CHAPTER VII.

ONE grand and peculiarly excellent characteristic of the Christian religion is, that its resources are always in proportion to the wants of its true professors. If the wickedness and cruelty of men gather about them with a more frowning aspect, their Redeemer looks upon them with a kinder countenance. If the calamities and sufferings of life embattle themselves thicker and thicker around them, the objects on which they have fixed their hopes, beyond the grave, come into a better light, and fill their souls more abundantly with their heavenly relishes.

The truth of this remark was well illustrated in the conduct of Mr. Bruce. When he received the tidings of his son's death, with the account of the unmurmuring and triumphant manner in which he had closed his short life, the resigned father looking to heaven, said, "My son, thou hast died in a good cause. The name of the Lord be magnified."

Having uttered these words, he turned suddenly to the peasant, who had brought the sad intelligence, and said, "My son is now safe; but where is my daughter? Have they murdered her too?"

"Your daughter," replied the peasant, "is in the village, with the old woman whom she used to be so fond of. She was SO overcome by her brother's cruel death, that she remained for some time in a state of insensibility, but she is now recovered somewhat: although they are afraid she is still in a dangerous condition."

"I knew it," said Mr. Bruce, "I knew she would never survive her brother's death. Her heart was too tender. It is broken: it is broken. O, my dear daughter! must I lose thee too? My two children in one day! "O, Father in heaven!" he then exclaimed, "thou knowest what is best for me, and all that is mine. Do with us as seemeth good unto thee." And then addressing himself to the peasant, said, "Can I not see her once ere she depart? I must see her. I will venture into the village under the shadow, of night. If I should fall into my enemies hands, the Lord will deliver my soul."

"You must not venture," said the peasant. "If you fall into their hands, we will all lose a father,

who is our instructor and comforter in all our sufferings. Your daughter may soon be able to meet you in a place where you shall be in no danger."

"Nay," said the affectionate father, "but I must see her to-night. She hath need of comfort. Perhaps she will not see another day."

"Well, well, reverend sir," said the peasant: "We will do all we can to get you into the village safely. We will let you know when the soldiers have gone to rest. Then will be the safest time

for you."

"Do accordingly," replied the minister. "I will approach the village after night-fall, and wait in the hazel glen till you or some of your friends come to me. Go, and be mindful of your appointment."

When Mr. Bruce was left alone, he ventured out to the top of a hill hard by, whence he could espy the grave of his wife, and the smoke rising from the village, where his son had that day been put to death, and where his dear daughter, his only remaining earthly hope, lay on a bed of distress: And, truly, it needed something more than the mere firmness of natural fortitude to sustain his spirit, while he waited in anxious expectation the coming darkness.

Mary, to whom we now return, when she lived at the manse in peace, as we formerly remarked, was cheerful as the lark of the morning, and lovely as the flower, on which hath never breathed aught but the purest and gentlest breezes from the chambers of the south. And till her mother's death, she bore all the sufferings to which the family was subjected, with little change of spirit; and often did she cheer their wanderings by the sallies of her innocent mirth. Ever after her mother's death, however, although her father watched over her with the eye of a guardian angel, and her brother tended her with the most vigilant affection; she had lost much of her cheerfulness, and her health had been rather declining. The circumstances in which the family had been placed, had rendered her mother peculiarly dear to her; and her tender feelings never fully recovered from the shock they received by the sudden and cruel death of her mother. And now the still more untimely and cruel death of her brother, together with all the affecting circumstances with which it was connected, had entirely overcome her. After she had been carried into the old woman's house, and had recovered from the swoon into which she had fallen, when she heard that her brother's death was

sure, she exclaimed, for some minutes, "My brother! my dear brother! what will my father do?" and then relapsed into the swoon. During the whole course of the day, although she had resorted to the treasures of comfort that are laid up for all afflicted Christians, and although the peace which is from above had stilled the tumult of her soul, she fell at intervals into fainting fits; and as the evening and night approached they came on oftener, and continued longer. She felt that she was dying; and she had only one wish, she said, unfulfilled, that was, to see her father. "But he cannot come here without endangering his life," she would say; "and why should I wish him. I shall soon see him in heaven. He will not take care of himself when we are gone, and the persecutors will soon get him: but my father is prepared to die."

At the approach of night, Mr. Bruce, anxious to see his daughter, drew near the village. He staid in the hazel glen, as agreed on, till about midnight, when the peasant, faithful to his appointment, met him. As it happened, most of the soldiers, who were quartered in the village and its neighborhood, had been sent the preceding day on a distant excursion, and had not yet returned; and