If such be your feelings, Gertrude, well may a holy calm be shed like dew over your spirit-well may that spirit live in triumphant joy, above the vapours of earth, and sun itself in the unclouded light of a Saviour's smile. But if in any other character you would come before the Most High, remember that all sacrifices for sin, but that of the blood of His only begotten Son, are hateful in His sight. Thus all righteousness but that which God our Saviour has wrought, shall be consumed with the breath of his mouth, and destroyed by the brightness of His coming.' She spoke with deep solemnity, and Gertrude listened in silence. do believe in that glorious atonement, Isabella," she said when she had ceased. "Daily, and oh, how earnestly, do I seek that my heart may be duly prepared to receive its inestimable benefits, prepared by a deep and true repentance, and by a diligent attendance upon all the ordinances provided by the church, whereby we may receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.'

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"Our glorious Redeemer is exalted," replied Mrs Bouverie, " to give repentance and remission of sins. From the first hour, Gertrude, when your eyes opened to the light of a fallen world, you

were prepared to receive the Atonement, for from that hour you were utterly lost without it. This is the only preparation that any individual of our ruined race requires ere he may venture to cast himself without fear at the feet of the Saviour of men, and breathe, with full assurance that it shall not be breathed in vain, the prayer of a contrite heart, 'Lord, save me, I perish.' You need no mediator to open your way to Him, no priest, and no sacrifice wherewith to approach Him. Our kindred Redeemer is nearer to you than man or angel can be; come then without an intercessor and without an offering, come alone to the Saviour of mankind and hear from His lips the words of love, Thy sins are forgiven thee, go in peace.' trude was silent for a few moments. Mrs Bouverie's words seemed like balm to her weary spirit, and an expression of répose and hope shed itself over her countenance, but it soon passed away.

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"I must not listen to you, Isabella," she said, "for your sake and for my own, too, I would not that the guilt should rest upon you of leading me away from the fear so needful and precious to my soul. Let us rather thank God that we both live in him whom God has appointed as the divinely commissioned pastor of this household, one so qualified to guide us, in the way of truth, and to impart to us, in such a manner as may procure our soul's everlasting well-being, the high and solemn mysteries of our holy religion." Gertrude rose as she spoke, and seemed to wish to end their conversation. Mrs Bouverie rose too, and with a saddened heart, was about to leave her, but in passing the table at which Gertrude had been kneeling when she entered the room, her eye fell upon the crucifix that hung above it.. Is it by Mr Vernon's advice that you use this as an aid to your devotion, dear Gertrude ?" she inquired, as she paused for a moment before it. "No," replied Gertrude, "Mr Vernon did not advise it, but he showed it to me one day, as a beautiful piece of workmanship. spoke to him at that time of the universal habit of Catholics to use some representative in painting or sculpture for the purpose of assisting their mind's conceptions of the suffering of our Lord, and concentrating their thoughts in acts of worship upon Him whom they adore. He said that he did not consider it by any means necessary to do so, but that if it was found to aid the soul in the solemn exercise of contemplating the sufferings of our adorable Lord, it was well to bring all that was lovely in nature or art thus to serve Him, and the use of the noble works of the painter or sculptor for such a purpose, was doubtless pleasing in His eyes. Our conversation here was interrupted; and I was about to return him the crucifix, when he begged that I would keep it. I carried it to my room, and, oh, Isabella," Gertrude continued, while an expression of glowing enthusiasm again lightened up her pale features, "could I tell you the hours of sad yet ecstatic contemplation that I have spent before this symbol of our Redeemer's sufferings,

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while I thought my rapt soul was carried to Gethsemane, or stood with the Marys on Calvary's Mount, you would unite with me in blessing that Church, who has thus occupied every avenue to the hearts of her children by representations of the sufferings their Saviour endured for them." Mrs Bouverie replied not. "Have you told Mr Vernon that you thus use his gift in your devotions, Gertrude ?" she inquired at length. "I have," replied Gertrude, "and he said that if I found the contemplation of this emblem of our Redeemer's sufferings, thus elevate my soul to a more exalted contemplation of Him whom it represented, I did rightly in using it, and that such effects from beholding it were special marks of the favour of Heaven to my soul." Mrs Bouverie sighed deeply, but answered not, and bidding her sister an affectionate "good night," she withdrew.

