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proves that she has no religion at all, and deserves the utmost contempt of every well-thinking being."

The next day was the anniversary of the formation of the school; and it was distinguished by a yearly mass, instituted by Madame d'Elfort for the success of her establishment. This was certainly a mark of sincere, though mistaken, piety; yet, considering the doctrine inculcated by the Romish church on the subject of the mass, and its being declared to be a propitiatory sacrifice, Emily felt that there was something profane and shocking, in thus appropriating its supposed benefits to a matter so purely worldly. Madame d'Elfort, however, was accustomed to take all her pupils, Protestants as well as Papists, to the cathedral, on that important occasion, and it would have been thought a very bad compliment, if not an insult, to her, to have refused to attend. Emily, therefore, went with the others, and encé more witnessed the gorgeous pomp, and undisguised idolatry, of the mass. She was much gratified, however, to observe that none of the English pupils knelt, though some of those who were near the governess and teachers assumed an attitude, which might almost have been mistaken for kneeling.

The Tuesday was fixed for the departure of Mr. Howard and his family; and the same day Rose de Liancourt also bade farewell to Madame d'Elfort's establishment. She had not again mentioned the subject of Emily's conversation with the priest, and it was, therefore, probable, that Monsieur de Beauvais had declined the controversy. Emily felt glad that it was so, on her own account, though she could scarce help regretting it for the sake of Rose.

Many tears were shed on both sides, as the young friends sepa rated; but a frequent correspondence was agreed upon, and, as Mr. Howard would probably return that way, hopes were mutually indulged that they might meet again. Madame d'Elfort also made Emily promise to pay her a visit on their return, and they parted in the most affectionate manner. There was a noble sincerity, a lofty uprightness, a genuine sensibility, in that lady's character, which not only commanded respect, but were eminently calculated to insure the affection of every heart capable of appreciating those qualities of a high and generous mind. Yet it is certain that she was generally much more feared and respected, than loved by her pupils; and perhaps it was in consequence of this well-known circunstance, that she became so much attached to those few young persons, who, like Rose and Emily, had repaid her kindness with affectionate confidence. She was not a character to be regarded with indifference; and where she was loved at all, it was with a feeling almost amounting to enthusiasm.

It would be impossible to describe the sorrow and distress of

poor Helen, at the departure of her friends, and the prospect of being left without one serious companion of her own age. They, too, felt deeply for her; but Emily endeavored to make her "look unto Jesus, as the Author and Finisher of her faith," and entreated her to exercise more dependence upon Him, assuring her that "He would not suffer her to be tempted above that she was able;" but would make "His strength perfect" in her weakness, and " His grace sufficient for her," though she was deprived of earthly support.


My dearest Helen," said she, "be faithful to your Saviour, and He will never leave you, nor forsake you." Remember the promise, "In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy paths." Your example may do much among your companions, and it is your duty to promote their spiritual improvement, whenever you have an opportunity. There are still some of them welldisposed towards religion, and among them I should wish you to pay particular attention to Eliza Kaimes. She is a dear, interesting little girl, and she, as well as the others, will often look up to you for example and direction. Do not disappoint them, my dear Helen, but endeavor to be instrumental in bringing them to the fold of the Good Shepherd."

Poor Helen only wept, and reminded Emily that she had promised to write a few lines for her, which were to serve as a me mento of their endearing intercourse, and a record of Christian friendship, containing her parting advice. Emily had not forgotten it, and when she bade the gentle girl farewell, she put into her hand the following lines.


'Twas but lately I welcomed thy steps to the altar,

Where the "cup of salvation" is freely bestowed;
Saw the tear dim thine eye,-heard thy soft accents falter,
While approaching the table,-the feast of thy God.

Oh! then, while thy cheek wore the tinge of emotion,
With what feelings of grateful, of rapturous joy
Did I view the meek fervor, the heart-felt devotion,

That glowed in thy bosom, and beained from thine eye!

With what anxious delight have I watched the first breaking
Of the pure light of truth, as it dawned on thy mind;
Have I seen thy young spirit with earnestness seeking
That Saviour,--that God, whom to seek is to find.

Oh! 'twas sweet to my soul, as the first blush of morning,
Or the rose with its fragrance embalming the gale;
Or the dew-drops, like crystal, the hawthorn adorning,
Ere the rays of the sun all their freshness exhale.

Fairest bud of fair promise, in loneliness growing,

On thy leaf may the sweet dews of heaven distil!
May the rich stream of grace, through the wilderness flowing,
Adorn thee with beauty, and nourish thee still!

May the bright "Sun of Righteousness" shine on thy bosom,
With benignant effulgence arraying thy morn,
In the beauties of holiness cause thee to blossom,


And thy soul with the Spirit's mild graces adorn.

From the storm of distress, from the noon of temptation,
From the night-dews so deadly, that wither and fade,
Be the Saviour thy shield; be the "Rock of salvation"
Thy shelter,-thy refuge, almighty to aid.

Dearest girl! I must leave thee,--exposed to the dangers
Of a spot where religion must arm for the strife;
Where the snares of the world, and the gay voice of strangers
Will oft tempt thee to turn from the pathway of life.

Oh! beware of the perils,-the snares that surround thee!
Be humbie, be watchful, and fervently pray,
That the wings of the Highest may hover around thee,
Thy protection, thy safety, by night and by day.

