id="page35"/>ideal reality to scenes which are gone by for ever.  They live again in revived imagery, and we seem to hear and see with renewed emotions what we heard and saw at a former period.  Successions of such recollected circumstances often form a series of welcome memorials.  In religious meditations the memory becomes a sanctified instrument of spiritual improvement.

Another part of this animated picture is furnished by the pencil of Hope.  She draws encouraging prospects for the soul, by connecting the past and present with the future.  Seeing the promises afar off, she is persuaded of their truth, and embraces them as her own.

The Spirit of God gives a blessing to both these acts of the mind, and employs them in the service of religion.  Every faculty of body and soul, when considered as a part of “the purchased possession” of the Saviour, assumes a new character.  How powerfully does the apostle, on this ground, urge a plea for holy activity and watchfulness!  “What! know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own?  For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s” (1 Cor. vi. 19, 20).

The Christian may derive much profit and

enjoyment from the use of the memory, as it concerns those transactions in which he once bore a part.  In his endeavours to recall past conversations and intercourse with deceased friends in particular, the powers of remembrance greatly improve by exercise.  One revived idea produces another, till the mind is most agreeably and usefully occupied with lively and holy imaginations.

“Lull’d in the countless chambers of the brain,
Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain;
Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise!
Each stamps its image as the other flies;
Each, as the varied avenues of sense
Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense,
Brightens or fades: yet all with sacred art
Control the latent fibres of the heart.”

May it please God to bless, both to the reader and the writer, this feeble attempt to recollect some of the communications I once enjoyed in my visits to the Dairyman’s dwelling!

Very soon after the receipt of the last letter, I rode, for the first time, to see the family at their own house.  The principal part of the road lay through retired, narrow lanes, beautifully overarched with groves of nut and other trees, which screened the traveller from the rays of the sun, and afforded many interesting objects for admiration

in the flowers, shrubs, and young trees which grew upon the high banks on each side of the road.  Many grotesque rocks, with little trickling streams of water occasionally breaking out of them, varied the recluse scenery, and produced a romantic and pleasing effect.

Here and there the most distant prospect beyond was observable through gaps and hollow places on the road-side.  Lofty hills, with navy signal-posts, obelisks, and lighthouses on their summits, appeared at these intervals; rich cornfields were also visible through some of the open places; and now and then, when the road ascended a hill, the sea, with ships at various distances, was seen.  But for the most part shady seclusion, and objects of a more minute and confined nature, gave a character to the journey and invited contemplation.

How much do they lose who are strangers to serious meditation on the wonders and beauties of nature!  How gloriously the God of creation shines in his works!  Not a tree, or leaf, or flower, not a bird or insect, but it proclaims in glowing language, “God made me.”

As I approached the village where the good old Dairyman dwelt, I observed him in a little field, driving his cows before him towards a yard and hovel which adjoined his cottage.  I advanced

very near him without his observing me, for his sight was dim.  On my calling out to him, he started at the sound of my voice, but with much gladness of heart welcomed me, saying, “Bless your heart, sir, I am very glad you are come; we have looked for you every day this week.”

The cottage-door opened, and the daughter came out, followed by her aged and infirm mother.  The sight of me naturally brought to recollection the grave at which we had before met.  Tears of affection mingled with the smile of satisfaction with which I was received by these worthy cottagers.  I dismounted, and was conducted through a neat little garden, part of which was shaded by two large overspreading elm trees, to the house.  Decency and order were manifest within and without.  No excuse was made here, on the score of poverty, for confusion and uncleanliness in the disposal of their little household.  Everything wore the aspect of neatness and propriety.  On each side of the fire-place stood an old oaken chair, where the venerable parents rested their weary limbs after the day’s labour was over.  On a shelf in one corner lay two Bibles, with a few religious books and tracts.  The little room had two windows; a lovely prospect of hills, woods, and fields appeared

through one; the other was more than half obscured by the branches of a vine which was trained across it; between its leaves the sun shone, and cast a cheerful light over the whole place.

“This,” thought I, “is a fit residence for piety, peace, and contentment.  May I learn a fresh lesson for advancement in each, through the blessing of God, on this visit!”

“Sir,” said the daughter, “we are not worthy that you should come under our roof.  We take it very kind that you should travel so far to see us.”

“My Master,” I replied, “came a great deal farther to visit us poor sinners.  He left the bosom of his Father, laid aside his glory, and came down to this lower world on a visit of mercy and love; and ought not we, if we profess to follow Him, to bear each other’s infirmities, and go about doing good as He did?”

The old man now entered, and joined his wife and daughter in giving me a cordial welcome.  Our conversation soon turned to the loss they had so lately sustained.  The pious and sensible disposition of the daughter was peculiarly manifested, as well in what she said to her parents as in what she more immediately addressed to myself.  I had now a further opportunity of

remarking the good sense and agreeable manner which accompanied her expressions of devotedness to God and love to Christ, for the great mercies which He had bestowed upon her.  During her residence in different gentlemen’s families where she had been in service, she had acquired a superior behaviour and address; but sincere piety rendered her very humble and unassuming in manner and conversation.  She seemed anxious to improve the opportunity of my visit to the best purpose for her own and her parents’ sake; yet there was nothing of unbecoming forwardness, no self-sufficiency or conceitedness in her conduct.  She united the firmness and solicitude of the Christian with the modesty of the female and the dutifulness of the daughter.  It was impossible to be in her company, and not observe how truly her temper and conversation adorned the principles which she professed.

I soon discovered how eager and how successful also she had been in her endeavours to bring her father and mother to the knowledge and experience of the truth.  This is a lovely feature in the character of a young Christian.  If it have