76 THE HAWTHORN. 



of men, tliat work was begun in liim, wliich God 

 never connmences to leave unfinished ; though 

 soineiiines drawing a veil, and from its obscurity 

 breathincr into our souls the niemoiable word, 

 ** Only believe and thou shalt see the glory of 

 God." 



1 could murmur that the hawihorn blossom has 

 this year unfolded prematurely beneath the unwon- 

 ted softness of the season ; but ever welcome be 

 the endeared type ! shall we quarrel with ihe ra- 

 pidity of God's mercies, and lament the untimely 

 perfecting of a glorified spirit? If the flowers be 

 "withered, the fruit will tell that thev iiave verily 

 bloomed, and left an endearing rec'"'*'^ of their 

 existence ; but some lingering blossom 1 shall find 

 to speak of what needs no memento. It was once 

 my lot to pass a spring in a distant country, so 

 bleak and barren that, throughout the whole terri- 

 tory, only one attempt at cultivating the hawthorn 

 had succeeded, and that consisted of a few yards 

 of hedging close to my abode. How sweet was 

 the smile wilh whirli its white flowers seemed to 

 look out upon the pooi stranger, speaking not merely 

 of home, but of all that had made home pleasant 

 to my happv childhood ! The colonists prized 

 their hawthorn hedge, and pointed it out wilh pride, 

 to their curious children, descanting on the beauties 

 of English landscape ; but who among them could 

 love it as I did ? 



