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founded hope that, if they never rose again in this world, they should awake in another and a happier. Surely, if many had such a hope, we should have more good sleepers in the world. And I firmly believe, that every other prescription to ensure good sleep is useless, till this is taken.

CHAPTER VIII.

How long the Vicar suffered under this infirmity of his nature, I am unable to say. The next morning he rose, as he always did very early, and long before his lady approved of his rising. Not but she loved" the sweet hour of prime" herself— but she saw evidently that the good old man daily grew older; and she could not help thinking that more sleep would be good for him. But I believe she was mistaken.-The pure air-the undisturbed possession of God and nature-the quiet bracing of his mind for his daily duties-the order and leisure which early rising secured to him for the day to come; were still better for him. And, sometimes, when, on joining him before breakfast in his study, she saw his face, like that of Moses

after his descent from the Mount, and his high converse with God, glistening with inward peace and joy-with the comfortable, sense of Divine presence-she thought so too.-But, to return.After a day spent, as, upon a dying bed, we shall wish to have spent every day—he sat down again, with a glad heart to his manuscript.

• And now, Sir,' he continued to read, I come to an event in my life, which is not the least interesting to me, as it led to my connection with your self.' The old gentleman involuntarily bowed his head, and read on.-Such is the change in human things, that I, who had a few years since been esteemed too splendid for the pulpit of dissent, was now deemed too shabby. The congregation, as I said, had decayed in piety-but it had increased in wealth. Indeed, this very increase was partly the cause of this very decay. Dissent like every other republic, is less likely to remain pure when it begins to be wealthy! Its purity depends upon its alienation from the world, with which riches have a tendency to incorporate it. So happened it now. The increased riches of the congregation lured it into the vortex of ecclesiastical splendour and the first thing cast overboard was my poor self. It was decided, in vestry, unanimously, with

the exception at least of a single primitivé old gentleman, who most pathetically pleaded the distresses of some poor widows in the congregationthat the" old cushion," as they were pleased to call me, should be discarded, and a new one, becoming the dignity of the congregation, be substituted in my place.'

"Old !!!" said the Vicar, 66' one of the virtues

of Sparta was a reverence for age. And I never heard of a Commonwealth, great or small, which flourished without it. For my part, it is the very age of my cushion which I honor. I never touch it without fancying I lay my hand where Latimer or Ridley have laid their's. I like nothing new in religion-new translations, new doctrines, new systems. It is not a terra incognita in which any new discoveries are to be made." What this speech of the Vicar had to do with the cushion it is difficult to say ; but these wanderings may te excused in a good old man accustomed to short texts and long sermons. He soon returned to his manuscript.

'I confess, Sir, that I heard of my dismissal without regret. My early habits indisposed me to dissent. I felt much tendernesss, indeed, for the scrupulous dissenter, much admiration of their ge

neral zeal, and a hearty desire to co-operate with them for every good end. But I saw nothing which led me to think that, on the whole, the stones of the church would be better employed in building meetings. The Dissenters are often important auxiliaries to the church,-but they would, in my mind, be bad substitutes for it.-But I prooceed. The changes in my circumstances were many and great. I passed through a variety of places of worship. At length, I fell from public into private life. And I shall beg to describe to you a few persons whose private devotions it was my lot to

assist.

Vetusta was the first. She was an aged lady, who to the surprise of a good many gay friends, had lately possessed herself of some devout books, and of myself, and had, moreover, taken down some dubious pictures of nymphs and satyrs in her dressing-room, to fit it up as an oratory.Few people had run a more various course than Vetusta had. She was a woman of unusually strong passions, for which in her earliest years, she found a sufficient employment in a life of ceaseless dissipation. When what is called pleasure ceased to stimulate, she gave herself to books. When books also lost their influence, she found a vacuum which

she hoped religion might fill up. And accordingly, by another roll of the wheel, she took up religion. Sensation was what she wanted-and pleasure, books, devotion, were the successive substances out of which it was to be extracted. All were used much in the same spirit; and it is not harsh to say, that she was just as much a Christian on her knees at sixty, as at her toilet thirty years before. Admitted to her privacies, I narrowly watched this stimulating process. She read, talked, prayed, all that she might feel; and, so that she felt, cared little for the effect of her devotions upon her life and temper.'

"Such religion," said the Vicar, "is little better than dram-drinking. It is more decent, perhaps, but not less noxious. But, my dear," he added, "I would not be harsh. I fear the religion of many an old man is of the same complexion with that of Vetusta. We give ourselves to God, when nothing else will have us ; and think ourselves in search of him, when, in fact, we are only in quest of our early sensations. The question is, whether, if I were young, I should be willing to give the morning of life, the season of enjoyment, to God ?"

"You forget, my love," said his lady, "that you did love and serve God in your youth."

H