"Lovely day it has been-quite a clear, orthodox autumn day," and he tried to laugh at his own way of putting it, but failed in the attempt. Somehow, men are so much more clumsy than women, with all the latter's timidity, in delicate matters. "Yes," I answered, " quite." Then I put my hand for a moment on his arm, and said, "Mr. Stanton, I know all you have to say to me. Nellie told me last night."

"Did she?" he exclaimed, for the first time looking me in the face, and seemingly immensely relieved; "did she? I am so glad; and you are not very angry with the poor child? I am so fond of her, Miss Cowley!"

He said the last words so naturally and boyishly, and so evidently with all his heart, that they did more for him in his cause with me than if he had spoken for half an hour to convince me of his love for my sister.

"But you should not have drawn her into a clandestine engagement," I said. "You have systematically waylaid her, and gained her affections. I don't think it was quite right of you."

"I couldn't help it, Miss Cowley; I couldn't, indeed. Somehow, we liked each other from the first."

"Then why cannot you say so, and face it out? She is a lady," I said, repeating Nellie's own words.

"So I will soon, only I can't bear a bother," he added emphatically. "You see my mother wants me to marry Miss Drayton; and the fact is there are some confounded debts-I beg your pardon, Miss Cowley."

"Well, is Miss Drayton to pay them ?" I asked, a little contemptuously.

"No, certainly not. My mother pays them; she docks my allowance."

There was something almost laughable in the grave way in which he made the latter remark, and it seemed so absurd for a man of his age and position to be under the control of his mother.

then;" and he looked at me again with a frank, open expression on his face, which made it easy to understand why Nellie had fallen in love with him. "So my father left all the property to my mother, for fear I should make ducks and drakes of it, and at her disposal; but, you know, I'm the only son, and Daisy is going to marry well, and Charlotte is sure to marry, so it must come to me."

"But in the meantime ?"

"In the meantime she makes me a good allowance-quite enough for Nellie and me-only there are the debts. They'll be paid off in a few months, and then I don't care; and Colonel Stanton will be in England next year, and he always promised to do something for me."

"But do you think your mother would be so violently angry if you told her honestly that you were in love with Nellie ?"

"Why, it would only make a row," he said; and I saw a look of moral cowardice creep into his face, and I knew that he was a man who could be swayed in almost any direction. "I can't bear a row; and she thinks it would be an excellent thing if I married Miss Drayton. In a few months those debts will be paid off, and Colonel Stanton here, and altogether things may alter, and some one else may marry Emma; and, Miss Cowley, I am sincere in all I say about Nellie, and I would do anything in the world for her." He was at his best when he spoke of his love for Nellie.

'Why haven't you taken to some profession?” I

"Well, you see, my father left her all the property for life. It wasn't entailed. Look here, Miss Cowley, this is how it is: my father was a younger son and had nothing, but he made a fortune, or something like it. The elder son, old Colonel Stanton, is alive still, and unmarried, and so, of course, I'm his heir, unless he marries. The old fellow is always looking at the girls; I hope he won't marry, by jingo!" and he kicked a stray pebble which happened to be on the pavement, in his impatience.

"But why didn't your father provide for you?"

I should not want so much from her during her lifetime."

"Well ?" I said, for he had come to a stop. "Well," he continued, "I can live on very little with Nellie; and once I am out of debt, and that sort of thing, they will like her, I know they will, she is so pretty and clever, and all that; and Daisy is very fond of her-I'm half a mind to tell Daisy."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"Why, I want you to let Nellie come and give her lessons as usual, and- "

give her up, I am determined of that, and you can't make her dislike me," and he was a little vain over her love. Nellie had a way of exalting those she cared for in their own estimation, as well as in hers, till she made them vain; I knew it by myself, and forgave him. "After all," he went on, "I am not a boy, and the deception is mine, not Nellie's. It isn't as if I had persuaded her not to tell you. We have taken you into our confidence directly, you

see."

Well, what do you ask of me?"

"Why, to let matters go on as they are. In a few months I will make them all right; and, Miss Cowley, I am not playing: I am in earnest."

"Yes, I think you are that."

"Well, let her come just the same and teach the girls to draw, and don't be angry if I walk home with her, and let me come and see her sometimes. There can't be any impropriety in that; you are a protection, you know."

"And if I do?" I said, coming to a standstill, for we had reached our door, and I wondered if Nellie was looking down on us from the window.

"I will be so grateful to you, Miss Cowley. I see you are relenting now; mayn't I come in just for a few minutes ?"

"No, not now," I answered.

