than beauty dearer,' but his features, usually melancholy, were always lighted with affection's ray, when turned to his fond, his endearing wife.

Ah! how often does misfortune visit the abode of the good man; how often do we see vice surrounded with affluence, and every thing this world deems essential to life, while the man of worth is obliged to exercise his patience, his resignation, within a lonely dungeon. But let us visit the hearts of each-in the one we see the gnawing pangs of conscience embittering his sleepless nights, and, like the blight at the root of a beautiful tree, bearing that about him which will inevitably prove his destruction; while the man who has acted conscientiously towards God and his neighbour, who has labored to provide for those near and dear to him, though he has not prospered in his attempts, feels more inward peace than such as revelling in ill-gotten wealth, and squandering in vice and profligacy their abundance, must hereafter render up to Him who gave, an account of the stewardship they thus abuse.

Mr. Somerville, tranquil amidst affliction,

still clings to Hope, that beacon of life; still whispers a prayer to heaven to be either restored to his beloved wife, that dear partner who never forsook him in the hour of trial; who visits his cell, and comforted him with her affection; for her and his dear children he wishes for liberty and prosperity, to which he otherwise would be indifferent.

Mrs. Somerville had, to the present time, avoided telling Tommy of his Papa's fate.When he was but four years of age, Mr. So merville left them, so that two years had robbed Tommy of the recollection of his papa's features. Mrs. Somerville had, therefore, occasionally ventured to take him to his father; and oh, how delightful, yet how heartrending, was it to this fond parent, to press his son's hand, to gaze on his loved features, yet check at the same time his parental feelings.

Tommy, naturally alive to pity and feeling, told Geraldine how much he liked the poor gentleman who kissed and embraced him so fondly. Geraldine's heart bled with anguish, for she knew it was her own Papa of whom

Tommy spoke; she felt great anxiety to revisit his abode, and at length Mr. Somerville determined that Tommy should be made acquainted with the situation of his father.

The morning arrived: Nature smiled with beauty, and the sun, which rose with unusual lustre, seemed to mock the habitation of misery. Mrs. Somerville, accompanied by her children, knocked at the prison gate; they were soon admitted, and she proceeded to her husband's room, and rapped gently at the door; she heard no reply, but the agitated step of Mr. Somerville. pacing his confined room: presently she recognised his voice, repeating the words of Shakspeare, of whom he was an enthusiastic admirer

"Mine honor keeps the weather of my fate. Life every man holds dear; but the dear man Holds houor far more precious dear than life." All was again hushed in silence, and Mrs. Somerville repeated the signal for admittance.He heard the well-known sound, he threw open the door, and welcomed, thrice welcomed them to a heart a thousand times more

capacious than his little room. "My dear wife, and you my dear children, you are come to a father, who loves you and offers up his daily prayers, for your happiness; but alas!”—and he dashed a tear from his sunken eye-“But God's will be done;" we will not repine at a lot ordained by Heaven. Let us learn, my dear children, from the example of your excellent mother, to bear, unrepiningly, the ills of life; to submit with resignation to the Divine will, and pursue, undeviatingly, the path of duty."

Geraldine wept undisguisedly, for hers was not an age to check the tear which flowed profusely for parents so beloved. Tommy clung to his Papa's knee, exclaiming, in a passion of grief, "I will never leave you, dear Papa; do let me stay here; I will be very very good; you shall talk to me of Mamma, and Geraldine shall come and shew you her pretty drawings." The simplicity of the little boy, the look of conscious solicitude which accompanied his request, brought a smile of affection to the eye of Mr. Somerville; but which was followed a sigh of regret, that one so young, so art

less, should thus early be acquainted with misery. "Well, my dear," said Mr. Somerville, seeing Tommy still urgent for an answer, 66 you shall visit me oftener, but you cannot stay here now; besides you must take care of your mother and sister; but tell me, my boy, what have you learnt since I saw you." "Oh! papa, I can read the psalms, and Mamma taught me to repeat a hymn; and Geraldine has learnt it too, and can sing it; and she draws so prettily, and is always so busy." "Hush!" whispered Geraldine," you must not talk of my drawings." Tommy was silent, for he loved his sister dearly; but Mr. Somerville wished to know why Tommy was not to speak of the drawings; Geraldine blushingly replied, "I did not mean to hide any thing from you, dear Papa, but I thought I might assist Mamma a little, if I could dispose of my drawings." "Now," said Tommy, "I will finish the story; you must know, Papa, that the other morning, it was but six o'Clock, and Geraldine was already dressed, drawing; as I came into the room, I heard her say, Ler drawings would