e left, although, alas! events have occurred there of a very painful
nature."

"And why, alas, my dear child?" said Mr. Howard, affectionately. "Do you
deem it so sad a thing to die?"

"It is wrong, I know, to regard it thus, Mr. Howard," replied Ellen;
"but yet, to leave all those we love on earth, to sever the tender cords
of affection binding us unto this world, must be, even to the strongest
and most pious minds, a draught of bitterness."

"Do not, my dear children," said Mr. Howard, "imagine I deem it wrong to
indulge in earthly affections. Far from it; they are given us to sweeten
life, to draw our hearts in thanksgiving to him who gave them, and thus
indulged are pleasing unto Him. And how did you find poor Nanny to-day?"
he added, after a brief pause.

"Suffering very much in body, but in a blessed state of mind," replied
Ellen, "which she greatly attributed to you; for she told me, before my
aunt discovered them and placed them where they now are, before she saw
you, death was a trouble awful in anticipation. She had ever tried to do
her duty in life, to remember her Maker in her youth, and believed that
she had succeeded; but when she knew that she must die, all appeared
changed; the aspect of death was different, when seemingly at a distance
to that which it presented when near at hand. She longed for some
minister of the Lord to pray for her, to comfort her in those moments
when suffering prevented serious thoughts, and it was affecting to hear
her bless that charity which had not only placed her soul under your
guidance, but provided also so many bodily comforts."

"And you have been exercising the duties of the ministry before you have
donned your gown, my dear Herbert," said Mr. Howard, glancing
approvingly on his young friend. "Glad indeed shall I be to hail you as
a young brother in my sacred office; for with you it will be indeed the
service of the heart, and not of interest or compulsion. Would that your
friend Arthur possessed one-half of your earnest zeal, or that you
could inspire him with the same love for his sacred calling which
animates you."

"I know not what to make of Arthur," said Herbert, somewhat sadly, "he
is strangely, unaccountably changed the last few months. When he was
first settled in his curacy, his conduct was such as to excite the
approbation of both my father and yourself; and now, I greatly fear,
that he is alienating both."

"Do not condemn him harshly, without good p