and imbecile manners painfully impressed the considerate and pitiful. They remembered, too, the devoted attention of the young girl who called him father, and who untiringly yielded to his wishes, accompanied him in his objectless rambles, plucked daisies and buttercups in their season, and other wild flowers in theirs, and made them up into nosegays, or wove them into chains, or twisted them into balls, to gratify for the moment his wayward and capricious fancy; and who, at other times, soothed his restlessness by reading to him aloud: not that he comprehended what he thus heard, but there was apparently a strong though gentle charm in her soft, sweet voice.

They remembered, also, the mother of this young lady, and the wife of the poor afflicted man, who, two or three times a-week, was seen entering the village and taking her way-sometimes alone, but oftener accompanied by one or two younger children—to the cottage where her husband lodged; and they did not soon forget the sorrowful yet peaceful expression of her countenance. They pitied her too, and they would have pitied her yet more had they known that the object of her constant solicitude was unconscious of her love, and care, and hopes, and prayers; that his wandering glances never conveyed to his broken thoughts the fact that this frequent visitor was the Ellen of his younger days, the wife of his affection; and that the tones of her voice never stirred up in his disabled mind the memory of the past.

Yet more and more would they have pitied the next to widowed mother, had they known how great and manifold were the struggles of this heroic Christian woman to sustain the tottering fabric of her husband's raising, to re-establish the failing credit of his trade, to keep his good name untarnished. How, day after day, and week after week, when her heart was torn with anguish for him, she yet bent her strong energies to mastering the details of his business, unravelling its perplexities, and setting it in order. And how, month after month, she guided its progress with discretion and a steady hand, and with reliance on God's help, until danger was overpast, and the strained, overloaded bark, lightened of some of its burdens, had ridden out the threatening gale, and floated in comparatively calm and peaceful water.

No more Sunday trading; the shop was never partially opened on the Lord's day morning, from the day that her husband was removed from

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sight and sound of business." She lost many customers; but Ellen never swerved. They said, "This will never do. If this is the way Mrs. R- is going to manage her husband's affairs, there will soon be an end of it." Ellen heard this again and again, and she did not reply, but neither did she waver. She "went and told Jesus," and she had strength and help imparted that they knew not of. She cast her burden upon the Lord, and he sustained her. He sent her help out of the sanctuary, and strengthened her out of

Zion. Her ways pleased him, and he made even her enemies to be at peace with her. And thus two years passed away-years, truly, of toil and watching, and multiplied responsibilities and cares, but as truly of providential deliverances and unexpected supplies; of faithful reliance on the power and love of Jehovah, and of yet more faithful performances on his part of the promises of his word to all who trust in him.

Were there times and seasons in these two years when the brave-hearted woman would have fainted, unless she had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living? No doubt there were. Were there other times when she thought and sighed and said, "If it had not been for that sinful Sunday traffic"? Ah, yes; she could scarcely think of her afflicted husband and her lost son, and not think of this. But she did not dwell upon it. She could sing of mercy as well as of judgment; and she loved best the livelier and more hopeful strain. Who shall blame her in this?

One day, when Ellen had stolen a few hours to visit her husband and daughter in their country lodgings, she was surprised and agitated so as to be almost overcome by hope and trembling joy, to find herself remembered by Charles, who seemed like one waking from a long dreamy sleep. His speech was indeed unconnected and incoherent, but Ellen was no longer the stranger she had been to him through two long years; his mind

and memory were not so perfectly a blank, and the current of former feelings and affections seemed to be flowing slowly back into the channel which had so long been dry, and parched, and bare. His faculties became gradually stronger day by day.

"You have endured much for me and from me. Ellen, dear Ellen, may God reward you," he said, one day, as he clasped her hand, and raised it to his lips, while tears gushed from his eyes, no longer mindless in their expression.

Mr. R's recovery, though gradual, was permanent. It was long, indeed, before he could recall the past, except in fitful and distorted pictures of memory; but at length full consciousness returned, and with it came deep humiliation before God, and gratitude for mercies received. And while the voice of his heavenly Father and Saviour was saying, "Go, and sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee," the humbled penitent was enabled to reply, It is good for me that I was afflicted. O Lord, I will praise thee: though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou comfortest me. The Lord hath chastened me sore: but he hath not given me over unto death. I have gone astray like a lost sheep; but I will no longer forget thy commandments.*

* Ps. cxix. 71; Is. xii. 1; Ps. cxviii. 18; cxix. 176.

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THE YOUNG CLERK'S TEMPTATION.

When I said, my foot slippeth; thy mercy, O Lord, held me up."

"AH! you have never been thus tempted, Charles: Ан! -I have: you do not know anything about it experimentally-I do."

The speaker was an aged man. More than seventy years had scattered their tokens on him. His hair was silvery white, and his brow was wrinkled. But his eye was clear, and his step firm, so that there was no need for him to lean heavily on the arm of his companion. His hand, however, rested lightly on that arm, but more in affectionate familiarity than for support, as the two walked together in the pleasant grounds of a suburban villa, of which the first speaker was owner.

Between Mr. Aylmer and his grandson Charles there was a difference of fifty years in age, but a stranger might have seen confidence and love in their intercourse. It is not true that age and youth have no mutual sympathies.

"You have seen a great deal more of life and the world than I have, sir," said Charles, in reply to his grandfather; "but I am sure you would