, with all
those trees round it."

At this instant a tall, manly-looking person approached from behind.
Have we not seen that face before? It is a touch graver than of old, and
its lines have a more thoughtful significance; but all the vivacity of
James Benton sparkles in that quick smile as his eye falls on the old
man.

"I _thought_ you could not keep away from us long," said he, with the
prompt cheerfulness of his boyhood, and laying hold of both of Uncle
Lot's hard hands.

They approached the gate; a bright face glances past the window, and in
a moment Grace is at the door.

"Father! _dear_ father!"

"You'd _better_ make believe be so glad," said Uncle Lot, his eyes
glistening as he spoke.

"Come, come, father, I have authority in these days," said Grace,
drawing him towards the house; "so no disrespectful speeches; away with
your hat and coat, and sit down in this great chair."

"So, ho! Miss Grace," said Uncle Lot, "you are at your old tricks,
ordering round as usual. Well, if I must, I must;" so down he sat.

"Father," said Grace, as he was leaving them, after a few days' stay,
"it's Thanksgiving day next month, and you and mother must come and stay
with us."

Accordingly, the following month found Aunt Sally and Uncle Lot by the
minister's fireside, delighted witnesses of the Thanksgiving presents
which a willing people were pouring in; and the next day they had once
more the pleasure of seeing a son of theirs in the sacred desk, and
hearing a sermon that every body said was "the best that he ever
preached;" and it is to be remarked, that this was the standing
commentary on all James's discourses, so that it was evident he was
going on unto perfection.

"There's a great deal that's worth having in this 'ere life after all,"
said Uncle Lot, as he sat by the coals of the bright evening fire of
that day; "that is, if we'd only take it when the Lord lays it in our
way."

"Yes," said James; "and let us only take it as we should, and this life
will be cheerfulness, and the next fulness of joy."

LOVE _versus_ LAW.

How many kinds of beauty there are! How many even in the human form!
There are the bloom and motion of childhood, the freshness and ripe
perfection of youth, the dignity of manhood, the softness of woman--all
different, yet each in its kind perfect.

But there is none so peculiar, none that bears more the image of the
heavenly, than the beauty of _Christian old age_. It is like t