to my notice.  She expressed a trust that the Lord would overrule both the death of her sister and the personal acquaintance with me that resulted from it, to a present

and future good, as it respected herself and also her parents, with whom she statedly lived, and to whom she expected to return in a few days.

Finding that she was wanted in some household duty, I did not remain long with her, but left her with an assurance that I proposed to visit her parents very shortly.

“Sir,” said she, “I take it very kind that you have condescended to leave the company of the rich and converse with the poor.  I wish I could have said more to you respecting my own state of mind.  Perhaps I shall be better able another time.  When you next visit me, instead of finding me in these noble walls, you will see me in a poor cottage.  But I am happiest when there.  Once more, sir, I thank you for your past kindness to me and mine, and may God in many ways bless you for it.”

I quitted the house with no small degree of satisfaction, in consequence of the new acquaintance which I had formed.  I discovered traces of a cultivated as well as a spiritual mind.  I felt that religious intercourse with those of low estate may be rendered eminently useful to others, whose outward station and advantages are far above their own.

How often does it appear that “God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound

the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should glory in his presence” (1 Cor. i. 27-29).

It was not unfrequently my custom, when my mind was filled with any interesting subject for meditation, to seek some spot where the beauties of natural prospect might help to form pleasing and useful associations.  I therefore ascended gradually to the very summit of the hill adjoining the mansion where my visit had just been made.  Here was placed an elevated sea mark: it was in the form of a triangular pyramid, and built of stone.  I sat down on the ground near it, and looked at the surrounding prospect, which was distinguished for beauty and magnificence.  It was a lofty station, which commanded a complete circle of interesting objects to engage the spectator’s attention.

Southward the view was terminated by a long range of hills, at about six miles distance.  They met, to the westward, another chain of hills, of which the one whereon I sat formed a link; and the whole together nearly encompassed a rich and fruitful valley, filled with cornfields and pastures.  Through this vale winded a small river for many miles: much cattle were feeding

on its banks.  Here and there lesser eminences arose in the valley, some covered with wood, others with corn or grass, and a few with heath or fern.  One of these little hills was distinguished by a parish church at the top, presenting a striking feature in the landscape.  Another of these elevations, situated in the centre of the valley, was adorned with a venerable holly tree, which had grown there for ages.  Its singular height and wide-spreading dimensions not only render it an object of curiosity to the traveller, but of daily usefulness to the pilot, as a mark visible from the sea, whereby to direct his vessel safe into harbour.  Villages, churches, country-seats, farm-houses, and cottages were scattered over every part of the southern valley.  In this direction, also, at the foot of the hill where I was stationed, appeared the ancient mansion, which I had just quitted, embellished with its woods, groves, and gardens.

South-eastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by the horizon.  The sun shone, and gilded the waves with a glittering light that sparkled in the most brilliant manner.  More to the east, in continuation of that line of hills where I was placed, rose two downs, one beyond the other, both covered with sheep, and the sea just visible over the farthest of them, as a terminating boundary. 

In this point ships were seen, some sailing, others at anchor.  Here the little river, which watered the southern valley, finished its course, and ran through meadows into the sea, in an eastward direction.

On the north the sea appeared like a noble river, varying from three to seven miles in breadth, between the banks of the opposite coast and those of the island which I inhabited.  Immediately underneath me was a fine woody district of country, diversified by many pleasing objects.  Distant towns were visible on the opposite shore.  Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station which this northern channel afforded them.  The eye roamed with delight over an expanse of near and remote beauties, which alternately caught the observation, and which harmonised together, and produced a scene of peculiar interest.

Westward, the hills followed each other, forming several intermediate and partial valleys, in a kind of undulations, like the waves of the sea, and, bending to the south, completed the boundary of the larger valley before described, to the southward of the hill on which I sat.  In many instances the hills were cultivated with corn to their very summits, and seemed to defy the inclemency of weather, which, at these heights,

usually renders the ground incapable of bringing forth and ripening the crops of grain.  One hill alone, the highest in elevation, and about ten miles to the south-westward, was enveloped in a cloud, which just permitted a dim and hazy sight of a signal-post, a lighthouse, and an ancient chantry, built on its summit.

Amidst these numerous specimens of delightful scenery I found a mount for contemplation, and here I indulged it.

“How much of the natural beauties of Paradise still remain in the world, although its spiritual character has been so awfully defaced by sin!  But when Divine grace renews the heart of the fallen sinner, Paradise is regained, and much of its beauty restored to the soul.  As this prospect is compounded of hill and dale, land and sea, woods and plains, all sweetly blended together and relieving each other in the landscape; so do the gracious dispositions wrought in the soul produce a beauty and harmony of scene to which it was before a stranger.”

I looked towards the village in the plain below, where the Dairyman’s younger daughter was buried.  I retraced the simple solemnities of the funeral.  I connected the principles and conduct of her sister with the present probably happy state of her soul in the world of spirits, and was

greatly impressed with a sense of the importance of family influence as a means of grace.  “That young woman,” I thought, “has been the conductor of not only a sister, but, perhaps, a father and mother also, to the true knowledge of God, and may, by Divine blessing, become so to others.  It is a glorious occupation to win souls to Christ, and guide them out of Egyptian bondage through the wilderness into the promised Canaan.  Happy are the families who are walking hand in hand together, as pilgrims, towards the heavenly country.  May the number of such be daily increasing!”

Casting my eye over the numerous dwellings in the vales on the right and left, I could not help thinking, “How many of their inhabitants are ignorant of the ways of God, and strangers to his grace!  May this thought stimulate to activity and diligence in the cause of immortal souls!  They are precious in God’s