he
goodness and mercy of our Saviour, till I arrive at the vast ocean of
eternity!

"Thither," thought I, "little Jane is fast hastening. Short, but not
useless, has been _her_ course. I feel the great importance of it in my
own soul at this moment. I view a work of mercy _there_, to which I do
hope I am not quite a stranger in the experience of my own heart. The
thought enlivens my spirit, and leads me to see that, great as is the
power of sin the power of Jesus is greater; and, through grace, I _may_
meet my dear young disciple, my child in the gospel, my sister in the
faith, in a brighter, a better world hereafter."

There was something in the whole of this meditation which calmed and
prepared my mind for my promised visit the next day. I looked forward to
it with affectionate anxiety.

It was now time to return homewards. The sun was setting. The
lengthened shadows of the cliffs, and of the hills towering again far
above them, cast a brown but not unpleasing tint over the waters of the
bay. Further on the beams of the sun still maintained their splendour.
Some of the sails of the distant ships, enlivened by its rays, appeared
like white spots in the blue horizon, and seemed to attract my notice, as
if to claim at least the passing prayer, "God speed the mariners on their
voyage."

I quitted my retreat in the cliff with some reluctance; but with a state
of mind, as I hoped, solemnized by reflection, and animated to fresh
exertion.

I walked up by a steep pathway, that winded through the trees and shrubs
on the sides of one of the precipices. At every step the extent of
prospect enlarged, and acquired a new and varying character, by being
seen through the trees on each side. Climbing up a kind of rude,
inartificial set of stone stairs in the bank, I passed by the singularly
situated cottages which I had viewed from beneath; received and returned
the evening salutation of the inhabitants, sitting at their doors, and
just come home from labour; till I arrived at the top of the precipice,
where I had left my horse tied to a gate.

Could _he_ have enjoyed it, he had a noble prospect around him in every
direction from this elevated point of view, where he had been stationed
while I was on the shore below. But wherein he most probably failed I
think his rider did not. The landscape, taken in connection with my
recent train of thought about myself and little Jane, inspired devotion.

The sun was now set: