comfort to the living.' And, to tell you the truth,” she added, in a lower tone, "I suspect she is afraid to trust Emily here any longer. You know she and our James always had a notion for each other, and I guess Susan has found it out too, for though she is not much used to the world, she is a cute woman by natur', and sees as far into a millstone, as a'most any body. I marked her looking at Emily when James came into the room, for you must know he came in just after you went out, and Emily's face that was as white as curds before, turned red to the very roots of her hair; and when James offered her his hand, she did not take it to be sure, for that is quite contrary to all shaker rules and regulations; but she did not look the least affronted."

"I cannot think," said Ellen, shaking her head doubtfully, "that Emily has any attachment to James. If she had, why did she join the shakers ?" "Why! ah, that's more than I can tell. It passes the skill of a rational creature to give the whys and the wherefores of the motions of you young girls. I would as soon undertake to give a reason for the shiftings of the wind. But I am as sure that Emily Allen would rather stay with James, than to go back to the shakers, as that I know a southerly breeze from a northwester." "But, Miss Deborah," asked Ellen, apparently still incredulous," was there any thing said that would warrant your conclusion ?"

"Yes, a good deal was said, but very low, and

I scarcely heard any thing. But I did, however, hear James say, 'Oh, Emily, how can you bear to think of all poor Edward felt for you, and of your old grandmother, for it will certainly kill her, and go back again to those people?' mind you, he did not say a word about himself, but he looked enough, and I am sure Emily understood him, for girls are quick enough at taking such ideas, and I saw the tears gush from her eyes," and she said, "it is a great cross, James, but I must bear it." Susan saw as much as I did, for she seemed as uneasy as a bird when a boy is robbing her nest. And she got up and told Emily in her calm way, to go with her to the kitchen fire. And Emily followed her, and she will follow her home, though with a heavy heart in her bosom."

"But," said Ellen, "Emily shall not go against her inclination."

"Ah, there is the rub," replied Debby; "Susan has that in her that she can make people a mind to do what they would hate to do for any body else. I don't know what it is, she is not a stern woman, but it is a kind of natʼral authority, as if she was a born-queen."

"She is very good, certainly," said Ellen, as if trying to discover the secret of Susan's power.

"There it is," replied Debby, "there is no getting such a grapple upon young folks' hearts, without goodness. But come, Ellen, there is no use in our standing here paraphrasing the matter, do you go to bed, and I'll wait till this old vulture

has done eating, and see them off, and then go back to the traveller's room; the laudanum has put him to sleep at last, and that is the best thing for him."

Ellen assured Deborah, that she would comply with her wishes, after having made one effort to detain Emily. Deborah commended her zeal, but was quite hopeless of success. Ellen said,

that if she could not persuade her to remain with them now, she might suggest some considerations that might weigh with her afterwards. Debby thought "that looked rational; but there was no calculating with certainty upon such a feeble piece; if Emily's head had been as strong as her heart, she would never have been led away by such fooleries."

Sanguine hope is the privilege of the young; and Ellen began her expostulations with her ardour unimpaired by Debby's suggestions. She appealed to Emily's reason, and to her feelings for a long time, without producing any sensible effect. Both Susan and Emily sate in a fixed posture, with their eyes rivetted on the floor. At last, the poor girl, unable any longer to smother the voice of nature, sobbed out, "what shall I do? what ought I to do?"

"Resist to the death," exclaimed Susan, in a voice of authority. "It is a strong temptation, child, but there is a way of escape. Come, Reuben," she added, turning to Harrington, "we cannot tarry here in safety any longer."

"I am ready to depart," he replied, "for my decaying nature is greatly refreshed by this carnal food. I feared before I took it, that, as the angel said to the prophet Elijah, my journey had been too great for me."

"That is a small matter," said Susan; and then added in a lower tone, "Reuben, the child's soul is at stake:" and she followed him to the door, apparently to hasten his preparations. Ellen availed herself of this moment to ask Emily, at the same time placing her hand on the latch of the door that led into the apartment of the deceased, "if she would not once more look upon her brother."

"Oh, yes," said she, and for the first time instinctively obeying the impulse of her feelings, she darted through the door: Ellen closed it after her without following; believing that at this moment, it was best to leave her to the unassisted workings of her natural affections. But Susan, as soon as she returned from laying her injunctions on Reuben, dreading what Ellen most wished, went to the door, and said, as calmly as she was able, for her fears were increased by seeing James Lenox standing beside Emily, and eagerly addressing her, "Come, my child, we wait for you, be not like a silly dove without heart; take up your cross again, a full cross though it may be, and turn your back upon the world." Emily, after a short struggle, obeyed, but with evident reluctance. It was manifest that the cords which bound her were re

laxed, though not broken. Young Lenox followed her to the door, and unobserved even by Susan's watchful eye, he thrust a paper into her hand, which, without examining or offering to return it, she slipped into her bosom. A person of ordinary sagacity might have predicted, that from this moment the charm of the elder sister's power was dissolved, and that though accident and habit, and the natural submission of weakness, intellectual or physical, to power, might detain the youthful disciple in thraldom, it would no longer be the service of a willing heart. Emily took an affectionate leave of Ellen; and Susan, after having simply said, "Farewell," turned and added, "you meant well, Ellen-I know you meant well; but you have the voice of a charmer, and how should I be justified if I suffered this young child to be seduced from her obedience to the gospel ?"

"Promise me, at least," said Ellen, "that you will not constrain Emily to remain among you; promise me that you will suffer her to see and hear from her friends."

"Ellen," replied Susan, in a tone of solemnity bordering on displeasure, "we have neither dungeons, bolts, nor chains. We care not for the poor service of the perishing body; but we would bring all into the obedience of the spirit; and," she concluded, looking at Emily with tearful eyes, "we would keep them there, if watching and praying can keep them: we have no other means."

"You promise then, what I ask ?”