liquor, the rolling of the ship, and the horrible language, I never passed through so miserable a season before. We lost poor Mrs. Dawson at sea, and, I verily believe, from nothing but hard drinking. I strove to put in a few words on religious subjects, when I found her in danger, but was forbidden by the sergeant-major to come near her.

We parted from the Crown near the Land's-End, and she reached home as much as three weeks before us. She went into Plymouth, and we into Portsmouth.

Although it was in the month of July that we reached Old England, it was rainy, drizzly weather; and we found it very cold.

I never saw such poor, miserable, dirty, helpless creatures as our women appeared to be, for the most part, when set down at Portsmouth, with their white muslin gowns, and coloured shoes, trailing and shivering along Portsmouth streets; where many of them were without money, having spent all before them in India.

Poor Nelly Price, though but a child as it were, had taken to bad courses on board ship; and now, finding poverty and hardships staring in her face, she left her parents, and took to a way of life followed by many poor wretches in Portsmouth.

Such of us as were entitled to our discharges received them at Portsmouth: upon which I was going to set out immediately for Brampton, and had written to my mother accordingly, when I was taken with a rheumatic fever, and laid up, till winter, in hospital. I was therefore obliged to defer my journey till the ensuing spring, when, being in sound health and spirits, God be praised, I began my journey on foot; and as pleasant a journey I had of it, as man could have.

It was April, and the flowers were beginning to spring.

The first violets that I saw in the hedge set my heart a-dancing, I cannot tell how; and the sweet smell of the primrose, though I thought it much pleasanter than the mangoe-tree in blossom, reminded me of the mangoe-tope near our camp, where you, and I, and some others, used to go to pray and sing, while we lay in Bahar.

When I came near to Staffordshire, I turned out of my direct road, to pay a visit to Sergeant Browne. He, good man, knowing that I lay sick at Portsmouth, had sent me a letter, to inform me that he had left the regiment, with Sergeants Mills and Francis, and that they were all settled comfortably in a village in Staffordshire. You would not know the place, if I were to tell you the name.

I was mightily pleased with this visit. You cannot think how comfortably our old friends are disposed of. The village lies in a kind of bottom, on the sunny side of a copse. Mills's and Francis's houses are close together: Sergeant Browne's is nearer the copse; and indeed so near it, that Mrs. Browne says she can hear the woodpigeons, and see the squirrels play among the trees, as she sits at her work.

Sergeant Browne, as I still call him, though he is no sergeant now to be sure, picks up a little addition to his pension, and what he has saved, by gardening. He has also a pretty garden of his own; and Mrs. Browne teaches about half-a-dozen little ones to read and work; an employment of which she is very capable. Francis has taken up his old trade of shoemaker, or cobbler as he calls himself; for he can only do rough work at present, till his hand is more in: and Mrs. Francis takes in needle-work. Sergeant Mills now and then does a little at the carpentering trade, which he followed, for

a few years, in his youth. And as to his daughter Mary, she is a fine, modest girl, as ever I saw: no one, to look at her, would suppose that she had been brought up in barracks: but the fear of God is allsufficient.

If it had not been that I so desired to see mother, I should have stayed longer with these good people. As it was, I stayed two Sundays over, and they were most edifying seasons. The minister of the parish, one Mr. Nash, is a godly man. He reminded me much of our dear Mr. King: but there is a family likeness in all the children of God.

We went twice to the parish-church; and in the evening Mr. Nash himself came into Sergeant Browne's, (where we were all drinking tea,) with Madam Nash. Before he took his leave, he prayed and sang with us.

When I took leave of these dear friends, I could not help being in much trouble, considering it as not very likely that we should ever meet again: but Sergeant Browne comforted me with these words; 'There shall be one fold, and one shepherd.' (John x. 16.)

And with these words, beloved brother, I take leave So may God bless you, and bless the works of

of you. your hands.

From your loving brother, till death,

JAMES LAW.

Q. When we see the wicked prosper, while the people of God seem for a time to suffer; of what portion of Scripture should this remind us?

A. Fret not thyself because of evil-doers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity: for they shall soon be cut down like grass, and wither as the green herb. Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt