particular class: I firmly believe it of every child of Adam, whose days are numbered and ended before "they, by reason of use, have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil." I do not suppose that an early death brings them necessarily within the bonds of the covenant: but I do believe that, being chosen in Christ, along with others, before the foundation of the world, these infants are mercifully spared the stern conflict awaiting those who are brought up for the church militant; they are caught away to swell the countless multitude of the church triumphant. In this contemplation, I see, as it were, unnumbered victims continually rescued from the grasp of Satan, in those regions of the earth whose inhabitants sit in darkness and in the shadow of death and I rejoice, that in no quarter of this magnificent globe is his empire perfect; his power unresisted; or the prey safe within his iron grasp. Such views must be, in a measure, speculative: but their foundation is the sure word of God, from which this sweet and soothing doctrine can very fairly be educed. My own mind is not troubled with a doubt upon the subject; and very few things does this visible world afford that draw from my heart such a full and fervent Hallelujah, as the tiny coffin, with its little white pall, carried, perhaps, under the arm of a sorrowful father, while the mother or sister steps bebind, in tears of natural grief. I can weep with them, for it is a sore trial to a parent's heart; but over the baby I do and must rejoice, with joy unspeakable and full of glory.

There is a little flower of exquisite delicacy, which springs up among the heath and rough grass, in uncultivated spots. Its form is that of a single bell,

closely resembling the Canterbury bell of our gardens, and its texture transparently fine. The stem rises perhaps two inches from the ground, and there, in the attitude of a snow-drop, depends this soft little eup, dissimilar in many respects from the well-known blue-bell of the heaths, and wearing the grey tint of its kindred autumnal sky, rather than the sprightly azure of summer. The aspect of this wild-flower is so infantine, so fragile, so ethereal, that we wonder to recognize it among the hardy heather and the rugged grasses where it usually dwells. We see it in our path one day; the next it is gone, leaving no perceptible vacancy among its thickly-spread neighbours, except to the eye of those who marked its lovely form unfolding to the bleak winds, and anticipated how short a sojourn such a thing of gossamer would make in such a clime.

I have loved this little flower from childhood, and have often stepped aside to avoid placing my foot upon its innocent looking head: but I never connected it, until very recently, with a living object. That association has, however, been formed; and fondly shall I henceforth welcome the pale, solitary blue-bell of the hills-it now typifies one of the loveliest and most touching links that connect this dark, rough world with the pure and shining habitations above.

They say that all babies are alike; it is not true: for, to one who observes them with the intense interest that they merit, there is, even among the newly-born, an endless, boundless variety. There is a trait of grandeur, proper to the offspring of our majestic race, while yet unconscious of the workings of inbred sin, that throws over them a general aspect peculiar to that privileged age; but it is like

the sun-beam upon a garden of dewy flowers-a general brilliancy sparkling over all, but by no means affecting their individuality of character. None of them have yet put on the external livery of Satan, though all are born in bondage to his yoke: but some have received the secret seal of adoption, and are passing onward to the kingdom of glory, never to know the defiling touch of the wicked one. Elect, according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, destined for an early entrance into the inheritance of the saints in light, born into visible existence, washed, sanctified, justified, by a process equally rapid, mysterious, and sublime, they pass before our eyes, and glide away to the bosom of their God.-Most happy, most privileged of all created beings, save only the angels who, having never fallen under the condemnation of disobedience, know not the drop of bitterness that extorts a cry from the new-born babe.

When I first saw the little one, who is now vividly present to my mind, she was closely nestled in her pillow, and I hardly caught a glimse of the features on which day-light had shone only for three weeks. From time to time, I was told of her singular loveli ness, but she had numbered five months before I was able to repeat my visit. Never shall I forget the feelings that arose as I gazed upon that child. The aspect of perfect health, combined with strength and sprightliness even beyond her age, seemed fully to justify the sanguine anticipations of a devoted mother, that she should successfully rear the babe; but every look that I cast upon it, brought closer to my heart a conviction, such as I had never felt before, respecting any infant, that it could not be

formed for earth. It was not the exquisite loveliness of the child, the perfection of its features, the transparent brilliancy of its beautiful complexion, and the singular moulding of its delicate limbs, which any sculptor might have coveted to perpetuate in alabaster of kindred purity; it was not even the tranquil expression of its placid brow, not the soft smile that gently dimpled its little budding mouth, nor the assurance of its delighted mother, that so sweet and calm a temper she had never traced in any infant: No, it was a character spread over the babe, of something so pure, so holy, so far removed from weak and wayward mortality, that while I gazed on her my tears burst forth, partly from the irresistible conviction that I was looking upon a thing of heaven, and partly from the unavoidable association of those thoughts with a coming scene of maternal lamentation and woe.

Does any reader deem this a fanciful impression ? then I will relate the simple fact, that subsequent to the realization of my forebodings, I met a dear Christian friend who told me that, having about the same time seen the infant, she was so deeply struck by what I am vainly trying to describe, that she remarked to her husband, on leaving the house, how strong was her conviction that the stamp of heaven was upon it, and that it would be very early removed to its home. In reply, he expressed his surprise that her secret thoughts should have so exactly correspond with his own.

It may be asked, If in one case the image of heavenly things be visible on an infant about to be received into glory, why not in many-in all? I would reply, that among those who are taken

home after a more lengthened pilgrimage, we sometimes behold extraordinary foretastes of the joy set before them, which they are able to communicate to surrounding friends, who doubtless, with the church at large, experience much comfort and encouragement therefrom. They seem, indeed, to be granted for that purpose; and why should not a peculiar demonstration of indwelling grace be occasionally afforded, to the watchful eye of a tender mother, whose infant is about to be taken from her bosom; and to cheer, as it surely is calculated to do, the hearts of many mourning parents, who may be longing to accumulate proofs as to the actual manifestation of Christ's love to little babes, even in the flesh?

In this case, the Lord had emphatically lent the infant heirs of glory to parental care, and very early received them to his own kingdom. Is it too much to believe of Him whose name is "Love," and whose nature is " very pitiful," that under a reiterated blow upon the shrinking heart of a most fond young mother, he should vouchsafe an especial cordial? was it not a sharp trial to see five little coffins successively borne away from her door, leaving but two of her household flock over whom to watch and to tremble? Mothers, perhaps, can rightly answer this question. We do, most shamefully, limit the Holy One of Israel; and to Him alone is it known how many cups of heavenly consolation are dashed from our lips, because blind unbelief cannot discern them.

One trait that I remarked in the beautiful babe, was a peculiarly pensive softness that it was impossible to regard otherwise than as the meek and patient yearning of the soul after something that was