santly brooding over, and lamenting her bereavement.
I will not dilate upon the feelings with which I left the old house, the well-known garden, the little village church—then doubly dear to me, because my father, who for thirty years had taught and prayed within its walls lay slumbering now beneath its flags—and the old bare hills, delightful in their very desolation, with the narrow vales, between, smiling in green wood and sparkling water—the house where I was born, the scene of all my early associations, the place where, throughout life, my earthly affections had been centred;—and left them to return no more! True, I was going back to Horton Lodge where, amid many evils, one source of pleasure yet remained; but it was pleasure mingled with excessive pain, and my stay, alas! was limited to six weeks.
And even of that precious time, day after day slipped by and I did not see him:—except at church, I never saw him for a fortnight after my return. It seemed a long time to me: and, as I was often out with my rambling pupil, of course hopes would keep rising, and disappointments would ensue; and then
