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Corah, greatly alarmed, gave Miriam the medicine which was to be administered to her on waking; while she tried to believe that under a strong mental excitation the invalid felt worse than she really was, and therefore would not summon Imlah until she was somewhat more composed. Miriam drank the mixture, but still seemed absorbed in thoughts of deeper interest than her own sufferings. Corah," said she vehemently, "where is my dear father? Go, bid him come to me this moment, this very moment! I must not die with such a stain upon my soul." Corah immediately rang the bell, and in an instant Imlah was at the bedside of Miriam. It was a touching sight to witness the meeting of that tender father with his awakened child, after a sleep which had appeared to him like an absence of ages; and when he saw her countenance irradiated by smiles of recognition,-flushed with the false bloom of hectic beauty, he fondly dared believe that all his hopes were, at that moment, realized. And well he might have thought so, for Miriam looked not like a victim of impending death. Supported by pillows, she lay in an almost upright posture, with no other covering over her shoulders than a large Turkish shawl, which her father had laid over her when sleeping.

Greatly oppressed, she had thrown off her cap, and her fine hair now hang carelessly about her neck, partly concealing her face, the expression of which was almost angelic; for animated with the enthusiasm of her lofty mind,—the desire of evincing the happy influences of christian hope, and the devotional feelings of pious submission; gentleness and beauty combined to throw a peculiar lustre over the whole aspect of the young Jewess. She sweetly smiled as her father raised her head from the pillow to his bosom: but Imlah started, and shrank back with an alarm which he could ill conceal, when her hand fell upon his own; for had it been of coldest marble, its touch could not have been more chilling. Miriam saw the disappointment of her father, but attempting not to check it, only said with much composure, "Never mind the coldness of my hand, dearest father, my heart still loves you as warmly, as when first it learned to know the value of your kindness; and yet, warm as it is, it knows not how to thank you for all your love-your tendernessyour care!"

"Miriam! my precious child," replied Imlah, "let no thanks fall on love and kindness mutually bestowed. If I indeed have been the light of your young path, you have been to me as the one bright star which has ever led my thoughts from gloom to joy-from despair to hope." And may I be enabled to do it yet more perfectly, my father," exclaimed Miriam fervently, the color changing on her cheek, "life will then be precious which has been spared for such a mission."

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"Jehovah grant it!" said Imlah, not aware of his daughter's meaning, for mine would be a dark blank without the smiles of my sweet child." "Not so, my father, if you found one to fill that blank, whose love throws sunshine even on sorrow."

Imlah sighed, but made no reply; and Miriam, after a moment's silence, looking earnestly at him, as she still lay supported on his bosom, asked with a mild but peculiar emphasis, Dearest father, do you love me?"

"Love you!" exclaimed Imlah, surprised, and pressing her stil ser to his heart; "love you, Miriam!-If ever parental affe warmed the heart of man, it has kindled in mine such love for you angels might ask their sister saints to give for it is love which lends earth a light for me, and leads my stricken soul to raise a 90 ful song to heaven, when many a time, but for the boon it give you, I could speak bitterly of fate, and curse the life which he spares me."

B

Miriam turned pale, and with great solemnity replied, " And such love on earth, my father, is idolatry, and must in mercy be r asunder, lest its false light should lead you to eternal darkness. added she, raising herself and looking at her father with an expres never afterwards forgotten, "do you love me?-not for what I an you, but apart from yourself, could your love grant me que solemn quest; and solemnly fulfil it? Could it forgive the violence which request might do to the dearest feelings of your bosom?-and forget else, save the purpose for which it was asked, and her who asked it

Imlah felt alarmed, for although the voice of Miriam was calm, her countenance serene as a cloudless moonlight, he believed that mind wandered in some delirious phantasy; till suddenly recollecti the fatal alliance he had engaged her to fulfil, he beckoned Corah leave the room, and then replied, "Miriam, my beloved girl! pr against every test-my love could bear and suffer all, and far m than you could require. Then ask your boon; it shall be freely grant at whatever cost it claims; for, be assured any thing that can gi peace to you, brings happiness to me. But compose yourself now, n child, and we will talk of earthly cares, when health calls you back act in earthly schemes."

