desperately wicked!' A vain philosophy may boast, if it will, of the innate dignity of man,' and arraign the Divine admonition : but, surely, no one, who examines, with a calm and unbiassed attention, the diversified occurrences of life, can help feeling, and feeling forcibly, its mournful truth. Conscience, it is true, may be stifled when she would whisper, that in the hand of the Lord there is a cup, the wine whereof is red: nevertheless, an hour will arrive, when in his indignation he will pour it out as a cup of trembling; and his enemies shall drink it.'

Lonely, and beautiful almost as imagination can depict, or the craving of happiness desire, was the site of the habitation of du Blesne. At the upper extremity of a lake* whose blue waters and romantic scenery have called forth the eulogies of many an admiring poet and historian, in a glen, terminated abruptly by precipices that rose with an imposing grandeur, stood this sweet abode. Embosomed in woods, where

* The lake of Geneva,

the pine and the cypress blended their capillary leaves, with the more luxuriant foliage of the elm, the oak, and the chesnut, so disposed, as to give effect to, while they here and there intercepted, the unrivalled varieties of hill and valley around, it was alike sheltered from the winds of winter, and shaded from the summer heats. Behind it were rocks, piled on one another in wild confusion to the near limits of the horizon: while, in front, was seen the tumultuous current of the united rivers, and, extending far as the eye could reach, the bright expanse of mountain-waves, where many a picturesque sail was unfurled, swelling gracefully in the breeze.

On the left appeared, as if supporting the distant heavens, the majestic summit of the mistress of the Alps,* with other innumerable eminences, whose awful silence had been alone broken by the light foot of the chamois, as it bounded from cliff to cliff; with that long range of heights, occasionally

* Mont Blanc.

intersected by the bed of some stream that poured its tributary offering into the lake, which girds this enchanting valley to the south. Undulating on the right, in the foreground, lay those pleasant hills,' which overlook Chillon, and the adjacent parts: beyond, ran the continuous chain of the Jura, separating the confederacy from France. Below, on either side, were scattered hamlets, which fancy still represented as the asylum of primitive simplicity; while the fresh verdure of intermingling meadows and vineyards relieved the eye, amidst the sublimer features of the prospect. From the glen, accessible only at the two extremities, though walks had been made along the rocks, and through the wild-woods in every direction, descended an avenue, which winding now over the projections of the hill, and hewing itself among the trees, and again ceding from view along the declivities of upland pastures, agreeably diversified the landscape, and imparted many an indescrib able charm to the loveliness of this retreat.

1

To this delightful and sequestered spot,

Albert du Blesne withdrew.

Fatigued

with the listlessness incident to inaction, and ever attendant on the want of regular pursuit, he had left the scenes of his nativity, and the dull uniformity of the mountains,' as he called it, just at the period when the character begins to receive that bias, which generally accompanies it through life; and had he not been watched over by the eye of Mercy, the dangers that now beset his path would doubtless have proved fatal, not only to his happiness on earth, but, what is of infinitely greater importance, to his well-being beyond all that is evanescent or transitory.

In his parents, du Blesne had had the blessing of irreproachable example, and it still exercised an unadmitted authority over his mind. He could not easily prevail upon himself to over-step the limits of that decorum, which he had witnessed in all their deportment. Its proprieties had become, as it were, incorporated with his being, and had amalgamated with every principle which held the reins of his demeanour. Yet, even this,

beneficial doubtless as it was, was not without its deleterious consequences. Ever inclined as is the depraved heart of man to rest in outward observances, he was induced, from that external purity with which he believed himself, and with which he was, in a great measure, surrounded, to take the shadow for the substance. A form of godliness he had indeed, but he was destitute of its power. It had descended to him, as it were, by inheritance; and he covered himself with it as with a garment.' If he was in any measure alive to the value of eternal things, he had still no abiding impression of the reality of an unseen world. He had attended, and with much solicitude and filial affection, the dying bed, first of his mother, and subsequently of his father, who did not long survive her; and those solemn events, and the friendly admonitions he had then received from the counsellors of his youth, when now about to leave him to his own guidance, had not been without effect. They had rivetted on his memory many of the salutary lessons it had been