Mr. Brewster has recently been abroad, and travel, which is so often a test of character, has improved him. He returns from Europe with his energy of soul held in check—his feelings are composed and chastened—his manner is subdued to a more Christian serenity—his voice has not its old, impetuous volume—the rushing heat of passion comes from his lips with less of its scorching severity. Life has broader aims in his eyes than formerly—the hour and to-day, are less important—the immediate success less looked to—the distant future is lived for more earnestly, with wiser hopes of a happy present hereafter. All this comes upon us—his old associate—with a force the greater, because we have been less with him, of late; and the gradual, familiar growing of these better purposes of soul have been less visible to us—they burst upon us like a strain of pure music when discord has suddenly been stilled. Mr. Brewster, himself, is a happier man—his old exuberant gayety is a well-tempered serenity and joyousness—the picture has been toned down, and the artist dwells upon it as a diviner effort of the Creator. Mr. Brewster has nothing to do now but to _wait_!—high honors will come to him unsolicited. His position is assured. His ability, his integrity, his earnest energy of soul for the right and the true, open the pathway for all that the ambition of a Christian has a right to look for. This is Prophecy—the Inspiration which Truth impresses upon the soul. G. R. G. * * * * * SORRENTO. BY C. P. CRANCH.