ears to the blasphemous oaths of his companions, to the
imprecations on his own lips. The career of folly and of sin was destined
to be closed; and rather would we draw a veil over its every scene. Step by
step, he trod the path of sin, until at last, urged by worldly and false
friends to a quarrel, commenced on the slightest grounds, he challenged one
who had really never offended him; the challenge was accepted, and
then--Walter Lee was a murderer! He gazed upon the youthful, noble
countenance; he felt again and again the quiet pulse, weeping when he saw
the useless efforts to bring back life.

He was a murderer, in the sight of God and man! for he had been taught that
He who gave life, alone had the power to take it away. He knew that God
would require of him his brother's blood. He knew, too, that though the
false code of honor in society would acquit him, yet he would be branded,
even as Cain. He could see the finger of scorn pointed towards him; he
could hear men, good men, say, "There is Walter Lee, who killed a man in a
duel!"

Ah! Cousin Janet, not in vain were your earnest teachings. Not in vain had
you sung by his pillow, in boyhood, of Jesus, who loved all, even his
enemies. Not in vain had you planted the good seed in the ground, and
watered it. Not in vain are you now kneeling by your bedside, imploring God
not to forsake forever the child of your prayers. Go to your rest in peace,
for God will yet bring him home, after all his wanderings; for Walter Lee,
far away, is waking and restless; oppressed with horror at his crime,
flying from law and justice, flying from the terrors of a burdened
conscience--he is a murderer!

Like Cain, he is a wanderer. He gazes into the depths of the dark sea he is
crossing; but there is no answering abyss in his heart, where he can lose
the memory of his deed. He cannot count the wretched nights of watching,
and of thought. Time brings no relief, change no solace. When the soul in
its flight to eternity turns away from God, how droop her wings! She has no
star to guide her upward course; but she wanders through a strange land,
where all is darkness and grief.

He traversed many a beautiful country; he witnessed scenes of grandeur; he
stood before the works of genius and of art; he listened to music, sweet
like angels' songs; but has he peace? Young reader, there is no peace
without God. Now in this world, there is many a brow bending beneath the
weight of its flowers. Cou