able as that of rendering himself useful to his fellow-mortals;—who in every instance disregards and sacrifices his own interests, to render himself serviceable to another;—who, in the short span of life, crowds into it all the good in his power;—who, in denying himself, follows the dictates of the gospel, whose disciple he is;—and whose heart expands with universal compassion, benevolence and love, the spring of all his actions? Such was Doctor Lovesworth; and Rosilia loved, esteemed, and revered him, because such was his character.
Having extended their walk beyond their usual boundary, in the circuit they made towards home, they accidentally missed their way. Fatigued, and wishing to repose themselves, they were pleased, on perceiving at no great distance a humble, but beautifully picturesque cottage, situated upon the declivity of a hill, surrounded on all sides by tufted beauties. Upon approaching nearer, they observed at the door a young woman of rustic, but neat appearance, holding in her arms a child of soft and lovely mien, upon whom she was lavishing her fond caresses. The flush of health was on her cheek, and the glow of pleasure in her eye, as she fondly caressed the playful innocent in her arms. Rosilia could have snatched from her the sweet babe, and wished she had been the nurse.
Beckoning to the young woman, the Doctor expressed a desire to rest awhile in her humble abode, and was cheerfully welcomed. The child, which was