On the following morning, the whole party from Carbrook began their journey to town, which they reached at a late hour of the evening. The weight that had long oppressed the heart of Constance became lighter as each succeeding hour brought her nearer to the spot where she would so soon meet Sydney, and she seemed to breathe more freely when the hot vapours of London surrounded her, than she had done amidst the pure sea breezes that had ceased to bring buoyancy to her spirit or health to her cheek. The carriage at length stopped in Berkeley Square. Another moment, and she would see him, would hear his voice again. Doubt, suspicion, sadness, all were forgotten, and one thrilling sensation of joy, the pure unmingled joy of re-union with an object fondly and confidingly beloved, pervaded her heart. The door was opened, and she expected to see Sydney hasten to meet her, but servants only issued from the hall. "Where is Mr Bouverie?" enquired Lady Delamere, in a tone of disappointment. "Mr Bouverie left town this morning," replied the house steward as he respectfully approached, accompanied only by his valet. He said that he should be absent for a few days, but

he has left a note for your ladyship in the saloon. With an undefined feeling of anxiety, awakened by conduct so unlike the warm affection which usually dictated all Sydney's actions, Lady Delamere hastened to the saloon. She was followed by Constance, Lord Delamere, and Mr Vernon, who had been her travelling companions. She found a note from Sydney for herself, and one lying beside it, addressed in his hand-writing to Vernon. "Does your note contain any thing definite regarding the cause of Sydney's sudden departure, Mr Vernon?" enquired Lady Delamere, when she had hastily glanced over her own. "He only says to me, that important business of an unexpected nature had obliged him to leave town, but that he hopes to be with us again in a few days." "He does not give me any imformation beyond that," replied Vernon, as he calmly folded the note which he appeared to have read, and placed it in his pocket-book. His eyes, as he raised them, met the searching gaze of Mrs Bouverie, who had entered the saloon while they spoke. For an instant they fell beneath that gaze, but the next moment he raised them, and addressing Mrs Bouverie, expressed his disappointment in not meeting his friend, and then passed on to talk of some indifferent subject with such perfect calmness of look and manner, that she almost felt ashamed of the undefined suspicion that had passed across her mind, and sought to dismiss it, as entirely without foundation. Constance retired early to her room, pleading a severe headache as her excuse. It was no false one. Her spirit had been once more plunged into its conflict with distrust and sorrow. The sadness that thus had resumed its empire with a sway that seemed scarcely warranted by the probable shortness of the period that would delay the fulfilment of her bright visions, was deepened into an almost hopeless gloom, when with the sudden disappointment of her hopes was blended the remembrance that Sydney might return indeed, but not to her. She hastily finished her toilette, and dismissed her maid, but though she had longed to be

alone, the feeling of solitude pressed heavily upon her spirit. From the time of Sydney's departure until now, she had loved best to be alone, for the presence of the loved one had been like a halo around her. And though the passage from Sydney's letter, read aloud by Vernon, had shaken the fabric of her happiness, for the time, to its very foundation, hope and confidence, in her heart so strong and almost indestructible, had propped it ere it fell, and the passing storm of feeling that a cruel word had raised, had left it almost unscathed. But now, if Sydney indeed loved her, would he have left her thus? Though business of imperative necessity might have called him thus suddenly away, would he not have written some message of regret, some word of hope that their meeting was but for a short time delayed? Even their relationship as cousins, their intimacy as friends, warranted such tokens of affection. How different would have been the course of action dictated by feelings such as hers.

