beloved parent, they were taken by their uncle to his residence at Linburn-Hall. Here they were most affectionately received by Mrs. Llewellyn; and in the society of Louisa, their only child, who was about the age of Raymond, they soon appeared to forget their sorrows. Mrs. Leslie had been an especial favourite of her brother's: he therefore, for his sister's sake, loved her children; and Mrs. Llewellyn was equally disposed to treat them with a mother's tenderness.

The secession of Mrs. Leslie from the Romish Church had been to the family at LinburnHall a source of painful regret. Her eminently peaceful departure had, however, at least in her brother's mind, awakened some degree of doubt, and in a slight measure shaken his faith. "Was she in error, or not?" Mr. Llewellyn would inquire, when musing on her end but it was a question he could not resolve; and the idea of her being for ever lost was too agonizing to be indulged. His feelings, at all times exquisitely acute, would on some occasions become irrepressible; and he would exclaim, "O, my sister! my dear, my beloved sister! would to heaven I could be assured of thy happiness!" "But if she were right, am I not in error?" was a reflection that quickly followed; and his mind in its researches after

truth could find no satisfactory resting-place. The innocent remarks of the children often excited painful emotions; for, though young, they had been well instructed. think it wrong, uncle, to kneel

"You do not

before a picture?" said Raymond, artlessly. "Mamma used to tell us we must pray only to God, for neither saint nor angel could hear prayer." "And where did your mamma learn this, my boy?" inquired his uncle.

"From the Bible, uncle. It says, 'Thou shalt not bow down to any graven image, nor the likeness of anything that is in heaven, or on the earth; but it tells us that God is a God hearing prayer, and that He will give us the desire of our hearts."

"Very true, my dear," said Mr. Llewellyn, hastily; and he immediately changed the subject, feeling at a loss how to answer the child's remarks. Notwithstanding, they made a deep impression on his mind, and his conscience was by no means at rest when endeavouring to instil into them the tenets of Popery.

CHAPTER II.

"Thoughts have gone forth, whose powers may sleep

no more."

TIME rolled on. Raymond had attained his fourteenth year; and up to this period had been educated with his sister and cousin, by masters at their own residence. They had all made considerable proficiency in their studies, and Mr. Llewellyn now determined to send them from home to complete their education. But where were they to be sent? To separate Helen and Louisa would not do. They had been instructed by the same masters, engaged in the same pursuits, and loved each other as sisters. He well knew that it would be in direct opposition to his sister's wishes to place her children at a Roman Catholic seminary; and to send Louisa to one of another description, would, in all probability, weaken, if it did not entirely destroy, the principles which, for nearly fourteen years, he had been sedulously endeavouring to instil. Had not his faith in Popery been weakened, he would not for one moment have hesitated; but the impressive charge of a dying sistera sister endeared by a thousand touching recol

lections could not be forgotten, and he felt that to do what would at one time have appeared imperative duty, would be injustice to her memory, and at the same time cause him no little disquiet.

Mrs. Llewellyn did not participate in these feelings. Her attachment to the religion of her forefathers was as strong as ever; and she was alarmed at the idea of the children being placed at seminaries where they might be tempted to abjure the Romish faith. "They are already inclined to be too much like their mother," said she; "and I tremble lest our dear Louisa should have imbibed from them sentiments that would be awfully dangerous, and destructive to her happiness."

"I rather fear, my love," said Mr. Llewellyn, to whom this observation was addressed, "that we have succeeded but too well in banishing all such sentiments from their minds. Our plan of education has not been at all calculated to foster their early impressions; and I should imagine that, by this time, every vestige of that religious instruction which their beloved parent was so anxious to communicate, is completely effaced from their minds."

"It would, indeed, be well, if it were so," returned Mrs. Llewellyn. "But early impres

C

sions are so durable. Helen, in disposition, closely resembles her mamma: there is all her pliancy of temper, anxiety to please, and, at the same time, perhaps, even more firmness in the discharge of what appears duty."

"Yes, she is a sweet, an engaging child!" exclaimed Mr. Llewellyn warmly.

"But what I mean to say is this," continued his lady: "should Helen have intercourse with those whose sentiments on religious subjects are in accordance with those of her mamma, the affection she has for her memory would induce her at once to imbibe them. I am not so afraid of Raymond; for, though older than Helen, his mamma's opinions do not seem to be so deeply rooted in his mind."

"No," said Mr. Llewellyn, thoughtfully: "Raymond is too much like his cousin Louisa, and I fear everything serious has less of his attention than it ought to have."

"That may be the case," returned Mrs. Llewellyn. "Now, Helen is much more thoughtful, and often succeeds in drawing Louisa into conversation on the most serious subjects."

"I am glad of it," said Mr. Llewellyn.

66

'But, my dear, I dread the effect of these conversations. Helen so frequently reverts to her mamma, and brings forward her sentiments,