possess. But as there is no good without its attendant evil, so I have an elder sister, called Frenzy, for whom I have often been mistaken, who sometimes follows close on my steps, and to her I owe much of the obloquy which is attached to my name; though the puerile accusation which has been just brought against me turns on points which apply more exclusively to myself."

She ceased, and a dead pause ensued. The multitude seemed struck with the fascination of her utterance and gesture, and the sounds of her voice still seemed to vibrate on every ear. The attention of the assembly, however, was soon recalled to the accuser, and their indignation at his baseness rose to such a height as to threaten general tumult, when the Goddess of Wisdom arose, and, waving her hand for silence, beckoned the prisoner to her, placed her on her right hand, and with a sweet smile, acknowledged her for her old companion and friend. She then turned to the accuser, with a frown of severity so terrible, that I involuntarily started with terror from my poor misguided friend, and with the violence of the start I awoke, and, instead of the throne of the Goddess of Wisdom, and the vast assembly of people, beheld the first rays of the morning peeping over the eastern cloud; and, instead of the loud murmurs of the incensed multitude, heard nothing but the soft gurgling of the river at my feet, and the rustling wing of the skylark, who was now beginning his first matin song.

KIRKE WHITE.

ROSINE.

"WHY are you so grave, my love?" said Madame St. Alme.-"Rosine is the cause," answered her husband.-"How have you displeased your father, Rosine?" Rosine did not speak, but she held down her head, and blushed deeply. "She has not displeased me," said her father; "she has made me feel happy in the possession of such a daughter; but she has grieved me too, for she wishes to leave us, and accompany M. du Mercie to England, that she may become a governess there."-" Come to me, my own best child," said Madame St. Alme; "how can I part with you?" -Rosine flung herself on her mother's bosom. "How can we all part with you?" she added, as the rest of the children pressed round their mother and sister. Rosine looked up into her mother's face, and said, "I am the eldest, dearest mother, and there are so many of these dear brothers and sisters-so many to increase the expenses of my father: you have both educated me with such care, that I think I could teach; and you know I have been accustomed to do so at home. If you can trust me," she said doubtingly, "so far from you, perhaps, I may be able to contribute to the support of some of these dear children."

M. St. Alme was pastor of the village of Rossiniere, which is situated deep in the recesses of the mountains to the east of Lausanne. Rossiniere is one of those spots where the primitive simplicity and hospitality of the Swiss have remained still uncorrupted; the inhabitants still

welcome with delight the stranger to their cheerful hearths, and decidedly refuse to be paid for the accommodation they afford. The parsonage of Rossiniere had, for some centuries, belonged to the St. Alme family, who had long held nearly the first place in the heart of almost every inhabitant of the village: the pastor had, from time immemorial, been looked up to as their friend, and had been their consoler under all the afflictions of his grateful villagers. Strangers might have talked of the ancient family of St. Alme; but those who knew them talked only of their benevolence and piety.

The time drew near for Rosine's departure, and poor Rosine thought the time flew very swiftly during the last week of her stay, another temptation nearly shook her resolution. She had felt a slight preference (to which she never allowed herself to give way) for her cousin, a young officer in the Prussian service, who had lately been residing with his mother at Rossiniere. When her intention to leave Switzerland was declared, he discovered that he was deeply attached to her, and he was unable to conceal his affection. Adrien had no fortune, and could offer her no inducement to remain; but as he parted from her, he could not resist declaring his sentiments: Rosine promised she would not forget him, and her manner proved that she could not.

The dreaded parting was over: without the power to weep, Rosine gazed at her family till she could see them no longer; she sat, lost in agonizing thought, till at last the one chord of

her heart was touched, and a gushing flood of tears relieved her.

As they passed a wood of beech trees, at a small distance from Rossiniere, Adrien sprang forward, waved his hand to her, and vanished instantly among the trees; he had waited there to see Rosine for the last time: her sad smile was never forgotten by him.

Rosine could not be insensible to the kindness of M. du Mercie, who was the very person best calculated to sooth her: he had also left Switzerland when young, and had been, during the chief part of his life, the minister of a Protestant church, in London; he was now leaving his country, he had reason to believe for the last time; for he was very old, and had taken leave, for the last time, of all his relations; he came over from England for that purpose, and was returning to die there.

During their journey, Rosine saw much to gratify her curiosity, but little to astonish her, till she was standing on the deck of the vessel which conveyed her to England. "This," said she to her venerable companion" this wonderful ocean can be compared to our mountains. Here is one

of the Creator's works unpolluted; these vast waters roll on as they did when God first divided them man is ever taught his own insignificance here."- Yes, Rosine," said the old clergyman, "and the dignity-the great value of his soul, is ever declared to him here; for this mighty ocean will pass away into nothing, while the invisible soul must live for ever. God seems to have ordained that some of the creations of his hand

shall be, as it were, for a season, images of his power: the ocean, the loftiest mountains may be compared to death-invincible death; neither are to be subdued by man; but they will be all finally swallowed up, while the soul can never die. Oh! if persons, who trifle with their souls, would remember, that the invisible spirit, which they neglect, as of no value, is superior to every visible object; that the heavens and the earth must be consumed, but that there is a day of judgment--no day of annihilation-for the soul!"

M. du Mercie had written to inquire for some situation which might suit Rosine; and, on her arrival, she proceeded immediately to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Stanley, who resided on their own estate, near the western coast of Sussex. They were delighted with her gentleness and simplicity, and even with the melancholy which would at times betray itself, notwithstanding all her efforts to become cheerful. She was happy, for she recollected a conversation which had passed between herself and M. du Mercie: he told her, that when he first left his own country he was very wretched; that he gave way to his feelings, and, after remaining a short time in England, returned to Switzerland; "but," he added, "I was unhappy there, for my conscience continually reminded me that I was neglecting my duty, and refusing opportunities of being useful to my family; this remembrance embittered every pleasure: I went again to England, and, in all the sadness I have since felt, the delightful assurance that I was doing my duty has consoled me.'

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