gested to me a few verses, which I thought of sending, to see if they are fit to appear in better company in his Spring volume; but I believe they will be too late for it.' TO THE SNOW-DROP. Hail! rocked by winter's icy gale, Thou com'st to hear sad nature's wail, Fair hermit, stains thy pearly form; Thou meekly bow'st thy head before the sweeping storm. Rising amid our garden bowers, That yield to thee no sheltering screen, Thou bidst us hope for brighter hours, When spring shall weave her wreath of green. Nor there alone, in some lone glade, Deserted now by all but thee, Thou mark'st the spot where breezes strayed, 'Mong summer's richest bloom; that lured the wandering bee. Tho' one and all, the smiling train, On the forsaken bank have died, The dews of eve have fallen in vain ; And morn has called, but none replied ;— Yet lingering there in pensive grace, Thou mourn'st alone the wreck of time; The cottar's ruined dwelling-place, The evening hearth of old, the happy voices' chime. *The damask rose, the daffodil, or the stock of an old bullace plum, will long remain, and point out where once a cottage existed; but all these, and most other tokens, in time waste away; while the snow-drop will remain, increase, and become the only memorial of man and his labours.'—Journal of a Naturalist. And shall we call this earth our own, Where souls made pure shall find their rest, And all the gathered flock are with their shepherd blest!' M. L. D. CHAPTER XI. PAROCHIAL SOLICITUDES MATERNAL EMOTIONS. Two brothers passed their week of respite from study at the close of the year, with her; and George, then at Glasgow College, wrote to his mother:- I enjoyed a pleasant Sabbath, and Mary took R. and me, after church, to pass some time alone, when we all three prayed. It reminded me forcibly of the time when we used to meet with you for a similar purpose.' To him she wrote, after he had returned to his studies:- Kinross, Feb. 7, 1837. I have stolen away from a friend's drawing room, to pen such a note as I have time for. I am sorry you have had influenza, and hope you are strong again. Such slight discipline should make us look well to our ways, and see why our kind Lord smites us; lest, by refusing the intended lesson, we draw on us sorer punishment. I hope that, whether confined in solitude, or in the midst of the lively interest of your classes, you keep near Him, and seek Him as the companion of all your ways. I was struck lately by reading the answer of a good man to those appointed to try if he was fit for the ministry. They asked if he had felt a work of grace in his heart. He replied, "I call the Searcher of hearts to witness that I make conscience of my very thoughts." What a proof of sincerity! What a sure way to have the light of God's presence shining on his path! Often we chase away the Spirit, by indulging vain and profitless thoughts, and being thrown off our watch, we lose, through their wily insinuations, our peace and joy in believing; and our hearts grow cold, and our graces languish. These vain thoughts produce vain words; and we do a great amount of mischief to those we ought to help onward to our heavenly home. Oh! my dear brother, let us together try to guard those traitor thoughts, and keep all the secret recesses of our spirits open, for the pure life-giving beams of the Sun of glory. Then we shall fulfil the great end of our being, by growing into the image of God, and we shall benefit our dear ones, and all with whom we shall come in contact; for do you remember those words, so full of precept for us, "the tongue of the righteous is a fountain of life," and again," the lips of the righteous feed many." The best guard against vain thoughts is a heart much at the feet of Jesus, constantly drawing near to the mercy seat, and exercising itself in loving fervent prayer; for how can vanity find a place in the consecrated temple of the living God? I did not mean to write all this; I know not how I have been led to it; but tell me soon your state of mind, and then I shall know better what to say.' To her excellent friend near London, who was confined by bodily infirmity, to a limited circle of occupations, she wrote, unfolding some of her fears as to her performance of duty : Jan. 1837. * * *My friend, when you are admitted to that lovely home for which you wait, will it not be joy to you, that so many days on earth were spent in the sombre shade of trial, if so you have been brought at all nearer to Jesus. Even now How much more when the time you can feel it so. of probation is ended. But these cheering hopes are not always admitted. If they were, sorrow would be all joy. The downcast heart mourns the multitude of its sins, and feels as if such comfort were not for it. How sweetly, at such times, sounds the Saviour's voice, "Be of good cheer, I have overcome." Then comes a feeling of shame and contrition that we have doubted, where there is so much abounding love, such willingness to present for us every feeble cry before the mercy-seat, and we return unto our rest-that quiet and beloved haven where we have so long been anchored; and looking out on the storm and cloud which gathered when we left it, we cling more firmly to the Saviour, who, in giving us himself, has freely given us all things. So wayward is my heart, that in the midst of many mercies that enter into my lot, I sometimes look at your retirement with a sigh. My burden is different from yours; but the same unfailing One will strengthen me for it. My position is much less sheltered than ever it was before. You will see how weak I am, when I tell you, that I often shrink back, and wish I were not the person to act and make decisions, but that I had a mother with me still, behind whose shadow to retire as I was wont to do. I make no allusion to situations in which my husband is called to act; there, though even to advise is a great responsibility, it is not the chief. But there are many which peculiarly belong to myself, and I daily feel the want of wisdom to lead me on. I now feel those words, "Ye are as a city set on an hill." The cha |