Remember the vows of devoted surrender,

Thou didst make, at the feast of a crucified Lord;
Remember his love, so unbounded, so tender,

To the soul by His covenant mercy restored.

Oh! grieve not His Spirit!-the bond of that union
Which believers enjoy with the Fountain of love;
But live under His smile,-in endearing communion

With the "Father of lights," and the spirits above.

Dearest Helen, farewell!--while in sorrow I press thee
To a bosom that throbs with affection sincere,
My full heart melts in prayer to the God who can bless thee.
And preserve thee from evil, while sojourning here.

Farewell!--sometimes think on thy friend with affection;
Oh! be faithful to Jesus! be still on thy guard!
May his love be thy sure,-thy unfailing protection,
Thy portion in life,-thine eternal reward!



I know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livese and art done -Rev. iii. 1.

THE Cousins had not parted without tears, from a society in which they had lived for more than a twelvemonth; and with the exception of Miss Bradford, Miss Gordon, and one or two others,

they had received from all the English inmates of the establishment, the most unequivocal marks of affection, and sorrow at their departure. The French girls had also expressed their regret, except Clémentine Vermont; and if Mademoiselle St. André had seen them depart with ill-disguised pleasure, Mademoiselle Morhay had loudly declared her esteem for their characters. Caroline was almost inconsolable, at leaving her friend Sophie Dorville; Madame d'Elfort's last affectionate embrace, and the tears that stood in her eyes, had completely overcome Emily's assumed firmness, and the floods of tears with which Lydia had torn herself from the arms of the sobbing Helen, continued to flow long after they had lost sight of the town and its inhabitants.

This depression of spirits was not lessened, on observing tha Mr. Howard, instead of seeming better in health than when he arrived at S- was evidently worse, and much weaker than the last time they had seen him. They, therefore, exerted them. selves to amuse him; and, as they travelled on, the scenery through which they passed, and the different incidents connected with their journey, insensibly contributed to restore some degree of cheerfulness to the whole party.

On their arrival at Paris, Mr. Howard took his daughters and niece to see whatever was worth seeing in that gay capital; but his own health continued so alarmingly to decline, that the phy sicians he consulted recommended his hastening to Italy, and spending the ensuing winter in that genial climate. After a month's residence at Paris, therefore, he communicated to the young people the necessity for his departure, and his intention of either taking them back to Madame d'Elfort's, or placing them at any other school they might choose, till his return, when he would conduct Emily, Caroline and Lydia, back to England. This, he hoped, he would be sufficiently recovered to do the ensuing spring; but, as Emily looked at his pale countenance and wasted form, she could not suppress a sigh of painful foreboding. Caroline, too, seemed struck with apprehension, and earnestly begged that her father would allow her to accompany him. To this, however, he would not consent, observing, that, should sickness or death deprive her of his guidance and protection, it would be a source of misery to him, to think of her being left helpless and friendless in a distant land.

All the girls wept at this suggestion, but Mr. Howard requested them to lose no time in choosing the school where they might wish to be left. At this proposal, they all hesitated, though from various motives; but, when Caroline at length named Madame d'Elfort's, Emily and Lydia felt that it was time to speak candidly.


My dear uncle," said the former, "I have the most sincere esteem and affection for Madame d'Elfort, nor do I think we could

possibly be placed at a better school. But pardon me if I say, that, as a Protestant, I cannot wish to be again a resident in a Roman Catholic seminary, and that I am convinced it is highly dangerous to entrust young people to such tuition."

"Oh! yes, dear papa," "added Lydia, "it is indeed very, very dangerous! I can speak from my own experience of the fascinating influence of popery; and I am not the only one who has felt its ensnaring power."

66 But you must acknowledge," observed Caroline, rather indignantly," that our principles were never interfered with; and I certainly think, Emily and Lydia, that your arguments imply a want of confidence in the Protestant cause, for, if it cannot bear a comparison with its rival, it must be weak indeed."


"We do not doubt the power of truth, Caroline," replied Emily, "but we distrust our own hearts. The scripture says, Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall;' and, if we are directed to pray every day, ' Lead us not into temptation,' we have no right to rush into it of our own accord."

"Dear papa !" exclaimed Lydia, clasping her father's hand with energy, "do, pray, place us wherever you please, but let it be at a

Protestant school."

"Well, my dear children," said the indulgent father, "I will place you at whatever school you may choose; only endeavour to agree among yourselves, and let me know your decision tomorrow."

That very evening, Lydia sought and obtained a private interview with her father, before he retired to rest. In this conversation, she openly declared to him her fears on her sister's account, and the reasons which made her dread Caroline's further association with Roman Catholics. Mr Howard heard her with attention, and not without surprise, but expressed his incredulity of there being any sufficient ground for her apprehensions.


Nonsense, my love," exclaimed he, "your sisterly anxiety must have greatly magnified the danger. You cannot persuade me that Caroline can be so devoid of common sense, as to credit the absurdities of the Popish religion. She is attached to Mademoiselle Dorville, and that accounts for all that has caused your alarm. You are an enthusiast, my Lydia, and therefore a little visionary."

Lydia felt vexed and mortified at the indifference with which her father treated the subject; but she renewed her entreaties with persevering ardor, and at length, by her tears and importunities, succeeded in obtaining a promise that they should not be placed at a Roman Catholic school.

Mr. Howard fulfilled this promise, though against the wishes of Caroline; and she submitted to his decision, though evidently not without reluctance. Inquiries were made for a Protestant

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