Malcom Roscoe, Margaret's father, was a young man of superior abilities, but of great original delicacy of constitution; he was retiring, studious, meditative, and in all respects a contrast to his older and only brother, Alan, who early developed those qualities which are necessary to the active man of business. A very warm attachment united these two young men, and a sad blow it was to Malcom, when his brother, with the energy and decision natural to his character, announced his intention of emigrating to America, where bright prospects had opened before him. An old friend had commenced a large commercial establishment in one of the Atlantic cities, and had offered him a clerkship, with the prospect of speedy admission into the firm: he regretted to leave his aged father, and his only brother, but such an excellent opportunity of advancing himself in life was not to be neglected, and he gratefully accepted the proposition. With many tears, he bade adieu to the beloved inmates of the manse, and set out for the New World: his industry and integrity had been greatly prospered, and in a few years he was an honored partner of the house into which he had entered as a penniless clerk. What, meantime, had been Malcom's lot? He had applied himself with assiduity to the study of divinity, for which both his character and his abilities had admirably fitted him, but his health was unequal to the demands made upon it. He passed his examination with great honor, was immediately called to a parish, and went there to settle, accompanied by his young wife, a delicate and interesting orphan girl, to whom he had been long attached. His zealous spirit saw much to rectify, and many labors to perform, in his new sphere: he entered with ardor into the discharge of his duties, but soon he found that his frail body had been overtasked by its imperious master the soul, and was no longer able to do his bidding. He faded away from earth, as do so many of the best and noblest of the race, when just ready to apply to the loftiest purposes the faculties so carefully trained. To us, such occurrences appear to be very mysterious dispensations of Providence: but the individual himself has attained the true object of his being, the full development of all his powers, and is prepared for a more elevated existence. And we may believe, since not even a sparrow falls to the ground unheeded by our Father, and since no waste is allowed in nature, so that even the dead leaf ministers to new combinations of being, that the noble gifts of the mind will not be unused after death. In other spheres, amid other society, they will doubtless be employed for the benefit of immortal beings. Mutual beneficence must form a large part of the business and pleasure of heaven.