She had been restlessly pacing the room while these thoughts in rapid succession passed across her mind, She now sat down on a chair near the fire, and fixing her eyes listlessly on the glowing embers, remained long buried in profound meditation. A few tears at last rolled slowly down her cheeks, but they seemed not to relieve the heart from whence they flowed. A change had passed over that young spirit within the last few weeks; a blight had fallen upon its spring-time, and the sparkling fountains of hope and joy already begun to dry up at their source.

The heart of Constance was not the only unquiet one that passed the hours of that night in restless watching. Midnight had long passed, and the grey light of the early spring morning had already begun to pene trate the fogs of a London atmosphere, but Vernon's couch was still unpressed. The embers had died upon his hearth, and the light of the night lamp faded before the beam of day, as he still sat writing by a table on the hearth. An open letter lay by his side. Pausing for a few moments in his occupation,

he leant forward in an attitude of profound meditation. His cheek was pale, and the contraction of his brow and swollen veins of his temples bore witness to the internal conflict that had been, but it seemed over now, and an air of stern unrelenting determination was impressed upon every feature. He took the letter that lay near, and re-perused it. It was that which he had received on the preceding evening from Sydney.

"My kind faithful friend," began his unsuspecting victim. "I thank you for your letter, desolating as has been the blight to all my hopes, which its contents conveyed. Yes, my friend, I truly feel that I can trust you"-a slight shade of emotion for a moment agitated Vernon's countenance "Can fearlessly rest both in your wisdom and tenderness. And oh amidst the anguish of the thought that I am probably about to part from Constance for ever; for ever to relinquish, at least, the hope of calling her mine, amidst the still more bitter pang of knowing that she can lightly despise such love as I have borne her, your faithful friendship, your true and deep affection, yield a balm to my wounded spirit that no other earthly source could afford. I have followed your advice in leaving town for a few days, until I shall have arranged my future plans. I shall probably return about the end of next week, and shall enjoy the comfort of your society for a short time previous to my departure for the Continent. Could you have accompanied me, your presence would have beguiled many of the weary hours which alone I anticipate in the scenes ever so attractive to us both." non folded the letter, and laid it aside, then resuming his pen, he continued to write. "Sydney has fallen into the snare with a facility that has almost surprised me.. Yet it ought not to have done so, for his character is singularly generous and unsuspecting." He paused for a moment, and passed his hand across his brow, but the next instant he resumed his occupation, while an expression of more rigid determination than ever, sat upon his brow and closely compressed lips. "He

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will set out upon his tour in about a fortnight or less, and I shall give due intimation, most Reverend Father, of all the places at which he will stop on his route, but his destination is Rome, and he will not linger long by the way. Some care will be needful to prevent any private communication between him and Miss Lyndsay during his brief sojourn in town. They are so passionately attached to each other, and both so open and confiding, that a single interview might find out the whole of our designs, and unite them beyond the power of human effort—at least in this country-to sever. When

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Sydney is once gone, I fear nothing. Miss Lyndsay's haughty spirit shall soon own a sway that now she scorns." He ceased, a momentary flush tinged his pale cheek, and a smile curled his lip, such as that with which the Archfiend might contemplate the ruin of some fated victim who had mocked his power. It passed, and rapidly concluding his dispatches, he sealed and addressed them ; then ringing for his confidential servant, he committed them to his care, and throwing himself on his couch, sought an hour of disturbed repose.

THE general efforts of the British Anti-State Church Association preparatory to another Conference, and, in particular, their employment of a Deputation in Scotland for the promotion of their objects, provide us with an opportunity to speak much that we have thought concerning its constitution and operations. Yet it is no design of ours to be its historian, nor even to describe its organization. Its own account of its rise, its objects, and its means, has been long before the world; and no one, we believe, who has read it, has questioned its correctness. Our chief, we may rather say our only, aim in the present paper, is to direct the attention of its members, and of all who look to us for guidance, to such points in its constitution and its policy as, if prolonged, will necessarily, we think, exclude it from general esteem, and finally effect its dissolution.

