considered how painfully difficult it was, fully to understand them herself, and how gratefully she would have listened to any friend who could have acted towards her as she wished to do towards Eleanor. Matilda knew but little of the world and its ways; she placed entire reliance on Sir Alfred's honour and integrity, but still he had said nothing which a brother might not have done, and the more she felt inclined to think of him, the stricter seemed that vigilance with which she ought to watch over her own peace of mind. His eye had been the first to remark Eleanor's want of kindness towards herself, his voice had been the first to speak of sympathy in a sorrow which had so long distressed her, and it would have been a pleasing indulgence to let hope and imagination picture a secret attachment on the part of Sir Alfred, which for some inconceivable reason he could not at once declare. Almost every young man has a tyrannical uncle, or father, or aunt, whose wealth and caprice might be supposed to afford plausible impediments to any decided eclaircissement-but Sir Alfred entertained no expectations from any one he was, according to the modern phrase, "his own father," and quite independent of any one's opinion, so Matilda determined to suppose nothing meant unless distinctly expressed. It was now that she felt the benefit of having been early practised in commanding her own thoughts. No romantic visions of imaginary happiness were allowed to flit through her mind; no exaggerated recollection of past professions, nor any fancied meaning given to words or actions which she could not entirely forget; but after calmly and dispassionately considering all that had passed, she became able to satisfy her heart with the reflection that her happiness had been long since implicitly consigned to the care of Him who ordered all things well. In praying that every event may be ordained for the best, we know not what we ask, unless that petition distinctly pledges us to suffer cheerfully the disappointment of every earthly hope, if necessary to our future wellbeing, for it is seldom that the enjoyment of our desires in a present world is consistent with our safe and speedy preparation for a better and more enduring inheritance. CHAPTER XVI. When I was yet a child, no childish play MILTON. WHEN Matilda re-entered the drawingroom before dinner, she perceived Dr Murray and Sir Alfred engaged in deep and earnest conversation, in which they had both the appearance of being profoundly interested, while she observed with pleasure her venerable friend's rising animation of manner in proportion as he felt himself understood and appreciated by the young Baronet, who delighted to take every opportunity of drawing him aside to a private conference. Matilda had not the slightest intention of joining them, but before she was seated Sir Alfred rose and placed a chair, apparently anxious that she should partake in the same pleasure which he enjoyed so much himself, while, to his no small surprise, Eleanor accompanied her cousin as a volunteer in the little coterie. Miss Fitz-Patrick had such a happy confidence in herself, that she felt, on all occasions, sure of being an acquisition; and whenever she saw people intently conversing, her first impulse was to become one of the party, though generally rather with an intention to lead than to follow. On the present occasion, however, she listened with unusual deference to the conclusion of Dr Murray's discussion respecting the subjects for meditation which are most to be cultivated by the Christian mind; and though what he said had not been at first intended for so many listeners, he continued without showing any apparent consciousness of their augmented numbers. In describing the wide field of thought, and the refreshing streams of pleasure which are thus opened for the heart of man to rejoice in, his own extraordinary powers of reflection, and his impassioned eloquence of expression, became strikingly obvious, and had their usual impressive effect upon all who heard him. Even Eleanor experienced the influence of a heart and understanding so truly elevated; but wherever the feelings ought to be touched, hers were seldom exactly tuned up to concert pitch; and as she always spoke out the first thought that occurred, with out a doubt of its being right, she could not fail to betray the nature of her own reflections. Pleased with all he said, and judging from herself that praise must be always acceptable, she exclaimed, in a tone of real admiration," Dr Murray! how completely you must feel lost in this little country parish!" "Lost! did you say, Miss Fitz-Patrick ?" asked he, with a look of surprise and perplexity. "In what respect?" "Why, there is no opportunity here of distinguishing yourself-no public meetings-no platforms to make speeches on!-and you ought to have the largest church in the kingdom instead of the least." "Little as you think it, the responsibility is more than sufficient, Miss Fitz-Patrick; and could I alter the extent of this parish at all, my first wish would be to diminish it; but the bounds of our habitation are appointed for us, therefore my only desire is to have strength given me in proportion to what is a sacred duty towards the four thousand persons for whose welfare I am in a great degree answerable." "But your learning and talents are thrown away upon people who cannot possibly appreciate them." "My parishioners estimate me precisely as I wish," replied Dr Murray, with a benevolent smile, seeing that for once he must talk of the person who was generally least in his thoughts or conversation-himself. "I trust we all experience that there is no happiness in life equal to that of promoting the happiness of others, and in watching over that of so many, my greatest ambition is to be regarded as the friend and counsellor of each individual. I would not have one of them imagine me above sympathizing in their cares and sorrows, and even in their ignorance, for it has often occurred to me that much of the dissent throughout this kingdom is occasioned by the wide disparity in rank and intellect between the established clergy and their parishioners. It must seem to these poor people as if we could never have suffered like themselves, and could scarcely enter into their ideas, which might account for their being enticed by the ministrations of those who do not intimidate them by a show of superiority. Nothing pleases me more, Miss Fitz-Patrick, than to perceive the perfect readi ness with which my people come to me, and the entire confidence with which they ask my opinion in every emergency. Poor Donald M'Intyre consulted me yes terday about the price of his cart horse, and I was quite flattered to observe the interest he expected me to take in his purchase." 1. But then, Dr Murray, what pleasure can there be |