Chapter V.

There is something in the season of Spring which peculiarly excites the feelings of devotion. The dreariness of winter has passed, and with it, the deadened affections of our nature. New life, new vigour, arises within us, as we walk abroad and feel the genial gales of April breathe upon us; and our hopes--our wishes, awaken with the revival of the vegetable world. It is then that the heart, which has been impressed with the goodness of the Creator, feels that goodness brought, as it were, in very contact with our senses. The eye loves to wander over the bountiful provisions nature is throwing forth in every direction for our comfort; and fixing its gaze on the clouds, which having lost the chilling thinness of winter, roll in rich volumes, amidst the clear and softened fields of azure so peculiar to the season, and leads the mind insensibly to dwell on the things of another and a better world. It was on such a day, the inhabitants of B-- thronged toward the village church, for the double purpose of pouring out their thanksgivings, and of hearing the first efforts of their rector's child, in the duties of his sacred calling.

Amongst the crowd, whom curiosity or a better feeling had drawn forth, were to be seen the modern equipages of the Jarvises,and the handsome carriages of Sir Edward Moseley and his sister. All the members of this latter family felt a lively anxiety for the success of the young divine.

But knowing, as they well did, the strength of his native talents, the excellency of his education, and the fervour of his piety, it was an anxiety that partook more of hope than of fear. There was one heart, however, amongst them, that palpitated with an emotion that hardly admitted of control, as they approached the sacred edifice, and which had identified itself with the welfare of the rector's son. There never was a softer, truer heart, than that which now almost audibly beat within the bosom of Clara Moseley; and she had given it to the young divine with all its purity and truth.

The entrance of a congregation into the sanctuary will at all times furnish, to an attentive observer, food for much useful speculation, if it he chastened with a proper charity for the weaknesses of others; and most people are ignorant of the insight they are giving into their characters and

dispositions, by such an apparently trivial circumstance as their weekly approach to the tabernacles of the Lord. Christianity, while it chasteneth and amends the heart, leaves the natural powers unaltered; and it cannot be doubted, that its operation is, or ought to be, proportionate to the abilities and opportunities of the subject of its holy impression--"untowhomsoever much is given, much will be required." And at the same time we acknowledge, that the thoughts might be better employed in preparing for those humiliations of the spirit and thanksgiving of the heart, which are required of all, and are so necessary to all; we must be indulged in a hasty view of some of the personages of our history, as they entered the church of B--. On the countenance of the baronet, was the dignity and composure of a mind at peace with itself and mankind. His step was rather more deliberate than common; his eye rested on the pavement, and on turning into his pew, as he prepared to kneel, in the first humble petition of our beautiful service, he raised it towards the altar, with an expression of benevolence and reverence, that spoke contentment, not unmixed with faith.

In the demeanour of Lady Moseley, all was graceful and decent, although nothing could be said to be studied. She followed her husband with a step of equal deliberation, that was slightly varied by an observance of a manner which appeared natural to herself, but might have been artificial to another: her cambric handkerchief concealed her face as she sunk composedly by the side of Sir Edward, in a style which showed, that while she remembered her Maker, she had not entirely forgotten herself.

The walk of Mrs. Wilson was quicker than that of her sister. Her eye directedbefore her, fixed, as if in settled gaze, on that eternity to which she was approaching. The lines of her contemplative face were unaltered, unless there might be traced a deeper shade of humility than was ordinarily seen on her pale, but expressive countenance: her petition was long; and on rising from her humble posture, the person was indeed to be seen, but the soul appeared absorbed in contemplations far beyond the limits of this sphere.

There was a restlessness and varying of colour, in the ordinarily placid Clara, which prevented a display of her usual manner; while Jane walked gracefully, and with a tincture of her mother's form, by her side. She stole one hastily withdrawn glance to the deanery pew ere she kneeled, and then, on rising, handed her smelling bottle affectionately to her elder sister.

Emily glided behind her companions with a face beaming with a look of innocence and love. As she sunk in the act of supplication, the rich glow of her healthful cheek lost some of its brilliancy; but, on rising, it beamed with a renewed lustre, that plainly indicated a heart sensibly touched with the sanctity of its situation.

In the composed and sedate manner of Mr. Jarvis, as he steadily pursued his way to the pew of Sir William Harris, you might have been justified in expecting the entrance of another Sir Edward Moseley in substance, ifnot in externals; but his deliberate separation of the flaps of his coat, as he comfortably seated himself, when you thought him about to kneel, and followed by a pinch of snuff, as he threw his eye around in examination of the building, led you at once to conjecture, that what at first you had mistaken for reverence, was the abstraction of some earthly calculation; and that his attendance was in compliance with custom, and not a little depended upon the thickness of his cushions, and the room he found for the disposition of his unwieldy legs.

The ladies of the family followed, in garments carefully selected for the advantageous display of their persons. As they sailed into their seats, where it would seem the improvidence of Sir William's steward had neglected some important accommodation, (for some time was spent in preparation to be seated,) the old lady, whose size and flesh really put kneeling out of the question, bent forward for a moment at an angle of eighty with the horizon, while her daughters prettily bowed their heads, with all proper precaution for the safety of their superb millinery.

At length the rector, accompanied by his son, appeared from the vestry.

There was a dignity and solemnity in the manner in which this pious divine entered on the duties of his profession, which struck forcibly on the imaginations of those who witnessed it, and disposed the heart to listen, with reverenceand humility, to precepts that flowed from so impressive an exterior. The stillness of expectation pervaded the church; when the pew opener led the way to the same interesting father and son, whose entrance had interrupted the guests the preceding day at the rectory. Every eye was turned on the emaciated parent, bending into the grave, and, as it were, kept from it by the supporting tenderness of his child. Hastily throwing open the door of her pew, Mrs. Ives buried her face in her handkerchief; and her husband had proceeded far in the morning service, before she raised it again to the view of the congregation. In the voice of the rector, there was an

unusual softness and tremor, that his people attributed to the feelings of a father, about to witness the first efforts of an only child in his arduous duties, but which in reality were owing to another and a deeper cause.

Prayers were ended, and the younger Ives ascended the pulpit; for a moment he paused --and casting one anxious glance to the pew of the baronet, he commenced his sermon. He had chosen for his discourse the necessity of placing our dependence on divine grace for happiness here or hereafter. After having learnedly, but in the most unaffected manner, displayed the necessity of this dependence, as affording security against the evils of this life, he proceeded to paint the hope, the resignation, the felicity of a christian's death-bed.Warmed by the subject, his animation had given a heightened interest to his language; and at a moment, when all around him were entranced by the eloquence of the youthful divine, a sudden and deep-drawn sigh drew every eye to the rector's pew. The younger stranger sat motionless as a statue, holding in his arms the lifeless body of his parent, who had fallen that moment a corpse by his side. All was now confusion: the almost insensible young man was relieved from his burthen; and, led by the rector, they left the church. The congregation dispersed in silence, or assembled in little groups, to converse on the awful event they had witnessed. None knew the deceased; he was the rector's friend, and to his residence the body had been removed. The young man was evidently his child; but here all information ended. They had arrived in a private chaise, but with post horses, and without attendants. Their arrival at the parsonage was detailed, with a few exaggerations, by the Jarvis ladies, that gave additional interest to the whole event; and which, by creating an impression with those, gentler feelings would not have restrained, there was something of mystery about them; prevented many distressing questions to the Ives', that the baronet's family forbore putting on the score of delicacy. The body left B-- at the close of the week, accompanied by Francis Ives and the unwearied attentions of the interesting son. The doctor andhis wife went into deep mourning, and Clara received a short note from her lover, on the morning of their departure, acquainting her with his intended absence for a month, but throwing no light upon the affair. The London papers, however, contained the following obituary notice, and which, as it could refer to no other, was universally supposed to allude to the rector's friend.

"Died, suddenly, at B--, on the 20th instant, George Denbigh, Esq.

aged 63."