that seems to have a voice from home. It tells of spring. How beautiful was the spring at Glanheathyn! How joyous every living creature! How fresh and young all nature! How happily my childhood's spring passed away amongst the mountains of my native land. Less magnificent, but oh ten thousand times more dear, than the Alps or Appenines. These dreadful Appenines, that close me in on every side, and frown, in gloomy grandeur, upon their forlorn prisoner. Give me patience and resignation, oh my God."

"Why did the yearnings of restless ambition, and the desire to excel others, take me from my quiet home, by the glorious sea? Why could I not have lived and died there as my beloved grandfather did? Then I might have lived and died with Gwenthlean, and the friends I love. Dreams! idle dreams! from which there must be an awaking. We live a life of

self-deception, till something dreadful arouses us to consciousness. Did not my heart, whose quiet promptings I resisted, tell me that the wisdom of the wise was but foolishness, and that humility, alone, was acceptable before God. Not in theological disputations-not in learned difficulties, not in the praise of men, lies the pastor's duty; but in a lowly walk with God; a conduct irreproachable before men; a tender anxiety to save sinners; a constant endeavour to preach the gospel in purity; a close, unprejudiced study of the bible, apart from tradition; and earnest prayer. Why was I blinded to this, before the rod of the Almighty brought me low?"

My brain has been sadly wandering today. Fever is a terrible leveller. It brings the strong man to the grave, and the mighty intellect to nothing. Where are the powers in which in which my soul once gloried! Where are the giant limbs of the giant mind! Memory, imagination, reason,

VOL. III.

E

Could

where are they! Dim and indistinct as the fitful, shadowy forms of a disturbed dream. Yet I have been happy, for I have fancied myself at home. I saw Gwenthlean and her mother and sister. They were kind, and gentle, and beautiful as ever. But I was unhappy too; for I thought Gwenthlean was false. I believed she had forsaken me for another. it be? May she be happy if she love him. They must all suppose me dead, and may be gradually forgetting me-at least remembering me as a departed friend for whom it is useless to mourn. Oh ! how the affections overpower every other attribute of man, in times of suffering and solitude."

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Margarita tells me that the captain is said to be out of danger. Thank God! not only on my own account but his. The blood of a fellow-creature lies not at my

door, and he is spared for repentance. The Bandits still scowl heavily upon me, and my doom is uncertain. I could almost pray them to shorten my life of misery, but I supplicate patience to await God's appointed time. How truly said Menander --Life to a wretched man is long; but to him that is happy, very short.' I seem to have lived longer in these months of captivity, than in all the years of my previous life."

"One of the bandits has left his watch behind him. Its unvarying, tick, tick, tick, tick, used to remind me of the flight of time, and to warn me to improve it, How often was the warning given in vain! Now it goes to my heart, like a sharp sword, and tells me that Time is going on-onlike a mighty river that never flows back to its source. The past, from my natal hour to this wretched moment, is not to

be recalled. Oh! how infinitely precious would every moment have appeared, had I known what was to befal me. That monotonous sound goes on; never ceasing from day to day; like my sad captivity."

"As fire and heat are inseparable, so are the hearts of faithful friends," said Aristotle-yes, I believe it was Aristotle. Oh, my beloved, absent friends, are not our hearts as inseparable as fire and heat? Could you see how mine burns for you all: could you know how it prays for you allhow it dwells upon the recollection of the hours spent with you, you would shed one more tear to my memory, and learn how well I have loved you."

"Hoarsely, wildly, fearfully, rages the