COMUS.

The shades of evening were falling as Holden entered the village.  He proceeded straight to the house of Mr. Armstrong, whom he had seen twice or thrice already since his return from New York, though we have made no mention of the visits.

He found Armstrong thinner and paler than ever.  The constitutional melancholy with which he was afflicted appeared to have deepened, and there was something now in the tones of his voice so sad and tender, that they moved Holden to an extraordinary degree.  Other friends of Armstrong were affected by them, but, with the exception of Faith, there was no one who seemed to lay these signs of unhappiness so much to heart as the Solitary.  This, perhaps, may account, in a measure, for the increased frequency of his visits.

A smile like sunshine stealing from behind a wintry cloud over the pure snow, welcomed Holden.  As he took the offered hand of Armstrong, he found it extenuated and cold, and pressed it with more than ordinary feeling, before he took a seat by his side.  The first inquiry of the Recluse was, as usual, after Faith.

“She is out,” answered her father, “but I expect her soon.”

“The sight of Faith is to me as the beauty and fragrance of days long gone,” said Holden.  “Unsinning Eve was not more lovely.”

“She was early dedicated to her God, and is, indeed, a meet offering for his altar,” said Armstrong.

“Blessed are they,” exclaimed Holden, “whose feet have never strayed from the straight and narrow way.  Where they tread spring up immortal flowers, and they breathe the air of Paradise.”

“And, alas!” said Armstrong, “how short is usually their stay.  How soon they depart for the celestial regions, to which they belong, leaving breaking hearts behind!”

“Woe to the earth-born selfishness, that riseth up in opposition!  It is not agreeable to the law of God, nor can be.  Down with the rebellion of ignorance and unbelief.”

“But is no allowance to be made for human weakness?  May we not weep over the calamities of life?”

“Aye, weep, if the tears wash out a sin, but not because the divine will is different from thine own.  What callest thou calamity?  There is no calamity, but sin.”

“It is hard,” sighed Armstrong, “to reach that height of abnegation and faith to which you would have me aspire.”

“Hard, but attainable, for without faith it is impossible to please Him.  There are examples set before us for imitation of what the trusting spirit can achieve.  By faith Abraham offered up Isaac when he was tried, having confidence that God could raise him up even from the dead.  By faith—­but why should I recount the deeds of those grand souls, of whom the world was not worthy, who, through faith, subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, even from Enoch, who tasted not the bitterness of death, and Elijah, mounting on a fiery chariot, in a whirlwind, to heaven, down to these latter days, when, as said the apostle, ’faith should wax weak, and almost perish from the earth?’”