all you say?"

"With God all things are possible, Kitty: look to him for strength; and it shall be given you. With him is plenteous redemption; and his favour shall compass you about, and guard you, as with a shield. Do not suppose, however, that I would lead you to expect the struggle in which I trust you are about to engage with your besetting sins (namely, wilfulness, and a thoughtless disregard of others; which is, in effect, selfishness) to be either easy to maintain, or speedily brought to an issue. Far from it: it will be a life-long conflict, and one probably fraught with sorrows and embarrassments. Still be not discouraged; be not weary in well doing, but be patient in tribulation, abiding always in hope, even though sorely tried by disappointments, and harrassed by enemies both from within and from without. Expect all these trials; and you will be prepared to bear them manfully; to be forewarned is to be fore-armed you know; and, when they do assail you, let the only murmur which escapes your lips be one of prayer: In all my struggles, conflicts, woes, great God, remem

ber me.'

"I know," said Kitty, after a pause, 66 I know, sir, that all you say about my faults is quite true; I wish heartily it were not; but, if I might be so bold as to say it, sir, I do not quite see what my marriage has to do with them."

"I suppose you mean you do not see what your faults have to do with your marriage, Kitty," Mr. Morton replied with a smile; "nor why, since that has taken place, you are more especially bound to struggle against, and, if possible, overcome them? I will tell you: against the dictates of conscience, the advice of your pastor, and the wish of your fond parents, you married Mc Hale. Surely, had you not been selfish, wilful, and regardless of the feelings of others; surely, in the face of such serious objections, you would not have determined to become his wife. But selfishness (understand me, selfishness not intentional, but arising from natural thoughtlessness and habitual indulgence), selfishness, I say, and obstinacy lurked in your heart: you followed their dictates; and sin, undeniable sin, was the consequence. Now, after a sin has been committed, there is but one course to be pursued by the sinner, whereby to gain forgiveness and peace. It is, as far as in him lies, to make restitution, or reparation, as the case may require, to the person or persons sinned against-to turn away from the sin by penitence, and to turn unto God by heartfelt repentance. To your parents, Kitty, for the anxiety you have caused, and will cause them, you can offer no repentance, save

that of the happiness they will experience at seeing you striving, and with God's help succeeding, in eradicating those evil propensities, of which they have beheld, and tasted the bitter fruit. And, before God, can you dare to hope to be held guiltless until your contrition be expressed by something more than mere words? Believe me, no words can constitute repentance. No, ere you may venture to think that your Saviour can regard you as a dutiful child, you must not only be sorry for your sin, but be stedfastly purposed to lead a new life, and have taken many steps in the right direction. And now, Kitty, let me beg of you not to think that I am making a serious matter of a mere trifle, when I speak thus gravely of your marriage, and the duties and responsibilities which it has entailed upon you. I do not speak more strongly on the subject than I feel; could I find words even more forcible by which to set before you in a still clearer point of view the serious light in which I view the worse than inconsiderate step which you have taken, I would employ them; so heinous an offence do I conceive it to be in the eyes of God to disregard the voice of conscience. Once more, Kitty," Mr. Morton continued, 66 once more, let me entreat you not to persuade yourself, or allow others to persuade you, that it is my old age and infirmities which make me take a sombre view of things, and lead me to regard that as a crime which is only the natural effect of youthful feelings and a warm heart. Old I am, Kitty, aye, and infirm; but, I thank God, I view with a jaundiced eye neither this beautiful world nor the creatures of his hand who dwell in it; do not believe that I do, my child."

"How could you for a minute think that I should, dear Mr. Morton ?" said Kitty, in the sweet tones of her childhood, at the same time taking his hand affectionately. Lovingly the rector returned the kindly pressure, and, when he withdrew his hand, it was only to lay it on her head, as he had been wont to lay it, whenever he parted from his little friend, ever since she had been old enough to toddle to his knee, and stand there to hear the "pretty bible stories" of which she had been so fond. The circumstance recalled old and happy times to Mr. Morton's mind, and his voice trembled as he gave her the accustomed blessing. It was not the same, however, that Kitty had been used to receive; but it was one no less fond and fervent. "May you ever hold you fast in the Lord, and abide patiently in him, Kitty Mc Hale," said the venerable pastor in a solemn voice;" may your sins be blotted out by the blood of the Lamb; may you be numbered among the children of God; and may his peace ever rule in your heart."

Mc Hale came to Elford St. Mary: he received a kindly welcome from the father and mother of his bride, whom he pleased by the attachment he evinced towards her; and Kitty's old companions all deemed her the happiest of the happy, in having for her husband one so fond, so handsome, and so well endowed with this world's wealth. And Kitty seemed to think so too: her eye had never sparkled so brightly, the tones of her voice had never been so glad, nor her look so proudly happy as, when seated by her husband's side, she seemed to challenge for him the admiration of all

around, whilst she herself listened to his words, and gazed fondly on his handsome face. Yes, Mc Hale was, doubtless, handsome; but little fault could be found with his features, and his stalwart form was cast in the very mould for manly symmetry and strength; yet, there was a certain something about him from which the eye shrunk. Deeply interested in Ryan as the husband of Kitty, I scanned his physiognomy closely, and I fancied Í could trace that displeasing look to the mouth. Now the thin lip curled-whether in scorn, or with a smile, it was often difficult to determinenow it was for a moment tightly drawn over his teeth; then again the corners of the mouth would droop, and give to the face an expression of moody sadness, or sickly discontent. Such sudden and unaccountable changes in the expression of the most speaking feature of Mc Hale's face boded no good to her who had linked her fortunes to his. The result of my observations on Mc Hale I communicated to Mr. Morton, who quite concurred with me in feeling sure that he was not the mere goodnatured, thoughtless sort of person which Kitty had described him, and which he had at first appeared to be. "There is great determination depicted on his countenance," said the rector, "and his every motion and gesture, when he is at all interested or excited, bespeaks decision of character, and promptitude in action."

"Yet," I observed, " Mc Hale is naturally indolent; at least so Kitty says."

"Ah," Mr. Morton replied, "Kitty has got to find out what her husband really is. Not, however, that habitual indolence and occasional astonishing activity and bold decision are incompatible. They may, and very often do, exist in the same character. Those persons who are generally considered good-tempered easy-going people are of all men the most violent in their anger, when their passions are aroused. So, those who are generally indifferent to the ordering of affairs are often (if the wish to rule in some particular instance takes them) the most speedy in taking their resolution, and the most hopelessly dogged in their adhesion to it.”

"Your remarks are no doubt just, sir," I replied; "and, with regard to Mc Hale (as they apply to him), you think that on the subject of religion, should he ever take it seriously into consideration, he will prove anything but the facile, complying person he usually appears.'

66

Yes, such is my fear."

"Have you yet had no opportunity of speaking to him upon serious topics, sir, to see if his attachment to the Romish church be merely nominal, as Kitty asserts, or really founded on conviction ?"

"No, as yet my conversations with Mc Hale have all been on indifferent subjects. You know my rule," he continued with a smile, "never to speak to any one on his higher, his immortal interests, until I have expressed, and induced him to believe that I feel a lively concern in his less important, but too often more absorbing intereststhose, I mean, connected with time. Preaching, whether in the pulpit or by the fireside, is, alas! considered the parson's trade, and nothing more. O, he is paid to give it to us,' is the language of the heart, if not of the lips, of many to whom Christ's ministers give counsel or admonition: