It happened, on a solemn even-tide, soon after He that was our Surety
died, two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd (the scene of all their sor-
rows left behind), sought their own village — busied as they went in musings
worthy of the great event ; they spake of Him they loved, of Him whose
life, though blameless, had incurred perpetual strife ; whose deeds had
left, in spite of hostile arts, a deep memorial graven on their hearts. The
recollection, like a vein of ore the farther trac'd, enrich'd them still the
more ; they thought Him, and they justly thought Him, one sent to do
more than He appeared to have done ; to exalt a people, and to place
them high above all else — and wondered He should die ! Ere yet they
brought their journey to an end, a Stranger join'd them, courteous as a
friend ; and asked them, with a kind, engaging air, what their affliction
was, and begged a share. Informed, he gathered up the broken thread ;
and, truth and wisdom gracing all he said, explained, illustrated, and
searched so well the tender theme on v/hich they chose to dwell, that,
reaching home, " The night," they said, " is near ; we must not now be
parted, sojourn here." The new acquaintance soon became a guest, and,
made so welcome at their simple feast, he bless'd the bread, but vanished
at the word ; and left them both exclaiming, " 'Twas the Lord ! Did not our
hearts feel all 5e deigi^'d to 9ay ? did they not bum within ^a by the
vajr ?"



FOR SENIOR PUPILa. 125

«4.— THE EXILE'S FAREWELL TO IRELAND.— ^/Wtiflrton.
