his own strength did the young pastor thus resolve, for he well knew that to be utter weakness. All his hope was in God, and to him, by faith in Christ, he looked for grace to continue steadily what he had begun. Nor in this was he disappointed. Step by step from that time advancing, and humbly following, though at an immeasurable distance, in the steps of Jesus, he increased in wisdom and in favour with God and man, going about doing good.

And Mrs. Stanhope-did she also keep her resolution? Yes; she "saw" Mr. Oldhame. What that meant may be gathered from the result. In a short time it was pretty generally known that a certain lady was prepared to "come forward liberally if the other members of the church would do their duty. And so it came to pass that in less than six months Mr. Manly had a home of his own, with his pleasant little sister as his housekeeper, and a study which Mrs. Stanhope had taken care to furnish with books enough to make him learned-if, indeed, he were not somewhat too much so already. And thus, after all, the Elijah and Elisha prayer was heard, and the new year was "far happier than the last"!

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THAT BROUGHT ME." Is a pleasant rural town lived a well-to-do farmer, named Foster. At the time we write of him he had known few of the ills of life beyond that occasional petty disappointment of his plans and crossing of his purposes which a career of business brings to every man. His pastures and meadows were always green and sweet with fragrant feeding for his fat flocks and herds, and his productive fields brought him in wealth every year from willing markets.

His family grew up around him in health; and as his years increased, and manhood strengthened into its prime, the neighbours spoke of him as of

one high in their esteem; one whose character and opinions were worthy of general respect.

In the large and flourishing church of his native village, Mr. Foster had long been an honoured member, occupying a prominent pew, and contributing well to her charities; and days had been when her prayermeetings saw him a faithful attendant, and when, better still for his own soul, the closet and the family altar gave witness to his daily visits and his heart bore away tokens of God's approval, grateful as the

summer rain.

But "the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches had made sad havoc with Farmer Foster's piety. From an occasional neglect, he gradually passed to a habitual carelessness of religious duties, till at length he became lost in the world, and forsook the church almost entirely.

Mr. Foster had a son eighteen years old, named Herbert, a young man of promise, who was pursuing a course of study in his native town.

The

heart of the father was bound up in the youth. In the days when religion had held Foster in the love of its gentle duties, he had prayed for Herbert's soul, and God had answered his prayer and converted him. His influence since had not been salutary upon the lad, and he had gone astray like his father, disappointing for awhile the hopes and ambitions entertained for him; but of late his course had brightened, and he had applied himself to his studies with a faithfulness that showed a new understanding of the work of life.

Returning one day from a trip, Herbert Foster left the train at some distance from his home, crossed the ferry, and, walking rapidly all the way, arrived at his father's house, violently heated. Some lack of care in clothing himself when he went into the air again, checked the per

spiration of his body, and predisposed him to immediate disease. In that state he went among the students. At that time there was some sickness in the school, and by one of the opportunities of misfortune, Herbert was brought in contact with it. Immediately the fever seized him. There had been no fatal cases. It was not considered to be anything like a dangerous epidemic. But, with young Foster, the disease operated with a rapidity and virulence that likened it to a plague. On Friday morning he took to his bed; before Saturday night he died. A few brief words, spoken in delirium, were all the farewell he left. The father for a while would not be consoled. He remained like one in a maze through the solemn funeral. The tenderest sympathy of friends, the faithful and touching words of his minister, the parting at the grave, all fell alike upon his heart, like the clods upon the coffin, with a dull, muffled, painful blow. His strong, manly son, his child of promise, the hope of all his years, had been cut down ruthlessly before his eyes, and who could make good his loss?

They were many who mourned for young Foster, and pitied the father's grief. Whatever he had done to forfeit their sympathy, God would make him deserve it again, for in his loss the worldly man had gained a broken heart. In the long-vacant seat in the prayer-meeting they looked and found him there again, as of old, and they heard him tel, as he arose to address the brethren there, how God had dealt with him.

