66 Pardon, my dear friend," continued Mrs. Gracelove," the analogy I thus draw between your 'future time,' and the convenient season' of Felix. But while I thus take the liberty of pointing to the resemblance in words, I fervently trust it may never become a resemblance in deeds, but that the final issue may be diametrically the reverse of that of the Roman governor. Felix, indeed, trembled on hearing the inspired words of the holy man of God, and if he repented not of his sins before he died, he is trembling still. 66 Permit me, my dear Mrs. Stately to repeat to you that beautiful and expressive hymn of Doddridge, so appropriate to this subject; whose warning voice is here piously raised against that fatal procrastination which so often involves such awful results. "To-morrow, Lord, is thine, The present moment flies, Since on this winged hour Waken, by thine Almighty power, The aged and the young. One thing demands our care, Lest, slighted once, the season fair Should never be renew'd. "I can pardon anything," replied her visitor, "that is urged in the kindly spirit of charity, and with the benevolent motives which prompt your remarks, however widely we may differ in our sentiments. But it is now growing late," said the halfconverted lady of fashion, rising from her seat, 66 and I must take my leave for the present. After the conversation we have had, and which, though opposed to each other, has been much more interesting than I could have possibly expected, I will not say one word more about your coming to my party. But I shall still hope, my dear Mrs. Gracelove," she said smiling, as she extended her hand, "to see you at the Hall in a quiet social way, if not at a naughty fashionable dance." Mrs. Gracelove assured her that such intercourse would be much more agreeable, both to herself and to her husband, than any other arrangement whatever, and of which they should hope to avail themselves. The two ladies having exchanged mutual courtesies on taking leave, the conversation ended; and Mrs. Stately, stepping into her carriage, returned to the Hall. CHAPTER VI. THE midsummer holidays had now arrived, and the two sons of Mr. and Mrs. Gracelove, with buoyant hearts and rejoicing spirits, had returned to their lovely home on the romantic shores of Derwent, or, as it is not unfrequently called, Keswick Lake. Happy days! ere the cares, and sorrows, and anxieties of life, have touched the youthful bosom and robbed it of its freshness! Cherished hours of schoolboy happiness! when, the half-year's task being ended, the busy fancy revels in the delights of home and innocent pleasure ;-luxuriates in the bright visions of the future, ere hope becomes blighted by the chilling realities of life, and its cheering sunshine shadowed over by the clouds and tempests of this chequered world! "O where shall rest be found, Rest for the weary soul? 'Twere vain the ocean-depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole. The world can never give The bliss for which we sigh; 'Tis not the whole of life-to live, Beyond this vale of tears, Unmeasured by the flight of years; And all that life is love: There is a death whose pang Lord God of truth and grace, Teach us that death to shun, Lest we be banish'd from thy face, Here would we end our quest; Alone are found in Thee, The life of perfect love,-the rest Of immortality." Montgomery. Nor Pure and exhilarating were the feelings with which Edmund and Jasper hailed the festive season. were their anxious and indulgent parents less gratified to see their children happy around them, nor less inclined to join in their recreations, and administer to their amusements, in all the fondness of parental affection. Parties of pleasure were planned for sailing on the lake, and visiting the numerous objects of curiosity and interest with which the neighbouring scenes abounded. Different days were appropriated, in perspective, to as many varied excur sions; to rambles around the banks of their own beautiful lake, as well as to those in the vicinity, which filled up the bright panorama of this enchanting district. Mountains were to be ascended, valleys to be explored, waterfalls admired, lead-mines examined; rocks, caves, torrents, with all the intricacies and mazes of a mountain wilderness, were to be visited in successive order, On the third morning after the arrival of the two young gentlemen at dulce domum, the boat belonging to the family was ordered to be in readiness, and two expert rowers, selected from the farming establishment of Mr. Gracelove, were called from their rural occupations in the field, to ply the oar instead of guiding the plough; an exchange of labour which they always hailed with evident satisfaction. After despatching an early breakfast, the joyous party, consisting of papa and mamma, Edmund, Jasper, Laura, and Maria, crossed the lawn to the water's edge, and, with high anticipations of the coming pleasure, stepped at once into the boat. Mr. Gracelove having taken his seat at the helm, steered her course direct to the Vicar's, or Derwent Isle, one of the four beautiful islands that adorn and diversify the surface of this queen of the northern lakes. Nothing could surpass the fineness of the day. The sun shone forth from a clear bright sky, chequered only by a few light fleecy clouds which lent an additional charm to the landscape, as every observant traveller through a mountainous region must have frequently remarked. The broad masses of shade that are occasionally thrown on the sides of the mountains, contrasting and mingling with the sunshine that rests upon them; the singular and almost mysterious forms they sometimes assume, while creeping along the rugged acclivities, as if they were disembodied beings of another world, are objects of interesting contemplation to the lovers of nature. If, at the same time, the wind should be high, the rapidity with which these shadowy reflections sweep across the barren heights, and the sud |
