and whenever he muttered to himself, "I hate the name of Jesus of Nazareth!" the infant's words seemed whispered again, "Jesus loves those who hate him."

Iona's quiet resting-place and Staffa's cathedral cave were both visited. The sky continued almost cloudless, and reflected its bright blue in the clear waters beneath. The shores of Mull looked very desolate; but as the steamer rounded its northern coast, the magnificent confusion of the mountains of Morven, and the hills of Ardnamurchan, burst upon their gaze, and showed the grandeur of their bleak and lofty outline. It was a voyage during which the thoughtful mind might, in Nature's volume, read many lessons.

"Rowly, what are you doing?" said Ethelda, who had been standing for some time unperceived beside her brother.

"Oh, Ethie! is that you?" said Rowland, starting. "I was thinking of Hubert's idea about the happy sea-birds -jotting down a sort of Ode to the Sea-gull.' I wish, though, I could write some poetry contrasting Staffa and Iona."

"Let me see what you have written, Rowly;" and Rowland, rather reluctantly, gave her his pocket-book, where she deciphered the following lines:

"The tempest is o'er, there reigns now a lull;
Return to the main, thou happy sea-gull :

In its azure deep thy white bosom lave,-
Bright bird of the ocean, float o'er the wave!

Bright beams the sun in the sapphire sky,
Sparkle the billows like starlight on high,

No heat of its fierce, ris'n ray, need'st thou brave,-
Bright bird of the ocean, plunge 'neath the wave!

The cloud may be low'ring, thou need'st not fear,
O happy sea-gull! thy refuge is near;
No storm can approach in thy rocky cave,—
Bright bird of the ocean, fly o'er the wave!

O happy sea-gull! thy shrill carol sound,
Mid the roar of the ocean echoing round,
Raise thy wild song in Staffa's grand cave,
Join the bass roll of the loud, pealing wave."

"I should like to keep this, Rowly boy," said his sister. "But now tell me, how were you contrasting Staffa and Iona?"

"I thought of Iona's Cathedral, man's work, in ruins, and then of Staffa's Cathedral, God's work, altogether untouched, firm as in the ancient days."

"I like that contrast. And what further musings, my brother?

"I was thinking of Iona, once a bright star in a dark night, but now that day has dawned, lost in its brightness : or, in a more homely way, we might liken it to the torch that is used to lighten many candles, and having done its work becomes extinct. Then, Ethie, I thought, whether I should be content to be useful in my day and generation, and then to fall asleep."

"But that contentment is not required, Rowly. Falling asleep, even in Jesus, is not the end of our existenceis not the object of the Christian's hope. You compare Iona justly to the star lost in the dawn of morning, but that star still shines, though its light is no longer needed upon earth. I always like to think of the Sunday rather than of the Sabbath, of the waking up in Christ's likeness rather than of the falling asleep."

"You are right, Ethie; there is something sad in death. It is dark unless we have the bright hope of the glorious resurrection."

Salome joined the brother and sister, and they continued the conversation. Her thoughts were often on this subject, for she felt that death had already laid its touch on her. The hectic fever of the day, and the cold perspirations of the night, were rapidly consuming her little strength, but she now knew in whom she believed, and she rejoiced. She delighted to trust in Him, who declared Himself "the Resurrection and the Life," and to repeat the assurance, “Because He lives I shall live also." As they talked, the vessel was again approaching the peaceful Bay of Oban, and the sun was once more bathing itself gloriously in the Western Ocean. The land round the bay was already in the shade, and its deep violet tinge contrasted with the rosy light that yet beamed on the heights of Ben Cruachan.

"The highest hills have most of the sun's bright rays," said Ethelda.

"And the nearer to God the more of Jesu's presence,"

replied Salome, who, though weak in herself, was rapidly mounting from height to height, discovering new beauties in the Saviour, and feeling daily that the things of earth were passing away. "The morning soon shall break, and the sun that never sets shall rise."

Soon the Christian and the Israelite families parted, with little prospect of meeting again on earth. Yet there were some amongst them who trusted that they might all be citizens of the New Jerusalem, and, crowned by the King of glory on His holy hill of Zion, might humbly cast their crowns at the Saviour's feet, and hail him, "Lord of all."

A FEW weeks passed away, and the tourists were severally ensconced in winter quarters. Mrs. Maitland had rejoined her husband in her southern home; Rowland had commenced his college career; Gertrude was again in London; old Mr. Alleyne was enjoying the luxury of his well-furnished library; Ethelda delighting in the instruction of little Harry, or engaged in visiting the sand-huts and neighbouring cottages; whilst Sir Claude planned with Edward the colporteur many schemes for benefiting the ignorant peasantry around. He, who had once wondered that those who believed the Bible did not earnestly disseminate its doctrines, having been himself persuaded of the truth as it is in Jesus,

"Longed to tell to all around,

What a blest Saviour he had found."