her in these researches was, that she was surrounded by a number of perverse and seductive enchantresses, who, from morning till night, would relate to her wondrous tales of her present abode, and insinuate that she was sent hither as a guest to a banquet, to partake of the indulgences that surrounded her. They discoursed to her merely of honors, of titles, of wealth, of enjoyment. Yet the innocent maiden yielded not to their allurements and specious counsel; but refused the proffered advantages, when she discovered that they could not be attained without staining her native purity. "No," exclaimed she, "these things are not esteemed in the country I have left, and whither I hope to return." But where is that beloved land? Alas! this was a question she herself could not answer. The enchantresses, in the meantime, ridiculed what they termed her fancies; censured, as absurd, her ideas both of her former state and of the future-the gloomy, doubtful future, and invited her to partake of the enjoyments now within her reach. They were seconded in all their seductive wiles by a skilful artist, who depicted, with the most beautiful tints, and with a voluptuous pencil, images of happiness, delight, and enjoyment. Still nothing was able completely to satisfy the melancholy captive, who dreaded to lose that which she could neither entirely forget nor clearly remember; and which, although she at times felt it with such consciousness, she could not describe. But some unseen guardian watched over and consoled her: frequently in the shadow of midnight when those her subtle seducers were lulled asleep, an invisible visitor hovered over her couch, and whispered to her, "Do not resign thyself to despondency." And this voice, though but heard

for a moment, and as fleeting as all else that is most fair in this life, sufficed to remind her of the ineffable delight it once had been her lot to enjoy.

Whatever was most touching in music, sublime in poetry, noble in art, appeared to her to be some reminiscence of her former state of existence, and affected her as powerfully, as a memorial of his distant native land, does the solitary stranger. The joy, however, that she felt on such occasions was quickly succeeded by vexation, as often as involuntary comparisons obtruded upon her. "Here," she exclaimed, "I am often compelled to hate; while in the happy region I have quitted, there was but one universal law, and that was to love. There love ever breathed with the genial warmth of eternal spring; while here self-love constantly freezes the affections. There the thoughts and feelings of the heart were as palpable to sense as colors and sounds; here, on the contrary, we are obliged to make use of very imperfect expedients in order to express them-how many inanimate letters, how many ambiguous and obscure words are requisite to convey a single feeling, a single thought, however powerful be the one, or however luminous the other! I well remember, that in my former habitation there was neither yesterday, nor to-morrow, but existence was one continued day, uninterrupted by gloom or by night. Here how grudgingly is time bestowed, and on what mean uses is it employed! There whole ages seemed but as a minute, while spent in contemplating Him to whom I was then so near, and from whom I am now removed so far."

She admired the pictures of nature, and loved to contemplate their sublime beauty in the rolling storm, when the waters of the deep foam against

the granite rocks, and the creaking forests bend beneath the steps of the giant power that strides through the air. Yet was her bosom filled with a holier joy in the mild evenings of spring, when nature, like a young mother watching beside the cradle of her infant, breathes new life and fragrance over the new-born year;—when every flower is gemmed with dewy crystals that reflect the full-orbed moon, or the radiant stars. At such times she would exclaim, “Well does this brief moment of tranquillity remind me of that abode of ever-during peace, in which I once dwelt !"

Thus did the captive bride abandon herself to secret longings for her beloved: comparing herself to a ray of light immured in a dark fog, she endeavored to preserve her lustre unobserved. At length she succeeded in making herself acquainted with the place of her banishment; and now that she discovered how valueless are all its pretended treasures, she resisted the enticements of those who labored to seduce her, and no longer trusted their officious services, or their winning allurements. To their arts, or rather to her own frail desires, she now opposed the commands of her parent and the shield of truth. From this moment their blandishments were rendered ineffectual; for nothing that is corrupted with falsehood is able to pass through the gates of truth. It was then that for the first time she comprehended her own mysterious fate, and her lofty destination. But the term of her imprisonment was not yet completed! however powerfully she felt the recollections of her native region revive within her, she was so weakened by her captivity, that she had not sufficient force to break asunder the fetters that yet retained

her in durance. Still must she continue in bondage, -a prisoner and a slave.

But time hastened to work her release, and she perceived, with satisfaction, that the cage in which she was confined daily became weaker and weaker; while the enchantresses also desisted from their seductions; till at length she exclaimed in a voice of rapture, "The hour of my liberation is at hand!" And lo! that prison which once seemed so firm, now threatens every instant to fall to pieces-its bars yielded almost to a touch. Even the captive herself became as much changed as her abode: wings seemed to grow from her shoulders. "I feel," she cried, "that I shall not much longer be separated from my betrothed. Soon-very soon, shall I fly to meet him,-fly, as a liberated dove, to his embrace; to the happy region of my birth; there will my affection be repaid; there will my patience obtain its reward."

CHAP. III.

1. The Garden of Eden; a Bible Lesson. 2. Sacred Imagery; another Bible Lesson.

THE GARDEN OF EDEN.

JAMES and Ellen, with their older sister, Martha, were sitting round the table one Sabbath evening, with their Bibles before them, ready to study their Sabbath school lessons.

"I wonder," said James, as he sat for some time, turning over the leaves of the Bible, with his elbow upon the table, and his head resting upon his hand"I wonder what the people used to have to do in old times? It only tells in the Bible about their talking and having battles, and going about from one place to another."

"The Bible doesn't tell us what they were doing all the time, to be sure," said Ellen: "for it would take up the whole in telling about one war, if it did." "No" said James; "but I meant, I wondered if they didn't keep stores, or work at any trades."

Why," said Martha, "what is said about the very first man that lived? He found enough to do even before there was another man in the world besides himself."

"Adam ?" said Ellen, "why, I always imagine Adam and Eve, as walking about in the garden and not having any thing particular to do but to enjoy the prospect and to talk with each other."

"But,” said Martha, “the Bible doesn't tell us

80."

"Why, the Bible doesn't say any thing about it, does it?"