The Association must at present be considered an abortion. Dr Price, indeed, one of its twin heads, has thought proper to deprecate such a supposition, for in his lately published and widelycirculated letter, inviting to more

general co-operation with the Association, he has striven to appear the benefactor of his brethren, rather than their supplicant in forma pauperis.* Dr Price, no doubt, believes himself, but in this matter his faith will hardly find a copyist. His very deprecation forces the conviction that he dreads. He knows mankind too well to be surprised if the suspicion be engendered, that he neither believes himself, nor respects the friends whom he strives by such means to conciliate. When a National Association, towards the close of the third year of its existence, is without funds and without credit; has but one stipendary advocate, and not many more than one gratuitous and active; finds it hard to secure a "local habitation,” and impossible to obtain a banker; is unable to point to a single efficient provincial committee, and is not unfrequently represented by less than a quorum of its central executive; is deserted by many, and neglected by the larger part of those who personally aided in its first formation, while scarcely a new adherent can be mentioned; and, having seen at the last

annual meeting of its Council of Five Hundred, an attendance of not fifty, deems it imperative to use special pressure, lest the approaching triennial conference of its associates and friends should prove altogether ludicrous; its treasurer and voluntary champion should assume, we think, an humbler attitude than Dr Price's, and discourse in strains more confiding and transparent than those he has thought proper to employ. His knowledge of the minutest and most secret facts in the Association's course, is inferior to no man's-Mr Miall's only is its equal. Those, therefore, to whom these gentlemen appeal for future aid, have a right to be informed by them of every fact indicative of the policy hitherto pursued, and of the success, or the failure, or the mingled consequences to which that policy has led. At least they ought not to be addressed as they have been by Dr Price, for when even a superficial glance discovers facts such as we have mentioned, to assume that the results reflect honour only on the leaders, and that not only are their plans the best, but themselves are now approved and unimpeachable executors, betokens either a desire to impose on others, or an actual imposition on one's self; either deadness to the public's rights, or blindness to one's own position; in any way, deficiency in some essentials for the conductor of his equal brethren.

We do not undervalue what the Association has performed. It has published many respectable and serviceable tracts; it has caused the delivery of some suggestive and awakening lectures, and of many more and not contemptible speeches; and by these means, together with the fact of its existence, it has done a little towards familiarizing the minds of the Dissenters, not to say of others, with the true points of discussion between them and the "Establishments." It has also assisted to detect the actual condition of the Dissenters themselves, and to furnish materials for a computation of the numbers, or the rare individuals among them, who believe 66 Establishments" to be Anti-Christian, and are willing to co-operate for

their dissolution. All this, now, is a good; we rejoice in its attainment; we regret that a larger measure of it has not been attained; and though it may not be our duty to aid in the endeavour, we shall neither blame nor. envy if the Association, in default of something better, under its present name and with its present leaders, persist in an endeavour which ends in good of such a kind, accompanied, moreover, we believe, with but a very small amount of evil. We rather complain that the Association has done too little, than that it has done too much; and we add to this complaint a heavier, that its past policy has been so suicidal, and that it seems more willing to effect its self-destruction, than quick in its distress to consider itself fallible.

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The errors which, we think, the Association has committed, are errors of judgment, principle, and spirit, rather than of incapacity and inadvertence ; errors in which spiritual ignorance is visible, rather than such whose most faulty element is more purely intellectual. They are the errors, therefore, of the leaders, more than of the general constituency; and though for form's sake, or from delicacy, we may speak of the Association, we wish to be understood as referring to its heads. exclusively. They are prompt enough, Mr Miall especially, to evoke public opinion against others; we call for its verdict on themselves. We do not ask, however, for such censures would drive them from the leadership they have assumed; all that we would elicit is a practical display of the public's resolution, to confide only where trustworthiness has first been amply shown. We content ourselves with asserting, that the last three years campaign has not brought forth to view the qualifications of a general. They may exist, but, we confess, we know not where. Yet opportunity was not wanting for their exhibition, and resources enough for an experiment were placed at the disposal of the men who raised the rallying cry. In such circumstances, inefficiency suggests incompetency; failure, unworthiness; defeat, deposition. A little good, how