"I am composed, my father," replied Miriam," as one who, standin on the verge of eternity, looks only at eternal things. And now thank you tenderly for the boon you grant,-a boon for which alone have craved life and time." So saying, she drew from underneath he pillow a little testament, and laying it in Imlah's hands, then pressin them together with both her own, exclaimed, "Take that preciou book, my beloved father, and let it be your guide, your counsellor your comfort! May the Lord, in his infinite mercy, make the stum bling-block of Israel, your rock and your salvation; and while you read may his Holy Spirit teach you to believe-to revere-to receive And now, dear, precious parent, remembering the last solemn promise so sacredly pledged to your dying child, for your own sake--for hers,] beseech you, speak no more against Jesus of Nazareth!-the Redeeme of Israel, the Messiah,-the One and only Savior of all mankind!" Exhausted by the feelings and energy with which she uttered this solemn charge, Miriam fell back, and the cold dews of death hung on her pale face, as nature struggled with its last resistless conqueror. Imlah, who knelt by her side, his hand still grasping her sacred legacy, was motionless as herself, and felt as if he had lost all power of utterance and sense; while with a look, fixed with unspeakable anguish on his child, he uttered groans of agony, such as perhaps alone could have roused the departing spirit of Miriam back to earthly thoughts. She

opened her eyes once more, and laid her icy arm, for a moment, around her father's neck, in token that her last love was his then quietly rossing her hands upon her bosom, and looking up to heaven with a countenance brightened with a glow of holy fervour, she exclaimed, * Dearest father! look up-look up, from me, to Christ! and now, O blessed Jesus, do Thou come quickly." Again her head fell back, and with one long but gentle sigh, her happy spirit winged its flight to God! Imlah remained for some time appalled and motionless, gazing in fixed despair on the silent lips of his child, as if waiting again to hear their eloquence. But the dreadful stillness which now pervaded all around, where not one sound, one sigh, was heard to break that awful solitude, recalled him to a faint sense of what had been: and yet it was the disordered sense which fancy sometimes lends to picture dreams like real things; or to embody its own faint shadows into the frightful phantoms of insanity. Still did he look on Miriam, and still grasped the ittle volume which he knew was associated with her last words. But what were those words? The avowal of an apostate! And yet was that heavenly smile, which gave even death a semblance of peace-one of apostasy? Could a guilty heretic meet the awful judgment of an fended God, as Miriam had done? Miriam an apostate !-a heretic! O no! rather let christianity be true, and Israel fall at last beneath the Scourge of christian victory,--than Miriam, the last daughter of David's line, be so accursed!' pp. 282-238.

After the burial of Miriam, conducted according to her request by Mr. Howard, and in the glen which had been her favorite scene, Imlah retires within himself, and devotes his time and attention to the study of the gospel.

He

The grotto, once the favorite retreat of his departed Miriam, was the spot where, heedless of cold, or loneliness, his days were generally dreamt away. The little testament she had given him with her dying breath, was now become the last sad memorial of her wishes. read it at first indeed with cold incredulity; but "remembering his last solemn promise, so sacredly pledged" to his child, he did read it; and without that angry disdain as once he felt, for Miriam had loved that book, and he dared not despise it. It was replete too with notes which she had inserted, evidently with a view to impress her father's mind with the feelings excited in her own heart by the perusal of that blessed revelation, and while he fondly gazed upon her writing-all that was now left him of herself-it seemed as if she addressed him from the grave, and an unutterable awe fixed his mind. This led further; and while in fervent prayer he entreated God to comfort and to guide him, He, who ever stands over the broken-hearted, shed forth his beams of mercy to enlighten the mind of that dark unbeliever, and Imlah at length meekly confessed that Miriam's God was the Lord!' p. 292.

The consequence is, that after an interview with Mr. Howard, he is baptized, receives the sacrament, and prepares to quit England as a christian missionary, to preach and to teach that very gospel which he had once denied and reviled.

