The time, the wished-for time at length arrived for Charles to enter npon his new situation. He took the coach and arrived there soon after noon, and took up his abode at Martin's pretty cottage, which he had fixed upon. It was a room opening by a door into a flower garden, the two windows filled with large ever verdant jeraneums, and commanding a view of two clear streams, the public road, meadows, and hills, with beautifully hanging woods, betwixt Kindley's mansion and Gell's dwelling.

The friends had all met at Mr. Kindley's to welcome Charles to his residence among them, and a messenger came to invite him to tea. The congratulations of five smiling young ladies, adorned with elegance, grace, beauty, and religion, with whom he walked arm in arm encircled up the long level lawn, skirting the stream, to the favourite alcove under the shadow of branching limes; the pleasantry and wisdom of Mr. Kindley-the polite and sensible conversation of Mr. and Mrs. Whiteden and her elegant sister, --and Mrs. Gell's courteousness and piety-and John's cordiality and manly sense, formed a scene so perfectly in contrast with the late dull sameness of college life, that Charles seemed in fairy land, walking on enchanted ground; and his heart continually bounded with thankful exultation. Here, too, Charles constantly attended his dear friend and tutor, Mr. Bred well, at his church on the Sunday, and found in his prudent suggestions and paternal kindness much benefit and comfort. Generally on the Thursday evening Charles escorted the ladies to his evening lecture, in which it need scarcely be told that for the most part he walked arm in arm with Eugenia.

On the Tuesday evenings, in the summer time, he conducted them to Mr. Gullan's private lecture at--Bellam, where he met a numerous party at his house of both sexes,

the more respectable part of whom sat in the study, while the others filled the kitchen and the hali.

Among other ladies was a very interesting young lady, who constantly attended Mr. Gullam's ministry; for under God she recognized him as her spiritual father With her came frequently her beloved sister, Marianne, and as we shall have occasion, if we pursue our subject, to speak of these two characters, the reader will naturally expect that we here stop the course of our narrative to introduce them to their notice.

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE SISTERS; OR THE HISTORY OF SERINA AND MARIANNE.

SERINA and Marianne were the youngest daughters of the well-known J. Rivers, Esq. of Bellam. The other sisters being much older, Serina and Marianne became naturally much attached to each other

Marianne's age did not exceed her's more than two years. This intimacy was increased by time, and by a similarity of pursuits; till at length uniting in the same little occupations, in reading the same books, in entering with equal interest into every subject, Serina and Marianne Rivers became inseparable companions and friends. They both first received their education at the boardingschool at Martel, kept by two maiden ladies.

The affection subsisting between the two sisters was often amiably distinguished in mutual expostulations, helps, consolations, or voluntary punishments, according as disgrace, difficulty, or reward, called forth these juvenile exertions of reciprocal benevolence. Marianne, however, was naturally remarked for her firmness, or obstinacy, or sullenness, as it was then termed, and Serina for her cheerfulness and desire of approbation; and these opposite tempers admirably contributed at times to cheer and encourage, or to plead in each other's behalf A friendship thus ce

mented grew with their growth, and ripened with their years, and was gradually nurturing to produce blessed unfading fruits of mutual, and, I trust, everlasting joy.

An interruption, however, of this intimacy took place. Serina was taken by her father to the more complete and popular school kept by Miss Grenare, near London; and after she left Marianne was sent there. While Marianne was improving herself under Grenare, Serina was taken by her father to her aunt Sampson's, near Bangor, in North Wales, where she remained improving her imagination among those romantic scenes for nearly a year, when she was summoned home to attend the couch of her dying father. There she found her Marianne, who had spent some weeks already endeavouring in vain to administer to his relief. These two sisters became the constant attendants of their father through the weeks of his tedious languishment; and towards them he often discovered great affection and kindness for their steady and unwearied attention to him. "God alone can do me good!" he would say; "go to your rest, my children." They would feign to retire, but with anxious and affectionate solicitude they would wait in an adjoining chamber, piously deceiving him and the rest of the family, in order at the slightest call to be ready to administer to his relief. At length åfter a long illness, they saw their father sink, incapable of relief, into the grave.

The two sisters having been companions in waiting on their dying father, remained together again but a few months. Marianne was sent away to finish her education at a school at Brighton. The separation was painful indeed to both; and Serina passed many a night with tears regretting her absence, and longing for her return. So much were her affections devoted to her Marianne,

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that an illness was the consequence. She was just reco vering when the celebrated Mrs. Gorlen, of Linsworth, called to pay a visit to her elder sister, who was formerly her schoolfellow. She was so struck with the interesting appearance of Serina, that she refused to leave the house till she obtained the consent of her surviving parent to take Serina with her for a few months. The visit proved nine months. This was a scene of temptation indeed. Gaiety, pomp, pleasure, riot, dissipation, and luxury, continually surrounded her; yet such was the steadiness of Serina at this early age, that her conversation and conduct were a restraint even on her dissipated friends as well, as under God, her safeguard. Notwithstanding the urgent entreaties of Mrs. Gorlin, and her splendid promises, Serina wrote to her friends, and they fetched her home. Mrs. G. had so few domestic comforts, that she was very desirous of retaining Serina. She had, when in the bloom of youth and beauty, at the age of twenty-one, thrown herself and all her immense property into the arms of Captain Gorlin, who was more than twice her age. His neglect drove her to excesses of extravagance and folly, and rendered her the prey of chagrin and gloom; and she had a mother whose avarice and hardihood rendered her miserable. In a few years all her property was squandered away, and she sunk into the grave in the midst of poverty and wretchedness!

Her life and death spoke an impressive lesson to Serina and this, together with the death of her father, contributed to solemnize her mind, and to prepare it as a soil suitable to receive the seed of divine instruction and piety.

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Serina and Marianne were at last united again under

their mother's roof; and their days were passed in each others sweet society; every difficulty was mutually felt, and