plans for our enjoyment, he asked Mr. and Mrs. Barrett to take charge of us in a trip to the west of England and Wales.

My only sister and eldest brother, both younger than myself, were to accompany us; and you may suppose that at seventeen I was little loth to accede to such a plan, and began the preparations for our journey with the utmost zeal.

I remember a good old man who had taken a deep interest in me from childhood, and who, knowing the world and my worldly companions, ah, and my heart too, better than I knew it myself, spoke seriously to me just before my departure, on the possibility of my being placed in circumstances of temptation hitherto quite novel to me. My mother having carefully guarded us from the many snares laid for youth, "I felt quite sure," I said, "that I should never be tempted to go any where, or to enter into anything of which she would have disapproved;" and my proud heart was almost angry at the parting whisper, "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall."

It was a memorable journey. We set out in an open carriage (there were few railways in those days) from our house in one of the north Midland counties, on a bright sunshiny morning in July, without a fear and with scarce a regret, except now and then that caused by the remembrance of her who was wont to take us yearly on these our little pleasure tours. But we were young, full of hope, health and joy, and the exhilaration of travelling and change soon chased away all that was sad in recollection.

• We arrived in London late on the first evening of our journey. It was agreed that one week was to be spent in town before going further south; and for the first few days we were so occupied with visits to friends, picture galleries, dioramas, museums, and all the lions of the day, that I had little time to consider how far my friend's warning might be needful.

Four days of the week had expired, and all had gone on harmoniously, when, on the morning of the fifth, Mr. Barrett, whose business it was at breakfast time, to lay before us the programme of the day's pleasure, looked rather comically at me as he said:"Miss West, there is a little diversion in store for you to night, which I have not mentioned before, fearing you might start an objection or two, in spite of the great desire which I know you will have to enter into the scheme."

'I looked inquiringly, but my heart beat fast, for I feared, as it really was, nothing less than a proposal to visit the theatre.

"The play was unexceptionable," so said the master of the ceremonies; the house the most respectable; the manager the most moral, gentlemanly, refined man in London, in short;" but, as I do not want to enlist your opinion in favour of the stage, I will not repeat all he said. I did not at once and courageously express my decided. objection to theatricals.

If I had done so, it is very likely that, as well-bred, kind-hearted, and sensible persons, they would not have persisted in leading us there; but I professed my perfect indifference to such things; the little

pleasure it would be; my desire to go and see an old school-fellow living at Kensington; and, indeed, every excuse that I could muster I did, but all to no effect. Seeing me irresolute, they at once armed themselves to overcome me. What, indeed, could they have thought of the worth of my principles when they saw that I had not confidence enough in them myself to bring them to the light? More of our conversation I will not recall-they conquered, and with a heavy heart I was prepared in the evening to dress for the theatre, when it struck me that Mary, my quiet and gentle sister, had expressed no opinion on the subject. We had had so little time together during the day, which, as usual, was consumed in lionizing, that I had hitherto had no opportunity of consulting her about it, and did not doubt that she would accompany us. I was greatly surprised, therefore, on entering our apartment, to see Mary quietly writing, and manifesting no excitement or preparation whatever.

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Mary," said I, are you not going to get ready?"
I am not going out, dear."

""Not going!"

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'No, I could not. I do not think such things right, and I told Mrs. Barrett so, alone."

How I blushed; how my heart condemned me! Here was my sister, who had never made any profession of religion-my timid, retiring sister-surpassing me in an act of simple moral courage.

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'But, Mary, was not Mrs. Barrett very angry?" I asked.

"At first they both seemed vexed, but after a few remarks, not very hard to bear, Mrs. Barrett said that if I thought it wrong to go, I was quite right to stop away. She thought my ideas very mistaken, and very preposterous in a young person, but that, if I had laid down a rule of conduct which I believed correct, I was only consistent to adhere to it."

'It was too late, I thought, for me to retract, and feeling as if my mother's eye were sadly resting on me, and knowing that the eye of Him who is in every place followed me, I went to the brilliantlylighted theatre with a burdened conscience and a mortified spirit.

