CHAP. IV. "I looked, and there beheld NOON was now approaching, and still the sun was walking in brightness through the firmament. The thunder which had reached us in deep reverberations from behind the mountains had passed away, and its voice was heard no more. Every hill and dale was silent, basking, as it were, a present moment in the effulgence of the cloudless beam. The lake, too, was hushed, and scarce a dimple moved over its quiescent bosom. Some light skiff, perchance, swept along beneath us, bounding over the liquid depth, impelled by the sinewy arm and well-managed oar. Afar, indeed, the cataract was roaring; but not as the sound of many waters did it break upon our ears. Its fall was mellowed by distance, and its rush only murmured through the else undisturbed tranquillity that reigned arouud. The little tenants of the woodlands were beginning to retire to their leafy bowers, from the noon-tide heats. Their matin songs had ceased. Their incense had gone up with the general chorus of nature, and had been accepted on high, what time the sun went forth of his chamber to run his diurnal race. The busy hum of the children of men-though, withdrawn from human intercourse, happily we caught it not-was spreading wide the clash of interests, each one, alas! seeking his own, and not his fellow's weal; unmindful of the beneficent injunction, "Love thy neighbour as thyself." As we rose to continue our way, my friend proceeded. "The season of my departure had at length arrived. It had pleased the gracious Dispenser of our innumerable mercies to restore me to a tolerable portion of health, and I was anxious once more to return to that partof the vineyard where my Master had appointed my lot. The duties of my vocation, as a minister of the welcome tidings, had attractions for me which I could no longer resist. Ever dear to my mind they were, and nothing but the most imperious necessity could have prevailed on me to abandon them, even for the limited period during which my physicians had recommended me repose. My residence amid these enchanting wilds had been remarkably blest, and I was so far reinstated in my usual vigour, that I could no more consider myself authorized in leading the life of comparative indolence in which I here indulged. Relaxation, indeed, did appear requisite ; but with the removal of the occasion of it, my heart began anew to burn within me, and I longed again to revisit the few sheep I had fed in the wilderness. "I had now taken leave of every cabin in the vicinity, on mountain or lowland, where I had reason to believe my little labours had not been in vain, or where hope induced me to think that my presence would not be unacceptable for my Lord's sake-the cottage in the wood excepted. a fellow-labourer, who had a pastoral charge assigned him in the canton of Zurich, came from some distance to bid me adieu, perhaps a last adieu on earth. He was a man whom I highly valued. Zealously affected to the cause in which he had devoted his being, his eminent talents had been indeed efficiently employed. Watered with the dews of heaven, and fostered with the choicest blessings from above, he had seen a little flock grow up beneath his care. Meanwhile, however, Το it, his time and thoughts were given; and he seemed not to have a wish beyond the green pastures where it reposed, and the still waters besides which he led its steps. His work was righteousness and his paths were peace; and sincerely did I love him as one of the redeemed of Him I served. But if we were permitted to spend a few fleeting moments together--and O how we felt the transient nature of all sublunary joy in their rapid lapse!-the hour arrived which was to behold us part. Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus, "Pleasant was the morning of that day. Without a cloud had it risen upon the hills, tinging their snowy summits with a rich vermilion dye. The winds * But thus while trace we each delightful scene, |