who came to welcome their pastor, turned their eyes towards him at the sound; he explained their meaning to his guest. "That is the signal," said he, " for our evening exercise. This is one of the nights of the week in which some of my parishioners are wont to join in it; a little rustic saloon serves for the chapel of our family, and such of the good people as are with us; if you choose rather to walk out, I will furnish you with an attendant; or here are a few old books, which may afford you some entertainment within."

27. 66 By no means," answered the philosopher; "I will attend Mademoiselle at her devotions." "She is our organist," said La Roche; "our neighborhood is the country of musical mechanism, and I have a small organ fitted up for the purpose of assisting our singing." "It is an additional inducement," replied the other, and they walked into the room together.

28. At the end stood the organ mentioned by La Roche; before it was a curtain, which his daughter drew aside, and, placing herself on a seat within, and drawing the curtain close, so as to save her the awkwardness of an exhibition, began a voluntary, solemn and beautiful in the highest degree. The philosopher was no musician, but he was not altogether insensible to music. This fastened on his mind more strongly, from its beauties being unexpected.

29. The solemn prelude introduced a hymn, in which such of the audience as could sing, immediately joined. The words were mostly taken from holy writ: it spoke the praises of God, and his care of good men. Something was said of the death of the just,-of such as die in the Lord. The organ was touched with a hand less firm,-it paused,-it ceased, and the sobbing of Mademoiselle was heard in its stead.

30. Her father gave a sign for stopping the psalmody, and rose to prayer. He was discomposed at first, and his voice faltered as he spoke; but his heart was in his words, and its warmth overcame his embarrassment. He addressed a Being whom he loved, and he spoke for those he loved. His parishioners caught the ardor of the good old man; even the philosopher felt himself moved, and forgot, for a moment, to think why he should not.

31. La Roche's religion was that of sentiment, not theory, and his guest was averse to disputation: their discourse did not therefore lead to questions concerning the belief of either; yet would the old man sometimes speak of his, from the feelings of a heart impressed with its force, and wishing to spread the pleasure he enjoyed in it.

32. The ideas of his God and his Savior, were so congenial to his mind, that every emotion of it naturally awakened them. A philosopher might have called him an enthusiast: but if he

possessed the fervor of enthusiasts, he was guiltless of their bigotry. "Our Father who art in heaven!" might the good old man say, for he felt it,-and all mankind were his brethren.

33. You regret, my friend," said he to the philosopher, "when my daughter and I talk of the exquisite pleasure derived from music; you regret your want of musical powers and musical feelings; it is a department of soul, you say, which nature has almost denied you, which, from the effects you see it have on others, you are sure must be highly delightful.".

34. "Why should not the same thing be said of religion? Trust me, I feel it in the same way, an energy, an inspiration, which I would not lose for all the blessings of sense, or enjoyments of the world; yet so far from lessening my relish of the pleasures of life, that I find it hightens them all."

66

35. The thought of receiving it from God, adds the blessing of sentiment to that of sensation, in every good thing which I possess; and when calamities overtake me, and I have had my share, it confers a dignity on my affliction, and so lifts me above the world. Man, I know, is but a worm; yet methinks I am allied to God!" It would have been inhuman in our philosopher to cloud, even with a doubt, the sunshine of his belief.

36. His discourse, indeed, was very remote from metaphysical disquisition, or religious controversy. Of all men I ever knew, his ordinary conversation was the least tinctured with pedantry, or liable to dissertation. With La Roche and his

daughter, it was perfectly familiar.

37. The country round them, the manners of the village, the comparison of both with those of England, remarks on the works of favorite authors, on the sentiments they conveyed, and the passions they excited, with many other topics, in which there was an equality, or alternate advantage, among the speakers, were the subjects they talked of.

38. Their hours too of riding and walking were many, in which to the philosopher, as a stranger, were shown the remarkable scenes and curiosities of the country. They would sometimes make little expeditions, to contemplate, in different attitudes, those astonishing mountains, the cliffs of which, covered with eternal snows, and sometimes shooting into fantastic shapes, form the termination of most of the Swiss prospects.

39. Our philosopher asked many questions, as to their natural history and productions. La Roche observed the sublimity of the ideas, which the view of their stupendous summits, inaccessible to mortal foot, was calculated to inspire, which, said he, naturally leads the mind to that Being by whom their foun dations were laid. "They are not seen in Flanders," said Mademoiselle, with a sigh. "That is an odd remark," said

the philosopher, smiling. She blushed, and he inquired no farther.*

40. It was with regret he left a society in which he found himself so happy; but he settled with La Roche and his daughter a plan of correspondence; and they took his promise, that if ever he came within fifty leagues of their dwelling, he would travel those fifty leagues to visit them.

41. About three years after, our philosopher was on a visit at Geneva; the promise he made to La Roche and his daughter, on his former visit, was recalled to his mind, by the view of that range of mountains, on a part of which they had often looked together.

42. There was a reproach too, conveyed along with the recollection, for his having failed to write to either of them for several months past. The truth was, that indolence was the habit most natural to him, from which he was not easily roused by the claims of correspondence, either of his friends or his enemies; when the latter drew their pens in controversy, they were often unanswered, as well as the former.

43. While he was hesitating about a visit to La Roche, which he wished to make, but found the effort rather too much for him, he received a letter from the old man, which had been forwarded to him from Paris, where he had then fixed his residence.

