minister once asked a shepherd in the Isle of Wight how he would explain that passage. "Well, sir," said the man, "when I am following the flock, sometimes a poor lamb will be so overcome with fatigue and pinched with the cold, that it will drop down on the road, and be ready to die; but I then take it up in my arms, and lay the lamb's chilly heart opposite to my warm heart, and so keep the life in it till the creature can again help itself. And I suppose," he added, "it is in some such way that the chief Shepherd of all gathers his lambs in his arms and carries them in his bosom." Yes, and let all the young lambs in the land (they will if they are wise) come quickly to enquire

"Where is the shadow of that rock
That from the sun defends thy flock?
Fain would I feed among thy sheep,
Among them rest, among them sleep."

"THERE ARE NO GRAVES THERE."

LATE in the afternoon of a beautiful summer day, I entered a quiet grave-yard, where slept one of my dearest friends. It occupied the brow of a hill, which, with many a knoll and graceful undulation, sloped to the green meadow, watered by a winding stream,

THERE ARE NO GRAVES THERE.

now catching at its repeated curves the rays of the setting sun. On the left was a pleasant wood, where the sturdy pine and the fruit-bearing beech concealed narrow paths to cool caves and mossy banks. White birch and the tremulous aspen, with the sweetscented willow, grew on the right, and, from beyond, rose the curling smoke from the cottage homes. A robin sang its song of love and praise, a sparrow passed me bearing food to its little progeny, and the chirp of the merry grasshopper mingled with the hum of hundreds of flitting insects.

But for this peace-breathing scene I had no greeting. The wild storm, thunder, and rain, and darkness had seemed far more welcome; and, yielding utterly to my grief, I threw myself upon the sod. I took no heed of time, but many minutes must have passed when a child approached me. She looked on me tenderly for an instant, and then said earnestly, looking upward, "There are no graves there."

There was something almost seraphic in the countenance of the child, a power not of earth in her quick and undoubting faith. My eye sought the blue depths toward which she pointed, my heart bounded toward the Infinite. All the representations of the gospel, adapted as they are to soothe and cheer, came to me so vivid, so truthful, so full of meaning, that they absorbed my whole soul. The abundant promises seemed to glow with the hues of that heaven from whence they came. I perceived the selfishness of my sorrow, and kneeling, I thanked God that he had transferred my loved one to himself.

Often since then have I looked upon the resting places of my kindred-often has there come over me a sense of utter and hopeless desolation-often has an agony like that of death turned to bitterness the continued blessings of my lot. Yet, when the first burst of grief has passed, I hear again the soul-cheering assurance, "There are no graves there."

PALACE OF HOLYROOD.

THIS ancient palace of the kings of Scotland occupies the summit of a high hill, close to the city of Edinburgh. Chambers has furnished the following sketch of its history and present condition :

"A palace was built here in connexion with the abbey founded by David I., and this old structure was considerably renovated by James V. The whole, however, was destroyed by Cromwell, excepting the north-west angle, or that portion fronting the spectator as he approaches from the Cannongate. All the rest is comparatively modern, having been built in the reign of Charles II., but in a way to harmonise with the older part then remaining. The architect on this occasion was Sir William Bruce, and the building was executed by Robert Mylne, whose tomb may be seen on the north side of the chapel. The design of the palace by Bruce seems to be much the same as that of Hampton Court. The edifice is of stone, and of a quadrangular figure, with an open

court in the centre, surrounded by piazzas, the whole is in a plain Grecian style of architecture.

Having been erected after the Scottish monarchis had removed to England, the palace generally cannot be said ever to have been a royal residence for more than short periods. Of the surviving portion of the older palace a different history can be told. James V. was the father of Mary, and when that unfortunate princess landed in Scotland, she was conducted to the palace which her father had erected. The house was of large dimensions, much larger than at present; but Mary selected for her private apartments those which occupied the north-western angle of the building, comprehended chiefly in two turrets. Fortunately, this was the part saved from the outrage of Cromwell's soldiers. Thus, by an accident, Mary's apartments are preserved; and what is still more remarkable, they are, at this day, pretty much in the condition she left them, although nearly three hundred years have since passed away.

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Ascending a stone staircase from the piazza of the court, under the guidance of an ever-ready attendant, we reach these rooms, so full of historical associations, and are naturally surprised to observe how simply the beautiful queen had been accommodated. In the first place, there is a vestibule, where the blood of Rizzio is still shown upon the floor; though, we allow, it requires a stretch of faith to detect its appearance. Next is her presence-chamber-a room of large dimensions, with a carved oak roof, embellished with cyphers of different kings, queens, and princes, in faded paint and gold. The walls are decked with a great variety of pictures and prints; and some old chairs and other furniture are preserved. Adjacent to this apartment, occupying the front of the tower is the bedchamber of Mary, in which her bed is shown, in a very decayed condition. The only other two

apartments are a small dressing-room and a cabinet, in which last she was sitting at supper when Rizzio was assailed by his assassins. Near the door which leads from the bedchamber into this apartment is shown a private staircase in the solid wall, communicating with a suite of rooms below, which perhaps were those occupied by Darnley, as it is known he conducted the conspirators by this passage into the presence of his wife. These two small rooms contain a few objects of interest, said to have belonged to the queen's toilet; also some tapestry, wrought by her own hand. Cold and deserted, and with all around having the appearance of age and decay, Mary's apartments cannot fail to inspire melancholy reflections; but to the reader of history, the view of the scene here disclosed will at the same time afford a new pleasure the satisfaction of seeing the actual spot where events took place which have for centuries been the theme of narratives and discussions.

Having seen Queen Mary's apartments, little else in the palace is worth looking at. In a long apartment, in which takes place the election of representative Scottish peers for the house of lords, are exhibited "portraits of a hundred and six Scottish monarchs." Being merely daubs with a fictitious likeness, they are treated with deserved contempt. The other apartments are fitted up principally in a modern style, and are in part occupied by the families of noblemen and others who have received permission to reside within the palace, of which the Duke of Hamilton is heritable keeper. As a place of royal residence the palace is now scarcely suitable. Its situation and want of a sunk story render it damp; while it is destitute of many desirable conveniences. When George IV. was in Scotland in 1822, he held courts in one of the apartments; but he resided at the palace of the Duke of Buccleuch at Dalkeith."