"But I may sometimes? Daisy told me how she came to tea. Ask me to tea some day, Miss Cowley." Perhaps I will some day," I said laughing, in spite of myself; "but remember you are only to be admitted when I am at home."

"I will remember anything if you will only remember how much Nellie is to me," he said, as he shook hands and left me, while I stood for a moment looking after him, knowing that Nellie and Frank Stanton were one day to be married, and that I had promised to recognise the engagement, clandestine though it was. Still, after all, I could not help thinking that he was in a manner right when he had said that it was not so very great an iniquity for a man of eight-and-twenty to keep his own counsel in a matter that really only concerned himself, and certainly, in this instance, involved no family disgrace. Oh, Mary!" said Nellie, as she sat at my feet that evening and had heard all I had to tell," there is no one in the world like you."

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Then she sat still, too happy to talk, and I was silent also, and sat and thought in the twilight and the firelight, while my little sister's head rested on my

lap.

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It would all come right in the end, I thought. They could not make such very violent objections to my Nellie, for as she had pleaded the day before, and I had argued only a few hours since, "she was a lady," and Daisy, I knew, was fond of her. Of Frank Stanton's love it was impossible to doubt, with the remembrance of his face that afternoon fresh in my mind; and after all there was one grand relief in all this; for I was not strong, and Nellie would want some one to fight life's battle for her; and though I knew she was clever beyond all doubt, still the cleverest are not always the most prosperous, and she was not formed to rough it in the world. Yes, it was a consolation to knew she would have a life of ease and comfort; and if Frank Stanton-as somehow, in spite of all, I know him to be-was selfish, and worldly, and egotistical, still, those very qualities would be almost in her favour once she was married to him, for they would make him proud of a beautiful and clever wife; and his love for her would deaden them and keep them in the background in her presence; and even if it did not, still she would not see them, for love is very blind. Besides, faults in those we care for do not alter our feelings; on the contrary, if we do not blot them altogether out of our memory and sight, we so garnish them and beautify them in our love that they become almost idealised, into virtues. Yes, it was something to know that when I was gone, or my working powers failed, and if Nellie's hands proved weak, that she would be cared and provided for, and the knowledge was not dear at the trifling deceit, for after all it was nothing more, by which it was purchased. For myself, when Nellie was married I should be alone, for I made up my mind that nothing should induce me to live with her; young people are better even without their best and dearest friends. When Nellie was gone I should live on alone; perhaps, too, I should continue always to live in the same house as Miss West, and sometimes of an evening, when her brother came in, we should spend some pleasant hours still. Ah, me! I wondered how it was, that sometimes when Nellie's blue eyes were not present in my mind their place was taken by the grave, earnest face of Dawson West.

T

HE crowds uncover for the dead,

As though beneath the pall Reposed the body of a kingThe monarch of us all.

Hath God withdrawn a power from earth
Who ruled the people well,

Or quenched the light which brightly burned
In some grand oracle?

Doth he who on the battle-field Sustained old England's fame, Or kept upon the trackless deep

Invincible her name

Or he who sang upon the wake
Of Shakespeare, lie in state,
Great in the glory of his life,
And after dying great?

Yet e'en the warders of the State,
Or teachers of the soul,

Could scarce from eyes that seldom weep

Bid tears like these to roll.

A nation to its centre torn

Will mighty witness bring, That pain of sorrow has its rise

In pain of suffering.

Weep then, ye reverent host, for him, Who, building his own pyre,

Went, like the prophet, up to heaven

In chariots of fire!

Six times into the depths he plunged,
Lost in the awful gloom,
Then came, the rescuer of his kind,
Back from the jaws of doom.

Mid wrath of lurid flames and smoke
He bravely pressed anew;
When, dazed by deeds of glory, Death
Stretched forth his hand, and slew.

See where the dinted helmet shows
The fury of the blow;
And tattered garments, eloquent,
Speak of the furnace-glow.

If strong men weep for very grief,
Will God despise their mood?
They thank Him with a voiceless heart
For one so nobly good.

Our hero hath not died in vain ;

For as he ceased to be,

He gathered, in his death, the crown
Of immortality.

Move, mournful cavalcade, and bear
His body to the grave:

England shall keep his prowess green-
Best tribute for the brave.

Fade, all ye splendours of the great!
Here, incorrupt by time,

Stands, towering o'er the wreck of years,
A memory sublime!

GEORGE SMITH,

LIFE IN LONDON.

