degree with him. Would to Heaven I could get out of this net as easily as I ran into it! I always put the cart before the horse-action before thought."

With such meditations the time passed heavily; and Herbert took refuge in Rose's advice, and threw himself on the bed within the closely-drawn curtains.

We hope our sentimental readers will not abandon him, when we confess that he soon fell into a profound sleep, from which he did not awaken for several hours. They must be agitating griefs that overcome the strong tendencies of a vigorous constitution to eating and sleeping. And besides, it must be remembered in Herbert's favour, that the preceding night had been one long fatiguing vigil. Kind nature, pardon us for apologising for thy gracious ministry.

CHAPTER XV.

L'habitude de vivre ensemble fit naître les plus doux sentimens qui soient connus des hommes.-ROUSSEAU.

HERBERT's sleep was troubled with fragments and startling combinations of his waking thoughts. At one moment he was at Westbrook, making love to Bessie, who seemed to be deaf to him, and intently reading a letter in Jasper Meredith's hand; while Helen Ruthven stood behind her, beckoning to Herbert with her most seductive smile, which he fancied he was not to be deluded by. Suddenly the scene

changed--he had a rope round his neck, and was mounting a scaffold, surrounded by a crowd, where he saw Washington, Eliot, his father, mother, and Isabella - all unconcerned spectators. Then, as is often the case, a real sound shaped the unreal vision. He witnessed his own funeral obsequies, and heard his father reading the burial service over him. By degrees, sleep loosened the chain that bound his fancy, and the actual sounds became distinct. He awoke: a candle was burning on the table, and he heard his father in an adjoining apartment, to which it had always been his habit to retire for his evening devotions. He heard him repeat the formula prescribed by the church, and then his voice, tremulous with the feeling that gushed from his heart, broke forth in an extempore appeal to Him who holds all hearts in the hollow of his hand. He prayed

him to visit with his grace his wandering son; and to incline him to turn away from feeding on husks with swine, and bring him home to his father's house-to his duty-to his God. "If it please thee," he said, "humble thy servant in any other form-send poverty, sickness, desertion, but restore my only and wellbeloved boy; wipe out the stain of rebellion from my name. If this may not be, if still thy servant must go sorrowing for the departed glory of his house, keep him steadfast in duty, so that he swerve not, even for his son, his only son."

The prayer finished, his door was opened, and he saw his father enter without daring himself to move. Mr. Linwood looked at the candle, glanced his eye around the room, and then sat down at the table, saying, as if in

explanation, "Belle has been here." He covered

.

his face with both his hands, and murmured in a broken voice, "Oh, Herbert, was it to these bitter hours that I watched over

store up your childhood-that I came every night here, when you were sleeping, to kiss you and pray over your pillow?-what fools we are! we knit the love of our children with our very heartstrings-we tend on them-we pamper them we blend our lives with theirs, and then we are deserted-forgotten!

"Never, never for one moment!" cried Herbert, who with one spring was at his father's feet. Mr. Linwood started from him, and then, obeying the impulse of nature, he received his son's embrace, and they wept in one another's

arms.

The door softly opened. Isabella appeared, and her face irradiating with most joyful surprise, she called, "Mamma, mamma; here,