The evening previously to quitting Fernhill, Imlah walked to G cairn to bid farewell to Mrs. Stuart and her family, whom he affectionately called his friends. Mr. Howard was there, and since united in the general regret evinced on the prospect of such a separat It was a solemn parting, for each one felt that meeting was proba their last on earth. Remembrances too of Miriam weighed heavily every heart, but she was happy, and none dared wish her from saintly home. * * * * * * Imlah turned to watch the last of Howard, then slowly ascended the path leading to the churchyard.

It was a calm night, and not a cloud was seen in heaven to dim moonbeams which fell in softest radiance on the sloping earth, wh mouldered the remains of so many departed beings. Partially sha by the overhanging branches of a lofty sycamore, the lowly grave Miriam lay amidst the records of mortality, marked by no other mo ment than a cross of whitest marble, which, placed at her head, b the inscription of her name and age, with this simple motto: " Jesus' cross be Miriam's crown," a device which she had herself propriated as an acknowledgment of her entire accedence to the ch tian faith.

Here Imlah knelt and sobbed aloud beside the narrow grave; and though with humble submission he felt and owned the mercy of his heave Father, yet nature for a moment mastered his better feelings, and he cal in loud and piteous accents on his child, as if his cry could surely w her from her long last sleep." But the faint murmurs of the rippl stream which glided along the bank beneath, alone answered his lame All else remained serene and calm; and seemed, in the peacefuln of that refulgent moonlight, to mock the passing sorrows of manki Imlah poured out his very soul in the agony of that moment, a longer had he perhaps complained, had not the dying words of sainted Miriam rushed forcibly through his mind, and checked the 1 terness of grief; like a sudden spell re-awakening the pious purpose his chastened soul, which that agony had well-nigh destroyed, "Y my sweet child," he exclaimed, "I will look up, and thank God t thou art there!-and may the blessed Jesus indeed comfort and supp me, even as he has redeemed thee." Imlah now calmly raised hands to heaven, and in a solemn ejaculation devoted himself entir to the Lord, fervently imploring divine strength to aid his own w surrender, that he might continue steadfast in the faith and cause of rael's Messiah!-He then arose, and as a warrior takes his last le of home before approaching battle, did Imlah once more look back the grave where all he loved was left, and immediately hastened fr the glen. Nor did aught else arrest him until he reached Fern where he retired to his own room, and feeling that he had now d with earth, he calmly awaited for the morrow, when at sunrise, w Corah and a few faithful adherents, he left his splendid home for as much regretted, as he had once been feared.' pp. 296-298.

THE

QUARTERLY

CHRISTIAN SPECTATOR.

VOLUME VI.-NUMBER II.

JUNE, 1833.

ART. I.-SPIRIT AND INFLUENCE OF THE REFORMATION.

An Essay on the Spirit and Influence of the Reformation; a work which obtained the prize on the following question, proposed by the National Institute of France: "What has been the influence of the Reformation by Luther on the political situ stum of the different States of Europe, and on the progress of knowledge?" Br C. VILLERS, some time Professor of Philosophy in the University of Gottingen. Translated from the French; with an Introductory Essay by SAMUEL MILLER, D. D., Professor in the Theological Seminary at Princeton, N. J. Philadelphia: Key & Biddle, 23 Minor Street. 1833.

THE present efforts, and to an alarming extent the success of the Romish church in this country, render every thing which throws light upon its history and influence, deeply interesting to the American christian and patriot. The long declining power of popery in Europe, and the expiring hope of any favorable conjuncture of circumstances which shall give to its sinking fortunes a new impulse on that continent, have induced its votaries to turn their attention to this country, and to put forth their excited and systematic efforts with almost primitive zeal, to diffuse the baneful influence of its principles over our free republic. The ruin which the late revolution in France has brought upon the Romish church in that kingdom, the commotions in Spain and Portugal, and the heavings of an unquiet population in Italy itself, admonish the boasted successors of St. Peter of the urgent necessity of propping up their sinking cause by gaining proselytes in foreign lands.

The jealous eye with which the most despotic nations of Europe have regarded the example of our free institutions, and the increasing insecurity and alarm which they have felt as they have watched the progressive influence of our prosperity, have long since resulted in a fixed and settled hostility to all the distinctive principles of our popular form of government. Nothing but a favorable opportunity and a plausible pretext is wanting to bring this hostility into open action. Some of those governments in which the RoVOL. VI.

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