T was a pleasant morning in the month of February when I, passing as a parting gift from the pedlar to Kitty, bade adieu to the home in which so much kindness had been experienced. The vicar of the parish, one of the first to espouse the cause of the reformed poacher, had so successfully exercised his good offices among the benevolent, as not only to obtain enough money to give both father and daughter a free passage to Australia, but to present each with a suitable outfit into the bargain. When our luggage-I say our luggage, because a large parcel of seed, also a spare cage for my accommodation, formed part-was stowed into the cart by which it had been arranged we were to journey to the station, it was found that no room remained for anybody but the driver. No help for it, my mistress and her father must follow on foot. Such being the case, Ben, and the dame also, although we had a good three miles before us, insisted on forming an escort. The man in charge of the luggage offered to take me, but Kitty loved me too well to allow such a thing. An early train was to convey us to London, where a big ship was waiting to carry us over the sea. A bluish-grey mist was lifting from the meadows as we gained the high road. All the hedgerows were decorated as I

had never beheld them. Every branch and spray was filigreed with hoar-frost in the most delicate manner. I had noticed a few birds moping about as we set forth, and pitied them from my heart, for it struck me that life in the bush during the two months through which we had just passed must have been very hard to endure. However, now that the sun was gaining more power, fresh life seemed to animate my kind. Several times I was greeted by a chirp or two, for my mistress had in no way covered up my wire abode, so that I could easily see and be seen, and more than once a little run of song came from an adjacent bush. In about an hour we were at the station, and never shall I forget the start I received on entering. As we reached the platform, and while I was busy noting down the many novelties presenting themselves, suddenly a shriek, wild and fierce, nearly made me jump out of my feathers. I had heard Ben tell stories about savage Indians giving a war-whoop, when they were on the point of dispatching a victim, and I fully expected to find myself scalped the next minute. Instead, I immediately beheld the author of the noise-a monster with a long tail, and which, like a snake I had heard the pedlar talk about, appeared to have a rattle in every joint-dash past so swiftly that the mere wind from him took away my breath and well-nigh precipitated me to the bottom of my cage. I recovered

from the shock to learn that by a similar monster we were to travel to London. I gave myself up for lost. A little reasoning will often dispel a great deal of fear. On looking about, I began to reflect that, however alarmed I might be, nobody else appeared in the least disturbed; on the contrary, most of the passengers looked happy. Reassured by the presence of my mistress and her father, I accepted my place without a single flutter. A whistle sounded. Three snorts, one long ‘0—0—0—sh—sh!" and off we went.

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Our journey took several hours, and our stoppages were numerous, but I found plenty of amusement in watching the departure and arrival of various passengers. On reaching the terminus, we were met by Ben's great aunt, and a great aunt she was, for she stood over six feet high, and was wide in proportion. This truly fine old woman at once offered to lead Kitty and myself to her abode and take care of us, until such time as Peter Croft should succeed in getting his luggage transferred to the ship. The offer was accepted. I felt anxious to be out of the station, for the confusion bewildered me. People were pouring out and in-porters running hither and thither-iron-wheeled trucks clattering up and down-bells ringing and engines puffing and panting. Everything and everybody seemed out of breath. Kitty looked as much troubled as myself.

On gaining the open air, instead of abating, my bewilderment increased. Added to crowds of people pressing hither and thither, as if their lives depended on their speed, helter-skelter came omnibuses and cabs, coaches and carts, wagons and drays. I had never seen anything like it in the country. Folks took things easier there, and, it struck me, looked a great deal healthier and happier, for here everybody except the very young appeared more or less pale! and anxious. A dexterous turn, after a ten minutes' walk, took us out of the highway into a much less frequented thoroughfare; this conveyed us into another still less frequented. Here, at No. 72, our conductor resided. The room into which we were shown was small, but clean and orderly, and my young mistress was welcomed to the best it possessed. In the course of the afternoon the farrier presented himself. His luggage was safely on board, and he, Kitty, and myself were to follow with little delay, as there was every chance of the vessel getting down the river early on the morrow. Accordingly, after tea, we all three set out in the direction of the Docks. Fresh wonders! A general illumination had taken place, making quite a land of enchantment. Shop after shop was one blaze of light. In this window were revealed fabrics of the most beautiful patterns and colours, in that all kinds of artistic confectionery; in the next a glory of jewellery and plate that none could dream of who had not beheld. The pedlar's box, which had so awoke my wonder, was as nothing to this a mere glowworm to midday sun. Again,