44. It contained a gentle complaint of the philosopher's want of punctuality, but an assurance of continued gratitude for his former good offices, and as a friend whom the writer considered interested in his family; it informed him of the approaching nupitals of Mademoiselle La Roche, with a young man, a relation of her own, and formerly a pupil of her father, of the most noble disposition, and respectable character.

45. Attached from their earliest years, they had been separated by his joining one of the subsidiary regiments of the canton, then in the service of a foreign power. In this situation he had distinguished himself as much for courage and mili tary skill, as for the other endowments which he had cultivated at home. The term of his service had now expired, and they expected him to return in a few weeks, when the old man hoped, as he expressed it in his letter, to join their hands, and see them happy.

* The philosopher was a resident in Flanders, and a skeptic. This reproof of his infidelity is inimitably delicate. In short, this whole story is a beautiful satire on deism, bigotry, and metaphysical theology; while it paints unaffected virtue, benevolence and piety, in the most engaging colors.

46. Our philosopher felt himself interested in this event; but he was not, perhaps, altogether so happy in the tidings of Mademoiselle La Roche's marriage, as her father supposed him. Not that he was ever a lover of the lady; but he thought her one of the most amiable women he had seen; and there was something in the idea of her being another's forever, that struck him, he knew not why, like a disappointment.

47. After some little speculation on the matter, however, he could look on it as a thing fitting, if not quite agreeable; and determined on his visit, to see his old friend and his daughter happy.

48. On the last day of his journey, different accidents had retarded his progress; he was benighted before he reached the quarter in which La Roche resided. His guide, however, was well acquainted with the road, and he found himself in view of the lake which I have before described in the neighborhood of La Roche's dwelling.

49. A light gleamed on the water, that seemed to proceed from the house: it moved slowly along, as he proceeded by the side of the lake, and at last he saw it glimmering through the trees, and stop at some distance from the place where he then was.

50. He supposed it some piece of bridal merriment, and pushed on his horse, that he might be a spectator of the scene; but he was a good deal shocked, on approaching the spot, to find it to be the torch of a person clothed in the dress of an attendant on a funeral, and accompanied by several others, who, like him, seemed to have been employed in the rights of sepulture.

51. On the philosopher's making the inquiry who was the person they had been burying, one of them, with an accent more mournful than is common to their profession, answered, "then you know not Mademoiselle, sir! you never beheld a lovelier,"- "La Roche !" exclaimed he, in reply," alas, it was she indeed!" The appearance of grief and surprise which his countenance assumed, attracted the notice of the peasant with whom he talked.

52. He came up close to the philosopher," I perceive you are acquainted with Mademoiselle La Roche." Acquainted with her! Indeed I was! When, how, where did she die? Where is her father?" "She died, sir, of the heart-break, I believe; the young gentleman to whom she was soon to be married, was killed in a duel by a French officer, his intimate companion, and to whom, before their quarrel, he had often done the greatest favors.

53. "Her worthy father bears her death, as he has often told us a christian should. He is even so composed, as to be

now in his pulpit, ready to deliver a few exhortations to his parishioners, as is the custom with us on such occasions. Follow me, sir, and you shall hear him." He followed the man without answering.

54. The church was dimly lighted, except near the pulpit, where the venerable La Roche was seated. His people were now lifting up their voices to that Being whom their pastor had taught them ever to bless and revere. "La Roche sat, his figure bending gently forward, his eyes half closed, lifted up in silent devotion. A lamp placed near him threw a light strongly on his head, and marked the shadowy lines of his age across the paleness of his brow, thinly covered with gray hairs.

55. The music ceased,-La Roche sat for a moment, and nature wrung a few tears from him. His people were loud in their grief. The philosopher was not less affected than they. La Roche arose. "Father of mercies," said he, "forgive these tears; assist thy servant to lift up his soul to thee; to lift to thee the souls of thy people; my friends, it is good so to do; at all seasons it is good; but in the days of our distress, what a privilege it is! Well saith the sacred book, 'Trust in the Lord; at all times trust in the Lord.'

56. "When every other support fails us, when the fountains of worldly comfort are dried up, let us then seek those living waters which flow from the throne of God. It is only from a belief of the goodness and wisdom of a supreme being, that our calamities can be borne in a manner which becomes a man. 57. "Human wisdom is here of little use; for in proportion as it bestows comfort, it represses feeling, without which, we may cease to be hurt by calamity, but we shall also cease to enjoy happiness. I will not bid you be insensible, my friends! I cannot.

58. "I feel too much myself, and I am not ashamed of my feelings; but therefore may I the more willingly be heard: therefore have I prayed God to give me strength to speak to you; to direct you to him, not with empty words, but with these tears; not from speculation, but from experience; that while you see me suffer, you may know also my consolation. 59. "You behold the mourner of his only child, the last earthly stay and blessing of his declining years! Such a child too!

It becomes not me to speak of her virtues; yet it is but grateful to mention them, because they were exerted towards myself. Not many days ago, you saw her young, beautiful, virtuous, and happy: ye who are parents will judge of my affliction now. But I look towards him who struck me; I see the hand of a Father, amidst the chastenings of my God.

60. "Oh! could I make you feel what it is to pour out the heart, when it is pressed down with many sorrows; to pour it