Their

any other land. Ebony and rare woods lavishly springing in every direction. The merest labour produces a hundred-fold. The inhabitants hospitable, simple, not idolaters, but the rather imbued with the religious tenets of the Old Testament, as ordained by Moses for the use of the Jews— though with them the head of the house is priest, judge and father in one. Why do they not rival England? I surmise, because they have so little need for exertion. energies are not called forth by labour, and their dispositions are quiescent also. As they have no great virtue, so they have no great vice, but remain stationary, at peace with each other and all the world. Now in Britain we must labour, and that with brains as well as hands, to turn the riches of our little island to the best advantage. And we are indebted to our country being an island for the greater part of our pros perity. In the first place, we are a free people, yet being islanders we must be

united by a bond of union. No country can encroach upon our land, or cramp our energies by constant warfare and interference. We have a boundless highway, which so far from costing us anything to repair, is a source of wealth, and a great cause of the hardy and intrepid race, that we pour forth so unceasingly into all parts of the world. We are not affected by winds, for let them blow either way, the centre of our island benefits by the one coast or the other. And so, my dear wife, if Linton had wished to know wherefore England is so prosperous, he will be able to answer when he returns to us from visiting her coasts and harbours.'

"Such would be his reply doubtless, and my Linton would sit and smile at his mother, while he prompted his father to stun me quite with the statistics of every known island, their habits and customs.

"But to return from this long digression to the origin of it. I am especially pleased at the desire Linton expresses to know his own

island from end to end. And more especially her coast. From the little I have seen, I conjecture that he will have a most interesting time of it. Moreover, he will see new faces, different manners, and will probably lose some of the shyness that rather grows upon him than lessens. How sadly he requires a more youthful companion than either his father or mother! For this, beneficent Father, do I pray, having all faith in that power who bestowed on us the gift of his existence. But not unasked are we to obtain blessings. Therefore, O thou unwearied One, hear, hear the prayers of a mother for her son-be with him in the hour of temptation, in the moment of danger, grant him his heart's desire, and fulfil all his mind, for Christ sake. Amen."

From this time for two months, there are extracts from Linton's letters, more or less interesting. At the end of that time, they appear to have joined him for a short time at Torquay, a place, he fancied, would benefit his father's failing strength.

58

CHAPTER V.

"All round and through the spaces of creation,
No hiding-place of the least air or earth,
Or sea, invisible, untrod, unrained on,

Contains a thing alone.

Not e'en the bird,

That can go up the labyrinthine winds.

Between its pinions, and pursues the summer."

BEDDOES.

THE following extract has proved to record an event of more importance to us, the unborn, than to those who regarded it personally with so much interest:

"I pray God to receive my hearty thanks, as I record the mercy He has vouchsafed us in again receiving such happy letters from my son. And my eyes

fill with tears of joy when I reflect that he

has been the means, under God, of saving a life. He says but little himself, yet I doubt not he fully merits all that his new young friend says. May the life preserved prove acceptable to God, and be, both here and hereafter, a never-failing source of comfort and congratulation to my dear son. My prayers seem to be answered, for never before did Linton express himself so warmly in praise of an almost stranger; while the impulsive letter of the young man, breathes of an ardent sensibility that excites our interest before we have even seen him. I picture him to myself (Linton says he has the handsomest face he ever saw, too beautiful for a man), bright, joyous, and overflowing with spirits, the very companion for my learned, too grave Linton. But I would we knew the cause wherefore he had to leave the other vessel at the so near risk of his life. 'He was in danger,' he saith, and cast himself forth.' What was that danger? It may be that