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along the pathway of smooth flags, every few yards, brought you to a tall iron post, on the top of which, in a clean glass lantern, burned a broad, clear flame. We made our way over London Bridge and Tower Hill to the Docks. On reaching the vessel we found much confusion upon the deck, but on getting below, things seemed to my mind worse. I was anything but favourably impressed with either the company or the place. The ceiling was low, the people noisy. Being the fore-cabin the furniture was very plain, consisting mainly of a long bench or table, over which a couple of oil-lamps were suspended, and about which were congregated some twenty men, women, and children. There was an odour pervading the place such as I had never before experienced, and such as certainly was not to be desired. The first thought of my dear mistress was to find a hook whereon to hang my cage; her next, to give me a fresh supply of seed and water. After that she tied a handkerchief about my residence, and bade me good night. Fatigued with the day's adventures, I took to my upper perch, and was soon in dreams wandering over the scenes of my earlier days. (To be continued.)

"THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. 112. Reference is made in the New Testament to the act of the apostles after Christ's resurrection in obedience to this command, "Handle me and see,” &c. &c. Where?

113. Once only is the Book of Job directly quoted in the New Testament as a part of Holy Scripture. Give the passage.

114. The name Joseph is given to the whole Israelite people at large. Quote the passage.

115. How many psalms are specially quoted in the New Testament as setting forth the work of the Messiah ?

His

"The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants." This is the first of the parables in which God appears as a king. We are the servants with whom he takes account. This he does when he makes us feel our nothingness in his presence; that our trespasses have placed a wide gulf between us and him; and when he startles us into knowing that our fancied security is resting on no solid foundation; in a word, that there is something amiss in our accounts with him.

"Ten thousand talents." How vast this debt was we may see by comparing it with other sums mentioned in the Bible. Twenty-nine talents of gold were used in the construction of the tabernacle. David prepared for the house of God three thousand talents; and Hezekiah paid thirty talents, the tribute put upon him by the King of Assyria. That a servant should owe such a vast debt may best be explained by supposing him to have been in charge of one of the provinces of the king's dominions, and accountable for the revenues derived from it to the royal treasury. This he failed to do, and so was brought" into the presence of his lord.

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"His lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife, and children." The theory and practice of the Roman law was that a debtor's person, his wife, children, and all that he had were part of the property of his creditor, and that in case of necessity, one and all could be sold to clear off the debt. The Mosaic law allowed the selling of an insolvent debtor; and that the children might be taken as bondservants is clear from the circumstances under which Elisha wrought the miracle of increasing the widow's oil (2 Kings iv. 1). The dreadful command that he and all belonging to him shall be sold, is the expression of God's right and power to cast out from his presence, and to deliver over into bondage, all those who have come short of his glory.

"The servant therefore fell down and worshipped him." Having heard his lord's commands, he sees that there is but one course left open to him; he becomes a suppliant. The act of worship consisted in prostrating himself before him on the ground, and

"The same servant went out, and found one of his fellowservants, which owed him an hundred pence." He who had just had his enormous debt cancelled, goes out from the presence of his master, and commits an outrage on one of his fellow-servants, who owed him a very paltry sum, when compared with the magnitude of the debt he had himself owed, which was one million two hundred and fifty thousand times as great as what was owed to him. This marks out for us, in a very clear way, the difference between men's trespasses against us, and our trespasses against God. The former are to the latter as one hundred pence are to ten thousand talents: the difference is truly infinite! The fellow-servant used to his creditor the very same words he had used when confronted with his lord, whom he had so wronged, and by which he had moved his compassion. But they now fall on his ears unheeded, they have no weight with him; he will not give the time for which he himself so earnestly begged, but having seized him by the throat, he seems not to relax his grasp till he consigns him to the prison, there to remain till his debt is paid. He who has been so freely forgiven, will not forgive.

"Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellowservant, even as I had pity on thee ?” This is the second time he is in his lord's presence on this occasion-first as a debtor, and in confinement of some kind, for we read that he was "loosed" (verse 27). Now he comes before him to answer for his crime of receiving pardon for his own offence, and almost at the same instant refusing to extend pardon to one who needed it as much-of having received mercy, and remaining still unmerciful.

"He delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him." The tormentors are those who shall make the life of the prisoner bitter to him, who, by sufferings inflicted on him, will compel him to confess what secret stores-if any-he has laid up for his own use; but the ten thousand talents was a sum that never could be paid.

"So likewise," &c. These are words of earnest warning with which the Saviour concludes this parable With the same rigour as this ungrateful, unmerciful, unforgiving servant was treated by his master, shall we, if we act a similar part, be treated by our Father which is in heaven.