in his parish. I have been permitted to make the last years of my cousin's life as happy as the present state of this earth will admit. Three of my dearest pupils are settled about me, namely, Miss Wynne, Miss Fenton, and Miss Dudley, all being married to gentlemen in the country. I have seen my children growing up around my table as I could wish; and lastly, though infinitely most important, I have reason to think, nay, I am assured, that there is a divine hand leading on all I love to that land which is very far off, where we shall see the King in his beauty, and shall be better able to understand the consolatory truth which our spiritual enemy would willingly hide from us, namely, that God is love.

26*

LE FEVRE.

THE beautiful province of Normandy, in France, has long been celebrated in history and fiction. Every Englishman must feel an interest in this country, because it was, in some respect, the seat of our fathers, the nursery of our present race of kings, and the scene of many a gallant exploit of our ancient princes and nobles. The times, indeed, are passing away in which the characters of the ambitious warrior, or the champions of the sword, are held up to the adoration of the multitude: nevertheless, the humble Christian finds ample occasion from these recollections for praising Him who has rendered the very vices of his creatures subservient to the general good of mankind, and has derived blessings to his chosen people from the grasping violence of William of Normandy, and the mad impetuosity of the gallant Richard, whose "lion's heart" now lies mouldering beneath the marble pavement of the cathedral of Rouen.

Independent, however, of these accidental circumstances (if accidental is a word allowed to a Christian), by which this province of Normandy is rendered thus interesting to the English traveller, many parts of it possess attractions which must have power over every heart, and must have a captivating effect to every eye. The road from Paris to Rouen líes through some of the finest parts of this beautiful region.

Scarcely has the traveller passed the towers of St. Germaine (beneath which the unfortunate James of England finished his disastrous reign), and left behind him the royal forest which is attached to the castle, before he enters a region of such smiling fertility, such apparent happiness, and rich abundance of natural beauties, that he is almost led to ask-How is it possible that the natives of such a paradise should be discontented? and how can we account for the wrecks and devastations of revolutionary fury, which are here as apparent as in the most dry and barren province of the realm?

The stone crucifixes and symbols of idolatry, which continually meet the eye at every turning of the road (although many of these have been mutilated by the hand of infidel rage), suggest the answer to this inquiry. Where the heart is not right towards God, no gifts of nature or of fortune can give peace of mind: on the contrary, in the absence of grace, prosperity itself excites proud and vindictive passions, and the trials inflicted by adversity only tend to harden. Heaven was no longer heaven to the rebellious angels when pride and ambition took possession of their minds; and the dreadful fall of these once-glorious spirits will afford a warning to all created beings, throughout the endless circles of eternity, and through the boundless regions of endless space. We must not, therefore, be surprised to find misery in the extreme in this lovely region, although its hills are clothed to their summits with vines; although gushing fountains and springs of the clearest water pour from every height; although the thatched cottages by the wayside are decorated with roses; although the fruit-trees-the pear, the apple, and the cherry-bend down in their season under their nectared burdens; though bees delight to dwell in every field, and every village may boast its little woods, its taper spire, and its venerable chateau, the relics of ancient feudal magnificence.

Such features as those above described, ever varied, and ever presenting themselves in new groups and points of view, are what offer themselves continually to the eye of the traveller on the road I am describing. And if we add to these the perpetual recurrence of the Seine, from whose fertile banks the highway seldom diverges to any great distance-with occasional scenes, in which the hills affect a bolder form, and the smaller woods assume the character of forests-in which the river is seen gushing under the stone arches of some bridge deep in the valley, and shaded by the silver willow-or the heights above the road show rough with rocks of granite, which project from the greensward like giants' tombs, or ruins of cities and towns whose record is now no more-we have done all that in us lies to describe the continual feasts which are prepared for the eye of the traveller in Higher Normandy: and though there are certain manufactories situated in some parts of the Valley of the Seine, these are, for the most part, ar

ranged so as not to hurt the eye; being placed in gardens laid out in neat parterres, and considerably shaded by trees. Nevertheless, it must be allowed that manufactories do not tend to magnify the beauty of a country; and though they may increase the opulence of its inhabitants, yet it is to be feared they have never yet been brought under such regulations as not to render them actually destructive of their spiritual good.

And now, having given some little description of the country in which the events I am about to relate took place, I shall proceed, without further prelude, to the history of Le Fevre; which I trust will excite the greater interest, from the assurance which I am enabled to give my reader, that it is not a mere work of imagination, being not only founded on facts, but true in every particular. And I trust that this little story will not be useless, in pointing out to such of the English as find it convenient to reside a while on the continent, or even to travel through foreign lands, with whatever haste, that the duties of love and Christian charity may still be exercised with profit, and are still as binding upon them as they were while in their own country: and that, although the leisure of the traveller may not permit him to visit the cottage of the poor man, or to watch by the bed of the peasant, yet that, by the means of "a word spoken in season," or a tract placed in the hand of a poor mendicant, he may be made the means of sowing a seed which may rise up and produce a thousand fold. Having, however, made this remark, we proceed to our narrative.

In a village in one of the manufacturing districts of this beautiful province lived a poor man, of the name of Le Fevre: he had been induced to fix his residence in this place by a prospect which a neighbouring manufactory held forth of affording him regular work throughout the year, and enabling him to maintain his wife and young family by his honest earnings; but Providence, who seeth not as men see, had other views for him in thus directing him in the choice of his habitation, and these were views abounding with purposes of love and mercy. Le Fevre was about thirty years of age, and, as we before hinted, a married man; and four lovely children (the two eldest, a boy and a girl, twins) were the fruits of his marriage.

1