This was more than William Rees could bear. He shouted-and his whole soul seemed to go out in that shout-Down with it now, then.' I was at that service myself, and I shall never forget it. The whole congregation were in tears, and William Rees was in raptures singing old Simeon's song, 'Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' You often remind me of old William Rees, Hugh, you get quite impatient of earth when you think about heaven."

A smile passed over the old man's face; he and his friend Caleb bade the company Good-night' and 'A Happy New Year,' and arm-in-arm left the smithy.

Just as they were leaving the snow began to fall thickly, the strong breeze, already blowing, speedily freshened into a gale, and everything seemed to promise a dark, cold, and boisterous night. The old year was growing angry as it drew near its close and seemed to threaten, in the extremity of helpless peevishness, to die in a rage.

The company separated earlier than usual for their homes that night, and Shadrach and his son were left to finish the work they had on hand, and thus add another year's toil to the many that had been completed in the old smithy. It was half-past nine before Shadrach and Jenkin put aside their aprons, closed the door of the workshop and went into the house to partake of their evening meal.

CHAPTER XIII.

bugh Roberts in "The Cloud."

ILD and weird was the night in which the old

year died and the new year was born. The whole creation seemed to groan and travail together in pain in the double conflict of birth and death. When at last the old year expired it was with a desolate sigh that rent the air as if the soul of things was passing away with it; and when the

new year was born in the dead of night it was received into the cold snowy swaddling clothes which the wild hurricane and blinding storm had snatched from the storehouses of the clouds, and hurled recklessly on the desolate earth. It was a night of desolation everywhere, but at Pentremawr it was doubly so. In that old homestead there was a night within a night.

Scarcely had Hugh Roberts

returned home from the smithy early in the evening than his daughter, his sole stay for many years in the home, who throughout life had suffered from a serious affection of the heart, and who had been complaining of a slight indisposition during the day, sank suddenly into her chair, became unconscious, and showed unmistakeable signs that the feeble heart had at length collapsed in the exercise of its functions, and that soon it would be at rest for ever.

A messenger was at once sent on horse-back for the doctor, who lived two miles away, but when he arrived he shook his head and said there was no hope, that the life was fast ebbing, and that the heart was far too weak ever to recover its action. The storm grew more and more furious without, but to Hugh it was only the deep undertone of the more awful storm that raged within. He remembered the time when, years ago, his wife had passed away in that room, and when his daughter, then a little girl, softened her pillow, and moistened her lips in the dying hour. That service he insisted upon performing himself now, as there was no hand so tender, or heart so loving as his. He forgot all about the dying year as he stooped pensively over his dying daughter, but to those who stood round it was a question which would expire first. Moment after moment passed away, and each threatened to be the last. At length as the clock struck the death-knell of the old year the dying form upon the bed gave one deep sigh and all was over. It was an awful moment. There was a silence in the room like the pause of death. It lasted for a few seconds, but to those who were present it seemed like an age. Meanwhile, Hugh's countenance changed; the anxious, cloudy look melted away into a serene, placid expression as he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and in clear tones exclaimed, "Shall I receive good at the hand of God, and shall I not receive evil ?" "I was dumb, I opened

not my mouth, because thou didst it." While he spoke a soft, mellow light passed over his countenance as if God had smiled upon it, and thus illumined the face of his aged servant with the light of His own countenance. There it shone in the chamber of death like the face of an angel.

Early on the following morning the sad news spread rapidly through the neighbourhood. Shadrach was one of the first to hear it. Immediately he went to John Vaughan, and both hurried to Pentre-mawr to see "dear old Hugh."

When they arrived Hugh was seated in his arm chair beneath the large open chimney in the kitchen, looking steadfastly into the fire that blazed upon the hearth.

"Taken into the cloud' again, my dear old friend," said Shadrach, as the tears flowed down.

"Yes, my boy," replied Hugh tenderly, "but the good Lord is with me in the cloud. I was just now thinking about the words, I will appear in the cloud upon the mercy-seat.' I never saw so much beauty in those words as I do now. It's well worth going right into the cloud to see Him and His mercy seat. This is the second time I have been in it, and both times I have found Him there."

"Quite true, Hugh," said John Vaughan, "and as I heard Mr. Roberts, Wrexham, once say, 'Every cloud that rises in this world leads toward that mercy-seat.'"

"Yes," replied Hugh, "even the cloud that rises from the dark valley of the shadow of death leads to the mercyseat and rests over it as a symbol of God's presence. Every cloud I have ever seen has had God in it. He comes to us every day with clouds,' and it is that fact that makes them bearable to us. That's my comfort now. I heard that sermon to which you referred, John, and I remember, too, that the preacher spoke about the clouds which gathered once above the head of the great Saviour, clouds which had no mercy-seat connected with them.

God did not appear in that terrible cloud above Calvary; the Saviour of man cried beneath its chilling shadow, 'My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me;' yet it was there that a mercy-seat was associated once for ever with the darkest clouds of our mortal life."

Just as Hugh was uttering these words his old friend Caleb came in, shook hands with him, and looking affectionately into his face said, "No chastisement for the present seemeth joyous, but grievous, nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the fruit of righteousness unto them that are exercised thereby.' That's a precious truth for you now, Hugh."

"Yes," replied Hugh, "and it is in times of chastisement that we find such truths precious to us; they are like the stars which come out in the night and cheer us in the darkness."

"I heard Mr. Herber Evans, Carnarvon," said Caleb, "a short time ago refer to those words of the Apostle in his own chapel, on the occasion of his occupying his pulpit after a very long and trying illness. He said, 'Let us always remember that as there are justice and goodness in God's character so He has created us not to make us happy merely, but also to develope in us nobility of being. That is a key which has of late opened a very difficult lock in my earthly life. I am not here for the sake of happiness -but for the sake of developing a good character. More than that, it is by forming in us a noble nature that God gives us heavenly bliss on earth. Now the formation of such a character costs us all very much. It is through much tribulation that we must not only go to heaven but also possess a heavenly character here. It is a costly thing to form in us such a nature as you and I should possess, but it is worth all the expenditure. It is worth. going through every discipline, brother, in order to become

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