called out. This added very much to the picturesque effect of the whole thing. The ringing hoofs of the cavalry horses and the clank of their accoutrements, at that deep midnight hour; the arms of the troopers now gleaming in the cold pale moonshine, and now flashing brightly in the vivid stream of light from the illuminated spots. Large bonfires were burning at the head of every street, and the groups gathered round these, their eager and excited faces brought out into high relief by the strong red glare,-the flames mounting fiercely upwards, and now and again descending upon the crowd in a shower of brilliant sparks-all combined to form a striking and most picturesque scene.

In returning home, we had to pass up a long street of dwelling houses. They were illuminated by candles fixed in each window-pane, and so strong was the light from these, that every object within the rooms was distinctly visible even to the farthest corner. The succession of domestic interiors, and the curious contrasts between some of them, were most interesting,-a regular gallery of moving, living pictures. The first, I remember, was a dingy looking parlour where a solitary old lady sat buried in the ample pillows of an easy chair before the fire. She was very much wrapped up, and looked infirm and paralyzed, with her head sunk on her chest. There were no symptoms of any kind of occupation, books, work, or knitting about; and the tall candles on the bare mahogany table had long, unsnuffed wicks.

In the next house to this, a cheerful family party were gathered round the tea-table, on which the bubbling and loud-hissing urn' sent up its 'steamy

column; and farther on was a school. Crowds of eager, happy young faces were pressing round the windows, gazing out with delight and curiosity at the brilliant illuminations. This was a most animated little picture, and in perpetual movement. At the end of the room stood a harp and a piano-forte, and beyond them, in the corner, with her face to the wall, was a poor little girl, apparently in grievous disgrace and sad woe, prevented from sharing with her merry companions in the pleasures of the evening. How I longed to intercede for her!

The next room-it is before me now; and what a contrast to the last! It had been converted into a sort of office or counting-house; and the only articles of furniture therein contained were a large drearylooking wooden desk, and two high stools without backs, placed one at each side of it. The desk was covered with papers and parchments, and on the stools sat two pale, worn-out looking clerks, apparently overwhelmed with care and business. One of them, with his shoulders up to his ears, and his back bowed like a semi-circle, was writing away most diligently. The other, a half-starved, forlorn figure, his elbows resting on the wooden desk, his knees drawn up to his chin, the tails of his thread-bare coat depending from the high, back-less stool, and a pen behind his ear, was poring over what seemed, from his puzzled looks and contracted brows, to be some complicated account. The room, with its cold, grey, comfortless walls, and bare unadorned appearance, was quite in keeping with the occupants; and altogether there was something in the whole group that made us pause for a moment opposite. The lower rooms of the next two or three houses, I remember, were all

dark and boarded up, belonging probably to some political opponents of the returned candidate, who had thus secured their windows against the stones and missiles of the mob. Then came a small house, within which was a quiet scene of home-born happiness, fireside enjoyments:' a cheerful blaze, books, musical instruments, a work-table. A lady, young and pretty, was seated at the latter, and beside her on the sofa a young man, her husband perhaps, with a volume in his hand, which he seemed to be reading aloud for her. In a handsomely fitted-up drawingroom, at the end of the street, I observed another pair, very different from this. The gentleman, with his coat buttoned up to the throat, hands buried in his pockets, head sunk down between his shoulders, and long outstretched legs, looked the very picture of ennui, or rather of dogged stupid resignation to his fate. Opposite him sat his unprepossessinglooking help-mate, whose fretful discontented countenance seemed to promise but little sunshine either to herself or her companion.

But I must pause in my sketches. These little scenes, though every-day and common-place, interested me at the time, owing perhaps to a peculiar fondness and turn for observing character, as well as to this rather unusual mode of indulging the propensity. Doubtless the various actors, in these and many more tableaux, had no idea how completely their movements were laid open to the observation of the passers by ; for, without trying it, no one can imagine the effect of even a single candle at night, in making objects within a room visible outside. To return to where I set out: If we could all see into each other's situations, as on an illumination night, we should begin to

discover that every class and circumstance has its joys and sorrows, its comforts and discomforts. Doubtless the solitary old lady, who seemed to have outlived all that makes life desirable, might have envied the youthful limbs and bounding activity of her little neighbours in the school; not considering that the transitory sorrows of childhood are as poignant while they last, as those of riper years, and that the tear that flows down the rosy cheek of infancy, is not the less bitter because so soon followed by a smile. The poor toil-worn clerks again might have coveted the leisure-time, and lazy stretch before the fire, of the unoccupied gentleman last described; whereas he, in his turn, would probably consider the domestic evil he was burdened with as far more grievous than the most intricate account that ever puzzled the brains of a calculator.

Yes; in every situation of life there is a ruffled rose-leaf in the Syborite's couch, a vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite. And it is well it should be so. Had we all we wished for and desired, we should sit down satisfied in this world: were the jewel of earthly happiness within our reach, we should never seek after the pearl of great price. They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick; and thus were we not sometimes weary, heavy-laden, and disappointed, we should not go to Christ to find rest unto our souls. Rest! Ah that is a word that belongeth not to this earthly scene; the Christian dares not rest. We have a Master to serve, a work to do, a race to run, a battle to fight, talents to employ. We must watch and pray, and strive to enter in at the strait gate, and work out our salvation with fear and trembling, and that in the face of our adver

last all is over—

sary the devil, with powers and principalities arrayed against us. Yes, the Christian has need to keep his armour bright; he is surrounded by enemies; without are fightings, within are fears. But, blessed be God, there is a rest. And when at when to the weary pilgrim, after the burden and heat of the day, the time of departure is at hand-when he has fought a good fight and finished his course, and kept the faith, there is the crown! the crown of righteousness laid up, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give at that day to all that love his appearing. Then will be found that rest which remaineth unto the people of God. In their Father's house are many mansions !

M. F. D.

THE sum of all true religion and godliness is this, "Let Israel hope in the Lord:" that is, there is no other salvation, there is no other consolation, there is no other sure peace of conscience for any mortal, than the apprehending and embracing the promise of grace.-Martin Luther.