and which was now made in spite of Rebecca's presence. It cannot be denied, in deference to the opinion of some very fastidious ladies, that Jane was prepared for it; for though the marks of love are not quite as obvious, as the lively Rosalind describes them, yet we believe that, except in the case of very wary lovers-cautious veterans-they are first observed by the objects of the passion.

We are warned from attempting to describe the scene to which our little pioneer had led the way, by the fine remark of a sentimentalist, who compares the language of lovers to the most delicate fruits of a warm climate-very delicious where they grow, but not capable of transportation.

The result of the interview was perfectly satisfactory to both parties; and as this was one of the occasions when all the sands of time are "diamond sparks," it is impossible to say when it would have come to a conclusion, had it not been for little Rebecca, who seemed to preside over the destinies of that day.

Her father had interpreted his conversation with Jane to his child, and had succeeded in rendering the object and the result of it level to her comprehension, and she had lavished her joy in loud exclamations and tender caresses; till finding she was no longer noticed, she had withdrawn to a window, and was amusing herself with gazing at the passengers in the street, when she suddenly turned to Jane, and raising the window at the same moment, she said, "Oh, there goes Mary to lecture, may I call her and tell her ?"

At this moment the sweet child might have asked any thing without the chance of a refusal, and ready assent was no sooner granted, than she screamed and beckoned to Mary, who immediately obeyed the summons.

Mary entered, and Rebecca closing the door after her,

said, "I guess thee will not want to go to lecture to-day, Mary, for I have a most beautiful secret to tell thee; hold down thy ear, and promise never to tell as long as thy name is Mary Hull;" and then, unable any longer to subdue her voice to a whisper, she jumped up and clapped her hands, and shouted, "Joy, joy, joy! Mary, Jane Elton is coming to live with us all the days of her life, and is going to be my own mother."

Mary looked to Mr. Lloyd, and then to Jane, and read in their faces the confirmation of the happy tidings; and to Rebecca's utter amazement, the tears streamed from her eyes. "Oh, Mary!" said she, turning disappointed away, 66 now I am ashamed of thee, I thought thee would be as glad as I am."

But Mr. Lloyd and Jane knew how to understand this expression of her feelings; they advanced to her and gave her their hands; she joined them: "the Lord hath heard my prayer," she said.

"I thank thee, Mary," replied Mr. Lloyd; "God grant I may deserve thy confidence."

"If she has prayed for it, what then does she cry for ?" said Rebecca, who stood beside her father, watching Mary's inexplicable emotion, and vainly trying to get some clue to it.

"Come with me, my child, and I will tell thee," replied her father, and he very discreetly led out the child, and left Jane with her faithful friend.

The moment he had closed the door, Mary said, smiling through her tears of joy, "It has taken me by surprise at last, but for all that I am not quite so blind as you may think. Do you remember, Jane, telling me one day when you laid your book down to listen to Mr. Lloyd, who was

talking to Rebecca, that since your mother's voice had been silent, you had never heard one so sweet as Mr. Lloyd's. I thought to myself then you seemed to feel just as I do when. I hear the sound of James's voice; not that I mean to compare myself to you, or James to Mr. Lloyd, but it is the nature of the feeling-it is the same in the high and the low, the rich and the poor."

"Was that all the ground of your suspicion ?" asked Jane, smiling at her friend's boasted sagacity.

"No, not quite all; James has been very impatient for our marriage; and from time to time I have told Mr. Lloyd I wished he would look out for some one to take charge of his house, and I advised him not to get a very young person, for, says I, they are apt to be flighty. I never saw one that was not, but Jane Elton. He smiled and blushed, and asked me what made me think that you were so much above the rest of your sex, and so I told him, and he never seemed to weary with talking about you."

"I am rejoiced,” replied Jane, "that your partiality to me reconciles you to the disparity in our ages."

“Oh, that is nothing; that is, in your case it is nothing. Let us see, eleven years. In most cases it would be too much, to be sure; there is just four years between James and I, that is just right, I think; and then, dear Jane, you are so different m other people, you need not go by com

mon rules."

The overflowing of Mary's heart was checked by the entrance of some company. As she parted with Jane, she whispered, "I shall not think of leaving Mr. Lloyd till you are married, be it sooner or later; when I see you in your own home, it will be time enough to think of my affairs."

There still remained a delicate point to adjust: Mr.

Lloyd had been brought up a Quaker, and he had seen no reason to depart from the faith or mode of worship which had come down to him from his ancestors, and for which he felt on that account (as who does not?) an attachment and veneration. He rarely, if ever, entered into discussion upon religious subjects, and probably did not feel much zeal for some of the peculiarities of his sect. He was not disposed to question their utility in their ordinary operation upon common character. He knew how salutary were the restraints of discipline upon the mass of men, and he considered the discipline of habits and opinions infinitely more salutary than the direct and coarse interference of power. He perceived, or thought he perceived, that as a body of men, the "Friends" were upon the whole more happy and prosperous than any other. No litigious contentions ever came among them. This circumstance Mr. Lloyd ascribed in a considerable degree to the uniformity of their opinions, habits, and lives, and to their custom of restricting their family alliances within the limits of their own sect. Mr. Lloyd regarded with complacency most of the characteristics of his own religious society; and those which he could not wholly approve, he was yet disposed to regard in the most favourable light; but he was no sectarian: his understanding was too much elevated, and his affections were too diffused to be confined within the bounds of sect. Such ties could not bind such a spirit. If any sectarian peculiarities had interfered to restrain him in the exercise of his duty, or while acting under the strong impulses of his generous nature, he would have shaken them off "like dew-drops from a lion's mane." Exclusion from the society would have been painful to him for many reasons, but the fear of it could not occasion a moment's hesitation in his offering his hand to a woman whom

he loved and valued, and whose whole life he saw animated by the essential spirit of Christianity. He determined now to inform his society of his choice, and to submit to the censure and exclusion from membership that must follow. But Mr. Lloyd was saved the painful necessity of breaking ties which were so strong that they might be called natural bonds.

Jane had been early led to inquire into the particular modification of religion professed by her benefactor, and respect for him had probably lent additional weight to every argument in its favour. This was natural; and it was natural too, that after her matured judgment sanctioned her early preference, she should from motives of delicacy have hesitated to declare it. If it cannot be denied that this proselyte was won by the virtues of Mr. Lloyd, it is to be presumed that no Christian will deny the rightful power of such an argument.

If the reader is not disposed to allow that Jane's choice of the religion of her friend was the result of the purity and simplicity of her character, the preference she always gave to the spirit over the letter, to the practice over the profession, she must call to her aid the decision of the poet, who says that

"Minds are for sects of various kinds decreed,

As different soils are formed for different seed."

Not a word had passed between Mr. Lloyd and Jane on the subject of the mental deliberations and resolves of each, when a few days after their engagement, Jane said to him, "I have a mind to improve the fatal hint of my little mischievous friend, and see how becoming I can make a “Quaker cap."