in vain for me to attempt to tell you how much of peace, serenity, and love there is in all his words; nothing of that feverish excitement which characterises fanaticism; all was calm, all was simple, all was true. The faith of Madiai is that of a simple little child. As I gave him the kind and affectionate wishes and salutations of his friends at Florence-" And I, also," said he, "have felt the happiness of praying that this Christmas-day, when a Saviour was born, may be to all of them a day of blessing and grace. And I pray not only for my friends, I pray for all; for those who have injured me; for my enemies, if I have any, that God may bless them also; for, by the power of grace on my heart I have no painful feeling against any one;" and whilst he thus spoke the tears glistened in his eyes, and rolled down his hollow cheeks.

Then he told me how his convictions, which have since become so firm, were first formed; how, for the last twelve years, he fed upon the Bible, and found in it all his heart had longed for. He was thus led to speak to me with the most touching affection of his wife, and the blessed influence she had exercised upon his religious principles. "When you see her," added he, "tell her I still love her, and that I never forget her at the throne of grace; but that I cannot write to her because my head is so feeble, and my hand so trembling. Besides, I try to die to the world, and to dwell as little as possible on the earthly happiness we enjoyed together; and I cannot look on those days without rending my heart; and if I dwelt too long on the past, I might be tempted to murmur, and I should lose that peace which is my sole delight in prison. Tell her I have left her in the hands of our heavenly Father; tell her to think of those words of our Saviour, Luke xviii. 29, 30,—‘And He said unto them, Verily I say unto you, there is no man that hath left houses, or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God's sake, who shall not receive

manifold more in this present time, and in the world to come life everlasting.'

Again he said, "Do not think that I am weary, or that the days appear long to me in this prison. It is true that I can scarcely read, because my head is so weak; but I still have the privilege of prayer, and exercise it continually. But Jesus is with me, and I feel nearer to Him than when I had my liberty. He keeps me here from many temptations, to which I might otherwise be exposed. The flesh is weak, but He does not leave me to myself; my very imprisonment is thus an additional blessing and favour."

Francesco Madiai has certainly not lost all hope of regaining his liberty. He knows that an act of clemency may change his fate; but he says, "Father, let thy will and not mine be done." He seemed to me much less taken up with the thoughts of obtaining his liberty, than with the idea of being sheltered from the temptations incident to life. I found him deeply impressed with feelings of gratitude and regard for the turnkeys of the prison. Whilst we were reading Psalm xlii. he begged me to lower my voice, so as to give no occasion of finding fault. He begged the inspector's pardon for occupying so much of his time whilst attending during my visit. He thanked the physician with an overflowing heart for all the care he lavished on him, promising to follow his prescriptions, and expressing a hope that God would restore his health.

As I was about to leave him, his affection for his wife was shown in his last words "Do not let her know weak I am, but try and console her."

how very

What I saw and heard at Lucca equally edified me. The character of Rosa is naturally more energetic and more excitable than that of her husband. She herself admits it is with difficulty she can subdue her heart, and help rebelling against the gross injustice done them; and yet, as if to show that the husband and

wife were both animated by the same spirit, her words were- "That she also felt a desire to pray not only for her friends but also for her enemies, for all of whom she thought she might with reason complain, and particularly of the servant girl who betrayed them. She, too, has an immortal soul, which nothing but the Saviour's blood can redeem. May God enlighten them, may God pardon them, as I have need to be pardoned myself."

I was profoundly touched with the sincere humility with which she acknowledged her weaknesses. "Who are we," she said, "that we should be deemed worthy to suffer such things from love to Christ, and to bear his shame! Poor, sinful worms, we are nothing-absolutely nothing! Since He has conferred this honour upon us, and given us this grace, ought we not continually, on bended knees, to praise and bless Him? Alas! I cannot always do so. I cannot reconcile myself to this prison, and I sometimes bitterly regret all I have lost."

I then tried to comfort her by telling her that the greatest saints, the Apostles even, had had their moments of weakness; that God permits it should be so, in order to humble us, and to teach us a salutary mistrust of ourselves. But the Lord Jesus says to all his true servants, "Fear not, my grace is sufficient."

"Ah, yes!" she rejoined, “I feel it; and if, by recanting, I could obtain my liberty and the possession of all that once belonged to me, I would rather die in this prison. I am naturally of a proud spirit, and when I reflect that we have done no wrong, and think of the interest which our condemnation has excited, of the many petitions on our behalf which have been laid in vain at the feet of the Grand Duke, I can scarcely refrain my indignation."

"You no doubt know," I then said to her, "what we must do, to shake off these feelings of hatred, and

other evil sentiments, which are so apt to rise in our hearts. Pray for your sovereign; he has an important and difficult task to fulfil; a great responsibility presses upon him; it is not an easy matter for the great of the earth to do good; more than others they need that prayer should ascend to the Almighty for them."

"Ah!" said she, with a vivacity which came from her heart, "do not think that I have the slightest feeling against the Grand Duke. I would lay, down my life for him. But there are moments when I could wish to unburden my heart before him, and let him judge of the injustice of which we are the victims."

This strong and generous heart is still more alive to kindnesses than to injuries. With tears in her eyes, and with accents of the deepest gratitude, Rosa Madiai told me of all that Mr. C. had done for her and for her husband; the condition of the latter incessantly occupied her thoughts. "I am too much favoured," she said to me; "I may see my friends four times a month, whilst poor Francesco is allowed to see Mr. C. only once in the same time. Ah! strive, if you please, that these favours may be equally divided between us; or, if there be a difference, that my husband may have the preference."

She has not attained that entire deadness to the world and self-renunciation which struck me so forcibly in Francesco. Human nature in her has more to be subdued; but in these conflicts and this anguish it is easy to see that her soul is given to Jesus Christ. The heart of Rosa Madiai naturally leans towards those who suffer; and amongst the friends she has left at Florence. Those whom she wishes to see again, those whom she is most anxious to hear about, are those who are the most tried by afflictions.

I must not forget to say, that the health of Rosa Madiai appears to have improved lately; she is, however, weak, and at times suffers violent pains in her head.

When I ponder in my mind what I have seen and heard at Volterra and Lucca, and would secure to myself, and to those to whom I preach the Word of God, their salutary influence, it seems to me that I cannot better convey, in a few words, the impression I received, than by accommodating the language of St. Paul: "I would to God, that not only I, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as these two prisoners are, except their bonds." Nothing can be more calculated than their example to persuade every one to become a Christian.

LIVE NOT TO YOURSELF.

ON the frail little stem in the garden hangs the opening rose. Ask, why it hangs there? "I hang here," says the beautiful flower, "to sweeten the air which man breathes, to open my beauties, to kindle emotion in his eye, to show him the hand of his God, who pencilled each leaf and laid them thus on my bosom. And whether you find me here to greet him every morning, or whether you find me on the lone mountain side, with the bare possibility that he will throw me one passing glance, my end is the sameI live not to myself."

Beside yonder highway stands an aged tree, solitary and alone. You see no living thing near it; and you say, surely that must stand for itself alone. No," answers the tree, "God never made me for a purpose so small. For more than a hundred years I have stood here. In summer I have spread out my arms and sheltered the panting flocks which hastened to my shade. In my bosom I have concealed and protected the brood of young birds, as they lay and rocked in their nests; in the storm I have more than once re