ristian young man,
you ever see or I ever see. The power of good he does among the
poor--poor young fellow--is not to be told or counted--but he's so
melancholy like, and so gentle, and so kind, it makes one a'most cry to
look at him; that's the worst of it."

"He looks like a clergyman; I could fancy he was in holy orders. Do you
know whether he is so or not?"

"Yes, ma'am, I have heard say that he is a parson, but nobody in these
parts has ever seen him in a pulpit; but now it strikes me I've heard
that he was to be curate to Mr. Thomas, of Briarwood parish, but he was
ta'en bad of his chest or his throat, and never able to speak up like,
so it would not do; he can not at present speak in a church, for his
voice sounds so low, so low."

"I wonder we have never met with him, or heard of him before."

"Oh, miss! he's not been in this country very long, and he goes out
nowhere but to visit the poor; and tired and weak as he looks, he seems
never tired of doing good."

"He looks very pale and thin."

"Ay, doesn't he? I'm afraid he's but badly; I've heard some say he was
in a galloping consumption, others a decline; I don't know, but he seems
mighty weak like."

A little more talk went on in the same way, and then Lettice asked the
nurse whether she felt rested, as it was time to be returning home, and,
giving the poor bed-ridden patient a little money, which was received
with abundance of thanks, Lettice left the house.

When she entered the little garden, she saw the young man was not gone;
he was leaning pensively against the gate, watching the swinging
branches of a magnificent ash tree, which grew upon a green plot by the
side of the lane. Beautiful it was as it spread its mighty magnificent
head against the deep blue summer sky, and a soft wind gently whispered
among its forest of leaves.

Lettice could not help, as she observed the countenance of the young
man, who seemed lost in thought, admiring the extraordinary beauty of
its expression. Something of the sublime, something of the angelic,
which we see in a few remarkable countenances, but usually in those
which are spiritualized by mental sufferings, and great physical
delicacy.

He started from his reverie as she and the nurse approached, and lifted
the latchet of the little wicket to lot them pass. And, as he did so,
the large, melancholy eye was lighted up with something of a pleasurable
expression, as he looked at Lettice, and said,

"A beautif