h came from your lips last night,
after you had heard my poor husband's history. Those strange words,
drawn out with so much seeming indifference, have produced in my husband
the blessed effect which you have observed. They have altered the
current of his ideas. He no longer thinks himself the only being in the
world doomed to destruction,--the only being capable of committing the
never-to-be-forgiven sin. Your supposition that that which harrowed his
soul is of frequent occurrence amongst children, has tranquillized him;
the mist which hung over his mind has cleared away, and he begins to see
the groundlessness of his apprehensions. The Lord has permitted him to
be chastened for a season, but his lamp will only burn the brighter for
what he has undergone."

Sunday came, fine and glorious as the last. Again my friends and myself
breakfasted together--again the good family of the house on the hill
above, headed by the respectable master, descended to the meadow. Peter
and his wife were ready to receive them. Again Peter placed himself at
the side of the honest farmer, and Winifred by the side of her friend.
"Wilt thou not come?" said Peter, looking towards me with a face in which
there was much emotion. "Wilt thou not come?" said Winifred, with a face
beaming with kindness. But I made no answer, and presently the party
moved away, in the same manner in which it had moved on the preceding
sabbath, and I was again left alone.

The hours of the sabbath passed slowly away. I sat gazing at the sky,
the trees, and the water. At last I strolled up to the house and sat
down in the porch. It was empty; there was no modest maiden there, as on
the preceding sabbath. The damsel of the book had accompanied the rest.
I had seen her in the procession, and the house appeared quite deserted.
The owners had probably left it to my custody, so I sat down in the
porch, quite alone. The hours of the sabbath passed heavily away.

At last evening came, and with it the party of the morning, I was now at
my place beneath the oak. I went forward to meet them. Peter and his
wife received me with a calm and quiet greeting, and passed forward. The
rest of the party had broke into groups. There was a kind of excitement
amongst them, and much eager whispering. I went to one of the groups;
the young girl of whom I have spoken more than once, was speaking: "Such
a sermon," said she, "it has never been our lot to hear; Peter never
be