WORSE THAN BEFORE.

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rang with the cry, "Prepare to meet thy God!" Every new day brought rumours more startling than those of its predecessor respecting the ravages and proximity of the mysterious foe. Had a besieging army, of irresistible power and without mercy, been at hand, the effect could not have been more alarming. Men looked at each other when they met, but smiled not. All were serious. Intemperance was greatly checked. The public-houses were nearly deserted, except by the utterly abandoned and hardened, who had lost fear because they had no hope; and to give a direction to this general feeling, there was a day of fasting and humiliation observed by all in the various places of worship in the town and neighbourhood. Earnestvery earnest―were the prayers presented to God that day, that we might all be saved from the pestilence.

We were saved! The fatal disease came within twenty miles of us, and carried away many; but it came no nearer. There was not a single known case in the whole district. But mark the sequel! Scarcely had the authentic intelligence reached us that Asiatic cholera was leaving our land, when the people seemed to forget their merciful exemption from the dire affliction, which had gorged so many burial grounds throughout England and Scotland. An unreasoning joy succeeded the gloom I have described. The thoughtless became more giddy than before. The sceptical smiled at the "false alarm." The drunkard returned to his cups with increased thirst. And, worse than all, not a few professors of religion seemed to fall into the error of believing more firmly in the power of prayer, than in the mercy of Him who hears prayer. That the really religious were permanently benefited, and that piety received an accession to its power, is also true; but the state of the town generally was decidedly worse than before. Six months afterwards, we were all surprised by an unusual mortality among the people. "Slight

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FEARFUL EPIDEMIC.

colds," as they seemed at first, terminated in ulcerated throats, inflammation of the chest, and death! Three days were generally the longest period between the attack and its fatal issue. Few that were seized recovered. No class, or rank, escaped. The holy and the unclean alike fell before the messenger of death. Nothing like it had been known in the place before. Every day witnessed funeral processions in the street. Shops were closed, business stood still, and fear sat on every face. The question every morning, for nearly three months, was simply-" Who has died?" Among my nearest friends, I may mention for the sake of illustration, that the young wife of my brother-before they had been married ten months-and their infant were laid in the same grave; that at the very hour, and on the same day when she departed, the excellent mother of the young lady, who has since become my own beloved wife, breathed her last; that an aunt of mine suddenly died; that two or three esteemed acquaintances fell in one week; and that there was scarcely a street in which the blinds of the windows were not down, in token of what had taken place inside. Some time before this, we had taken our aged parents to the town, and we all lived under the same roof. They were not affected by the epidemic; but it laid hold on me, and for the period of no less than three months I suffered from it. A constant inflammation of the throat, with periodical prostration— prostration so complete, that my friends frequently thought I had breathed my last-characterised my illness. I remember particularly one occasion. I was lying on my back utterly helpless. I was scarcely conscious of breathing. Several of my dear young friends, to whom I have so repeatedly referred, had come to see me for the last time-as all thought, and as I thought. They first prayed in a low voice, and then sat around the bed, watching for the last scene.

My poor mother sat, with her head resting on her hands, weeping; my father was at her side, his few grey hairs surrounding his head like a crown of honour won in the battle of life. My sense of hearing was marvellously acute. I could not speak-could not lift a finger-yet I knew all that was said, and heard most distinctly the faintest whisper. I heard the sigh of my father, and the tears dropping from my mother's face. But I felt indescribably happy. Can this be dying? I thought. What perfect peace! I cannot compare it to any known experience. Shall I say it was like floating on the surface of a crystal stream, whose banks were fragrant with all the odours of a fertile summer? I heard the most soothing and enchanting music. Everything was calm as calmness itself. I had no pain, no anxiety, no wish-except it was that I should continue in that state of mental felicity for ever. It was not a swoon-for I knew all that was transpiring; and it was not a dream-for when any of my friends gently looked on my face, I returned the look with a faint smile of recognition. This exquisite sensation lasted about three hours, as nearly as I can recollect, when it gradually passed away, with the gradual return of a little physical strength. From that day I recovered slowly. It was in the month of February; and about the middle of June following, I left my native town, with a few shillings and many "letters of introduction" in my pocket, "with all the world before me where to choose, and Providence my Guide."

Kirke White.

HITHER shall I bend my steps To London? It is likely to prove a great whirlpool of excitement, anxiety, trouble, and doubt; a wilderness of strange strange faces, strange scenes, and and strange heart-wringings; a great desert, in which I shall be lost-perhaps ruined; for, by all accounts, the stranger without a name, without friends, and especially without funds, is, in the Great Metropolis, like a stray leaf in autumn, driven hither and thither, no one knowing what he is, or what becomes of him. Besides, London is too far off, and,

even if I had introductions to that huge city, it is beyond my power to travel to it. Shall I think of Liverpool? It is a prosperous town. It is full of enterprising merchants. There must be constant changes going on. Possibly I may hear of an opening in some

mercantile house, where a clerk is required. But no; Liverpool is all very well for those who are wedded to pounds, shillings, and pence. I want to go to some seat of learning. Oxford, Cambridge, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Edinburgh; these are all before me. Simpleton! what are you dreaming about? Twenty-five shillings is the entire amount of your wealth; the sum of your possessions! Ah! true; I forgot that! Well, never mind. I have long wished to see Scotland-the land of intellect, freedom, and daring; the land of mountain and flood; of imperishable names and undying moral heroism. I wish to breathe its bracing atmosphere; to climb its rugged hills; to catch its thrilling spirit of patriotism, and to sit at the feet of its renowned teachers. To modern Athens I will go in the first instance, and trust to God for the result."

Such was the substance of my soliloquy when I left the home of my feeble childhood to see the great busy world, resolved to seek the means of existence in some other part of the kingdom. I could have remained in my native town, had mere existence been the limit of my desire; but I wished for something beyond that. I felt that life was a serious thing, and I cherished the hope that there was something before me to be accomplished-something, somewhere in the wide world, to be done by me. Of wealth I thought not; but the idea of a life of dependence, when one has the power of doing something for the benefit of others, was intolerable. I was convinced that I should find my work, whatever it might be, elsewhere; and, with this conviction, I bade farewell to my aged parents, believing that I should never see them again in life.

It was a painful separation. That dear mother, who had, at the expense of her health, and almost of her life, watched through sad years over my feeble infancy; and that noble-minded father, whose cheerful and intelligent piety had breasted many a storm, and set me