time before had been filled and surrounded by busy throngs, now presented a beautiful picture of repose. No gravestone as yet arose within its green enclosure. It had this day been hallowed by the spirit of devotion; but it was a glad and kindly spirit, not yet saddened by mementos of mortality. I could easily interpret the pleasure which shone in the countenances of my companions, as they looked back and beheld their work, and anticipated the time when the office on which they were entering should enable them to build up nobler, and sanctify indestructible temples to the service of their Lord. It was quite dark when I reëntered the valley. As the night was warm, and the day had been one of unusual excitement and fatigue, I sauntered slowly on my way. I quitted the road for the fields, and when about half a mile from the village, arrived in front of a poor cottage. I had not been aware that I was approaching a dwelling, till, on turning a corner, I saw a bright gleam from the open door and unshuttered window reflected in the pool below. The circumstance of the door standing wide seemed to give me liberty to look in as I passed; and having looked in, I could not but stop. A young woman, whose countenance, though now composed, bore traces of many tears, was sitting on the side of a bed on which lay an infant, as I supposed, asleep. The husband was leaning over the table, shading his face with his hand. Edwards was there, and at the moment of my approach he was putting on his spectacles and opening the Bible which lay before him. Another glance at the child and a moment's consideration convinced me that its sleep was the repose of death, and added to the deep interest with which I listened to the words which Edwards read, and the observations which he afterwards made. The story of the Shunammite woman was naturally his choice, and he then read a few verses from the 18th of Matthew, explaining at their close that trust in the Giver of life is no less a duty now than in those remarkable times when the spirit was occasionally revived in the lifeless body, and that the assurance that no little one is forgotten by God ought to sustain the submissive spirit under the loss of a child, though the bereavement may be more painful than that of a limb or a sense. When he proposed prayer, I hastened away, but lingered within sight of the cottage in the hope that Edwards might come out and join me, which he soon did. "This has not been a day of unmixed happiness to you, my good friend," said I. "Which of our days are so, Sir? Joy and mourning go hand in hand through life." "The grave-yard of your chapel will be occupied almost as soon as its doors are opened." 'Yes, Sir. The child will be buried on Sunday. I supposed that some grey head would have been laid there first, and not the very youngest among us." "I hope you have left comfort behind you," said I: and I told him what I had seen. "At times like these, Sir," he replied, one may have more hope of doing good than when life runs smooth. The minds of these people are weary and their spirits weak, and they are ready to follow any friendly voice, and to listen to any kind words." "A friend of mine," said I, "who thinks that religion ought to be solely between a man and his God, might perhaps think differently, if he had been with you now." "No doubt, Sir, there is much in every man's heart which is known only to his God; and I feel very sure that religion may be kept alive by communion with him alone; but I judge, from all that I can understand and observe, that it is also intended to be a social bond. If it had not been, I should think our duty would have been set down for us in some regular form, like a code of laws, and not conveyed in such various ways as we find it." "True," said I. "There are not many distinct propositions in the holy law. It is not a formal collection of precepts and it seems to me that some of its most important instructions are to be gathered from parables and conversations; and that its highest truths are to be inferred, and not merely read and allowed.” “I think so, Sir; and surely people who take a common interest in these things can help one another to discover these truths. As long as men have a different experience and different views, they may help one another to understand their duty, as well as encourage each other to practise it. If we look upon it as a matter of feeling, it is yet more clear how one mind may comfort and aid another. These poor people would, I doubt not, have prayed and turned to their Bible, this night. But if each had done so in solitude, they might not have been able to compose their minds so soon, or they might not have found so great a variety of consolations as now that a friend, less deeply afflicted, has thought for them and felt with them; and I trust God has blessed our united prayers, as he will bless their solitary communion with him." "Or as I trust he will bless the devotions of the congregation on the Sabbath. I suppose you will adapt your service to the occasion." “I shall, Sir. For the sake of the people, as well as the mourners, it is desirable that no such occasion should be lost." On the Sunday morning, the parents and friends repaired from the burial-ground to the chapel, where Edwards addressed the congregation in his usual style of "primitive preaching." In consequence of the frequent renewal of our conversation, I found little difficulty in persuading L to accompany me. From his habitual command of countenance, I could form little judgment of what was passing within; but if he marked, as I did, the general spread of a kindly sympathy; if he noted with what seriousness the fathers looked upon their children, with what tenderness the mothers pressed their infants to their bosoms; if he approved the reverent stillness of the people, and the quietness with which they dispersed to their homes, he must have seen that (whatever be the abuses of the practice) it is good for men to meet in the house of God; and he might have been convinced that, however sacred is the communion between the spirit and its Father, a relation of spiritual brotherhood also exists between man and man. REVIEWS. DEMONOLOGY AND WITCHCRAFT.* CAN any body tell where Sir Walter Scott has been since he last met the public? Will Mr. Lockhart avouch that he has not found his way after Dante to Tartarus? Will Mr Murray declare that he has not been up to the moon to gather matter for the Family Library? It may be that he has only had a legacy of some of Faust's folios but something has happened to open his eyes upon the living population of a world which we had wrongly imagined to have tumbled back into chaos long ago. Considering the marvels he has to relate, we can but admire his condescension in choosing so humble a vehicle as No. XVI. of the Family Library. Here we have tidings of the fallen angels who loved this world too well; of Satan himself, and his dealings with Job, and of the bodily jeopardy of Peter when the Evil One desired to have him that he might sift him like wheat. Yet more; Sir Walter has found up Ithuriel's spear somewhere, and brought it back with him; and lo! the Heathen gods of all ages and nations before the Christian era start up into their true shape. We have * The Family Library. No. XVI. Witchcraft. By Sir Walter Scott, Bart. Letters on Demonology and |