Henry. Then the bishop of Lincoln did ordain him? Mamma. Yes; but not till his patience had been put to the test by repeated delays. He had learned from Dr. Gordon that the ordination would be held in London, and thither he went at the appointed period, full of sanguine hope. But, alas! his father's consent had not been obtained, and he had brought no letter of recommendation from some beneficed clergyman. His request for admittance was refused, and he, spiritless and disheartened, was compelled to retrace his road homewards; which he did by a circuitous route, a great part of the way on foot, and the rest in various vehicles. At length he reached Braytoft, after walking twenty miles in the forenoon; and having dined, he put off his clerical clothes, resumed his shepherd's dress, and sheared eleven large sheep in the afternoon. Henry. Oh, this was resolution, indeed!-noble resolution! So much as he disliked the employ, and so much disap pointed as he must have been by his fruitless journey to London. Mamma. Yes: it is a striking proof of that energy of mind which formed a peculiar feature in the character of Thomas Scott. "Whatever he found to do, he did it with all his might." Henry. By what means did he succeed at last, mamma? I thought you said, that his whole plan of entering into the ministry of the gospel would have entirely failed, if it had not been for his lamb, which implies that he did succeed in the end. Mamma. Yes: although he failed in his first attempt, on account of not having obtained the consent of his father, yet he at length yielded to the urgent entreaties of Mrs. Scott and her children, and gave his consent, in writing, to Thomas's entering orders. Thus the grand difficulty was surmounted, his hopes were revived, he obtained a letter from his friend Dr. Calthorp of Boston; and soon after receiving ordination, was settled as a cu But do not rate in Buckinghamshire. suppose that I attribute his success solely to his lamb: without prudence and discretion, it would never have produced the sum of sixty-eight pounds; and without that persevering application, for which he was remarkable-that energy of mind, which taught him to rise superior to the disadvantages under which he labouredhe would never have filled the eminent station he afterwards occupied, as a profound scholar, and a pious and excellent man; for, although his youthful years had been clouded by doubts, and fears, and distrusts, as he advanced to maturity, Christianity found its dwelling-place in his heart, and there it remained "a well of water springing up into everlasting life." Its invigorating influence was ever after in active operation, and diffused through his soul "that peace which the world can neither give nor take away," until "mortality was swallowed up in life;" and, full of years and honours, he entered upon a state of never-ending happiness. 60 CHAP. VI. འ་་་ 'DOCTOR BEATTIE. Louisa. MAMMA, may I repeat those two beautiful "But who the melodies of morn can tell? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side; The lowing herd; the sheep-fold's simple bell; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn among the cliff's above; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide; The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, And the full choir, that wakes the universsal grove. "The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ; Crown'd with her pail the tripping milk-maid sings; The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and hark! Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings; Thro' rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs; Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower, And shrill lark carols clear from her aërial tour." Mamma. You can repeat them very correctly, my love; but now let me hear whether you understand them also. Louisa. "But who the melodies of morn can tell ?" Sweetness of sound is melody, mamma: the sheep-fold's simple bell, the pipe of the shepherd, and the ploughman's whistle -these are the "melodies of morn.' Then, “The wild brook babbling down the mountain-side." G |