New, Louisa, bear this in mind. There is nothing so contemptible in the eyes of the worldly as the inconsistencies and half-heartedness of professing Christians. Believe me, they can appreciate a steady adherence to principles in the truth and soundness of which they may not believe. But little could the Barretts respect motives such as mine! I have one more sad reflection to make on that visit to the theatre. My young brother, who, alas! went far astray in the paths of pleasure, often said, in after life, that he dated his taste for theatrical amusements from that memorable night; when, in all probability, had his elder sister acted with firmness and decision, he would have followed her example, and have been prevented, thus early in youth, from forming the habit which grew upon him with increasing strength, and led to much and lasting evil. Remember, too, that no one can live to himself. Our conduct and example may affect another

when we little expect it. Our own sin may involve the misery, if not ruin, of more souls than one.

I felt relieved and joyful when, early in the following week, we left London and its pleasures far behind us. Now, at least, thought I, we shall not be likely to clash in sentiment. We may all enjoy the beauties of nature without fear of disagreement.

If he that trusteth his own heart be a fool, so is he who trusts to change of circumstances for safety. There is neither strength nor safety for man but in dependence on God.

'One Saturday evening, we were overtaken by a violent storm of rain and wind, accompanied by thunder; and as our carriage was not capable of protecting us all from the wet, we resolved to remain at a little roadside inn, about ten miles from the beautiful neighbourhood of Linton, instead of proceeding the same night, and passing the Sunday at that place, according to our original plan. Certainly, the accommodations at the inn were not first-rate our beds were hard, our provisions coarse-but I was much concerned to hear Mr. Barrett, at breakfast, on the Sunday morning, declare his intention of pushing on as fast as possible, and leaving this stupid place as soon as ever horses could be procured. Now I made a very plausible excuse to myself in answer to the appeals of my conscience on this matter. “I have nothing to do with the management of the journey. The sin, as it seemed to me, of ordering horses and breaking the rest of the Sabbath, will not be on my head, but on those who plan it. If they go, I cannot be left behind." Indeed, so much had my anxiety for the approval of the Barretts grown on me during our intercourse, that I was less and less inclined to controvert their opinion; more often than ever asking that dangerous question, "What will they think of

me?"

Horses were ordered, and we set out. A young and, to my mind, a very fascinating youth, about my own age, who lived at Birmingham as well as ourselves, and who was a friend of the Barretts, had joined our party at Exeter, and anxiety to be thought well of and admired by him, added in some degree, I think, to my natural want of decision of character."

Oh! that miserable day! Every stroke of the village bells fell on my heart and my conscience-every neatly-dressed peasant, leading happy troops of children to the house of God, seemed to look reproach. fully on me; and as we passed away from the dwellings of man, there seemed a voice in the Sabbath stillness of the air, which said, "The eyes of the Lord are in every place."

'Arrived at Linton, a party was immediately formed to go to the rocks. Mary declined, and said that it was her intention to go to church in the afternoon. They overruled this objection, however, by informing her there was no service. Still, but for me, I have no doubt she would have remained firm. I believe I should not, in this instance, have yielded, but for the presence of the afore-mentioned youth. I had, indeed, declared that I never did go excursions of pleasure on Sunday;

that I thought it wrong; and so forth; when the youth, with an eloquence and zeal worthy a better cause, expressed his astonishment that one so clever, so gifted, and so enthusiastic an admirer of the works of God should suppose there was any sin in viewing them, as they might do this day, in the greatest perfection and beauty. I wavered, consented, and, finally, drew my sister with me. We set out, a gay party outwardly, but with more than one heavy upbraiding heart, to the far-famed " Valley of Rocks." I scarcely know how to tell you the sequel. We were soon gaily conversing, and, with the usual levity of youth, had forgotten all the past unpleasantness in present enjoyment, when our merriment received a check we had little expected.

I can now see that fine, healthy youth, as he looked on the morning of that memorable Sabbath-day. I can recall him as he stood on an eminence, waving his hat to us, for he had run a little in advance to see, as he said, whether a path, which looked unusually tempting, were at all practicable for ladies. His image is far more engraven on my mind than that of the romantic scenery with which we were surrounded: his merry voice, as it called us gaily to follow him, still sounds in my ears, yet not so clearly as the accents which, a moment after, woke up the slumbering echoes of the majestic rocks, and rang through the summer's air. It was a cry of mortal agony-of unutterable terror. He had missed his footing, and, unused to the steep and slippery path, in approaching too near the edge of a projecting rock, had fallen, and was killed on the spot! Thus ended our broken Sabbath, Louisa; and but little comment is needed. If we will not acknowledge God in all our ways, how can we expect him to direct our paths? and although an hour or two before I had been so ready to throw the responsibility of our Sunday travelling on my friends, conscience loudly told me that I, who knew my Lord's will, and did it not, had the greater condemnation-that a steady, respectful, remonstrance in the first instance, and a decided negative in the second, might have altered the plans of the whole party, and might have saved the life of a human being. He was the only son of his mother, and she a widow. For many years the sight of that lonely, stricken one, as she sat in my view, bowed in grief, at the house of God, in our native town, was a repetition of that important truth which I long to impress on you, dear children, that the "fear of man bringeth a snare," and that "whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe." "

Notices of Books.

Life of Roger Williams, the earliest Legislator and true Champion for a full and absolute Liberty of Conscience. By Romeo Elton, D.D., M.R.P.S. London: A. Cockshaw. Pp. 174.

NEARLY two hundred years have rolled away since Roger Williams died, and this is the first extended life' of him that has appeared in England;-such value have Dissenters attached to the memory of the first man who ever understood their principles, and who devoted a life, sacrificing wealth and honour, and every material consideration, to their advancement and defence. With bitter truth has it been said, 'Republicans show no gratitude;' and well might we add, Dissenters show none. The greatest champions of our selfishly-cherished principles live and die, and their names might perish from the earth, for aught we will do to preserve the fragrance of their renown. To them we owe what we possess of those liberties and rights of which we prate at festivals and dinners, or before applauding crowds on state occasions, when we deck free thoughts in court dress, and hold them up for short-lived admiration; and that is all we do. A Mitford is left to write a life of Milton; Cromwell's reputation is suffered to rot, till a Carlyle rescues it from almost universal detestation; not a Dissenting publisher would take the risk of Milton's works; the Statesmen of the Commonwealth' are similarly blackballed by the Dissenting houses;' and only through some committee' assuming the responsibility, can we get the life or works of Wycliffe, Robinson, or Williams. If we cherish our principles with a firm faith, we, at any rate, take care that they shall not cost us much. Starved when living, and forgotten when dead,' might be the epitaph of the worthiest of our forefathers. More is known now of 'Martin Chuzzlewit' than of John Pym, or even of the Mysteries of Udolpho' than of the progress of Protestant Nonconformity; and many a man could tell you all about Rob Roy,' who never heard the name of Roger Williams. So do we prize patriotism, and so do we pay (!) for it.

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We owe it to Dr. Elton's industry, and love of antiquarian lore, that we now first know of the birth-place and parentage of Williams. He was born in the year 1606, at Maestroiddyn, an obscure village in Carmarthenshire, South Wales. In addition,' says Dr. Elton, 'to other documentary evidence, now in the possession of the author, the following record is copied from the archives of the University of Oxford, "Rodericus Williams filius Gulielmi Williams de Conevelagio. Pleb. an. nat. 18. Entered at Jesus College, April 20, 1624."' Previous, however, to his being entered at Oxford, he studied at Sutton Hospital, now the Charter House-for three years, under the auspicious and bountiful patronage of Sir Edward Coke. When he left the university we do not know, nor what became of him immediately afterwards; but the probabilities are, that he undertook a charge in Lincolnshire, which he kept as long as his conscience and the fiery persecutions of Laud would allow. This could not have been very long, however, for in less than seven years from the date of his commencing his studies, we find him taking ship with his wife, from Bristol, in a trading vessel, bound to Boston.

It is not our intention to follow Williams in his subsequent glorious and honourable career. The bitter and unrelenting persecution he endured from