endeavour to essay all things, she erred somewhat, her sins hurt but herself, so gentle, charitable, and forbearing was she to all others. Her religion was neither harsh nor unlovely, though it became allpervading; it was neither intrusive nor glaring; but it broke spontaneously from a heart sunny with happiness, and overflowed out of its very bounty. We liked to read her diary, which was so voluminous that it filled twenty-six rather thick volumes. She saw a charm and a good in everything, and it appeared not only natural but requisite that she should animate others by the force and vivacity of her observations. It was more the wish of our grandfather than hers, that our father was wholly educated at home.

Thus she writes:

"It would be like parting with the best half of myself, my very heart must go with him, leaving me cold, life-weary, until I saw his beloved face again. But my judgment

bids me decide that Linton should go to school. Already he shows symptoms of constitutional shyness, and a love of home and books, which exceeds even that of his father for them. For his own sake, we should send him out into the world. He was not given us for our happiness only, but to carry on the name of Lovel, and with it, all its duties."

A little later:

"I know not whether to grieve or rejoice; my dear Mr. Lovel will not hear of Linton's leaving us. He argues that we are old, and that by the time he is educated, we shall have passed the allotted age of man, and be summoned from his companionship just as we think to enjoy it. Moreover, his constitution and nervous system are both delicate. If harm should occur to my boy, away from the care and love poured on him here! My God, pardon me in this thing: if I have too little faith, grant ne more; Thou gavest him to us in

.

our old age. In keeping him near us while we live, pardon us if we err, and let the sin fall on our hearts, rather than his. And so I am never to part with him, but by the will of God or his own. What hoards of delight accumulate beneath my mind's eye, as I think of this happiness! He has been mine from his birth, until now, ten delicious years; I may, with God's leave, keep him still, and see him pass from boyhood to youth, perhaps manhood. Sow the seeds, watch them bud, judge for myself of the beauty of the bloom, the richness of the fruit, that is to rise again for immortality. Ah! what can life bestow of greater happiness than this? What are its joys, its honours, its riches and delights, to that feeling in a mother's heart, who has a good son? She has given birth to, reared, trained an Adam for the New Garden of Eden. And God has breathed upon him, and said, 'Behold it is good."

So our father was educated at home,

and under his correct and refined taste, grew up a scholar as learned as his father, imbibing such large quaffs of intellectual pleasure, that he coveted nothing better that the world could give him. As part of his education they spent three months in every year travelling, and the detail of all these expeditions is duly chronicled by our grandmother.

As he approached manhood, and she records her gratitude and happiness that they are spared to be with him so long, we trace hints as to the hope that they may see him happily wedded. In one or two instances it is plainly stated :—

"I have urged my dear Mr. Lovel to accept this second invitation to Warleigh, for as Linton will not go without us, we might miss some happy good for him. I hear the house is full of young people, and I especially wish to see my little connexion, Miss Deane. I find it in my heart to almost imagine her my daughter."

And after the visit, we read:

"Am I too fastidious for my Linton, or do the manners of the young people of the present day displease me? I love young folks, but they must be ingenuous, with the light hearts of youth, joined to a grave reverence for truth. None can be too merry for me, yet may they not be too free; modesty may be too frank, and mirth overflow to pertness. I think the young ladies of the present day strive to tread too quickly into the shoes of their mothers. My little Miss Deane has a wayward frown at times, which already retains a place on her fair countenance. I see she cares for Linton's good word, but I doubt if she has the sense to discern that it is worth having, even at the cost of her little whims. She is a woman unballasted, all unconscious of her noble rank in God's army of Christians. She has no soul that she has ever felt as yet, but is moved to deeds even as