"It is years since I was found in my place," he said. "I got astray little by little, until I was as one of the ungodly. By his goodness the Saviour called me back and urged me to repentance, but I did not listen. He blessed my family with wealth, but I would not turn from my hardness of heart. He gave me worldly prosperity, but still I would not

It was a lovely Sabbath morning in summer; and when Nelly's mother opened the window, she could see, as she lay there on her little white bed, the blue sea with all the sunshine on it, making the snowy sails gleam like the wings of sea-birds; and she could hear the musical dash of the surf on the pebbly shore, out beyond the willow-trees, and the happy songs of the robins in the orchard. And Nelly lay still, looking and listening for several hours. She had been very ill; and though the pain was all gone now, she was still quite weak, too weak to stand alone; and she felt too tired to have her brothers come into the room. Her father only stayed a moment, to kiss his little girl's thin white face; but her mother was -never away long, though too busy to remain with her every moment.

At length the church bells rang, and Nelly heard the front-door close, and then the house was so still that she knew that her father and the children must have gone to the house of God. Perhaps her mother had gone too. A feeling of loneliness came over her, and her eyes filled with tears which she was not strong enough to resist. But just then her mother came in, and Nelly looked up, half-surprised.

Why, mother, are you not going to chapel?"

"No, indeed, darling; I shall stay and take care of my little daughter. Nelly gave a long sigh of relief

and comfort, whispering, "I am glad," and closed her tired eyes, and slept.

When she opened them again, an hour later, her mother was still there, sitting in her little rocking-chair, and reading the Bible.

"Mother," said Nelly softly, won't you please sing and pray, and preach me a short sermon, as if we were in chapel ?"

Her mother consented, and began the service by singing, in a sweet, low voice, that pretty hymn called "The Child and the Angels." When it was concluded, Nelly whispered, "We sang that last Sunday, in Sabbath-school; and while you were singing, I could see dear Miss Carleton and the girls; I could see them in my heart you know."

Then the mother knelt beside the bed, and gave thanks that Nelly was so much better; and prayed for her, and for Miss Carleton and her class; and asked the dear Lord Jesus to be present with herself and Nelly, as they read his word, and spoke together in his name.

Then she sang, "I think when I read that sweet story of old ;" and as she sang, she sat looking at the dear little pale face before her. It looked very sweet and gentle, and inexpressibly precious to her. What a comfort it was to see that restful, happy look, instead of the expression of pain and suffering which had grieved her so deeply! She lay very still, her brown eyes hid by the blue-veined eyelids, and her hair lying in moist dark rings upon the pillow.

When the hymn was ended, the mother read how the Lord Jesus went to see a little girl who was very sick-so sick that she did not live till he reached the house, but lay there dead when he came. He took her little cold lifeless hand in his, and said, "Arise!" and the dead face brightened with life, her eyes opened, and she rose as he bade her, and

stood beside him with her wondering and rejoicing parents.

Nelly's mother stopped a moment, for her eyes were full of tears, and she could not speak. She was thinking of last Friday night, when Nelly's fever was very violent, and they feared that death was near. At last, she said, "Darling, the Lord Jesus came here as you lay ill. We could not see him as these parents did, but we know that he was here. Your father and I had called him; we prayed with all our hearts that he would come and heal you. And he came; he cured you, and comforted our hearts and now you are getting well. How kind, how good he is!"

"But, mother," said Nelly, "if he had not come to make me well, would he have come to take me home with him ?"

"Yes, dear," her mother answered, and a little silence followed.

Nelly was thinking, with wonder and awe, of the untried journey_to the land that is very far off. Her conception of it was mostly derived from pictures, especially those in the beautiful edition of "The Pilgrim's Progress" down-stairs, and from hymns, fragments of which floated through her mind as she thought how strange it would have been if she really had been to-day in the Celestial City -"beautiful Zion, built above," in sight of the "sweet fields beyond the swelling flood," 'the radiant dome," the "Eternal City's gorgeousness,' the streets of shining gold." But her mother was thinking of the pain, the parting, the silence, the grave, the lonely house, the broken circle. Death seemed a different thing to the child, who looked fearlessly beyond it to the heaven of whose glory and blessedness she had heard and sung so often, and to the

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mother whose heart and home it would have left so desolate.

"We felt that we could not spare you, darling," she said; "and the dear Lord has given you back to us.