POOR old Frankey Vivian was sinking fast. Shaken by his cough and with failing breath, he sat propped with pillows. His features were pinched up, and a look of exhaustion had settled on his face, but the old light and joy shone out more radiant than ever. The long years of climbing as a miner, the foul air of deep underground, and the quick change from the heat to the bleak winds that swept the surface, had nearly done their work. He could be with his friends on earth but a little while longer, a few days at most.

Daniel Quorm was a daily visitor, sitting by the bedside for an hour or more; the bright eye that looked over the broad-rimmed spectacles often dimmed with tears. To-day the Bible was open at the twentythird Psalm. But it was Frankey who with husky and broken voice was speaking now. The wasted hand was held out toward Dan'el; and as he spoke a strange new vigour came into his voice and manner.

'A little while, my dear Leader; only a little while an' I shall be at home. Why, it makes me feel quite well again for to think about it. Last night I was lyin' somehow 'tween sleepin' an' wakin,' I s'pose 'twas a kind of a dream, but I could see the old friends a-lookin' out for me. There's old uncle Jem Polsue-he has been up there goin' on for two year; he's keepin' a look out for me, I know. An' so is the old Mestur Trewhela. It seemed to me like as if I could almost hear them talkin'.' 'Bless thee, dear Frankey, thou 'rt

VOL. II.-SIXTH SERIES.

near enough to hear them, I do believe,' said Dan'el very softly.

'Seemin' to me,' Frankey went on, 'that I could see old uncle Jem comin' along the golden street, an' up come Mest' Trewhela, an' shakes hands with him.

""How are'e, Sir?" says uncle Jem. ""Wonderful," says Mest' Trewhela, "wonderful, never so well in all my life. How are you, uncle Jem?"

'Says uncle Jem: "How am I, Mest' Trewhela, how am I! why, I do hardly know myself: an' I've a-got to keep on sayin'-Be you the old Jem Polsue from down theare to Bray? be you? 'Cause he had got rheumatics dreadful, he had-an' you can fly right round the world for your Blessed Lord, an' never so much as feel it. Why, he hadn't scarce any breath-an' you can go praisin' the glorious Lord day an' night in His holy Temple. It can't be you, sure 'nough, uncle Jem. But 'tis, bless the Lord-'tis, an' no mistake. That's how I be, Mest' Trewhela, 'zactly."

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""Well," says Mest Trewhela, "seen any body from down our way lately, have 'e, uncle Jem?" ""No," says uncle Jem, "I haven't, Mest' Trewhela. But I been thinkin' that 'tis most time for the dear old Frankey Vivian to be comin' up here, is n't it?"

""Iss, Jem, iss" says Mest' Trewhela. "He's bound to be up here before very long. How he will praise the Blessed Lord when he do get his health again!"

And I lifted up my voice and

D

Surely He will not long delay:
I hear His Spirit cry,
"Arise, My love, make haste away!
Go, get thee up, and die."

'O what hath Jesus bought for me!
Before my ravished eyes
Rivers of life Divine I see,

And trees of Paradise.

'I see a world of spirits bright

Who reap the pleasures there; They all are robed in purest white, And conquering palms they bear.

'They drink the vivifying stream,

They pluck the ambrosial fruit, And each records the praise of Him Who tuned his golden lute.

We must get up very high before we can start. Too high, I'm 'fraid. The Lord! why, the earth is His and the fulness thereof. The Lord! why, His name is called " Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." Come, David, what great thing hast thou to say of this glorious Lord?'

Dan'el turned again to the Bible, the short, sturdy forefinger guiding his eye. 'The Lord is my—my, hear that, old friend-that this mighty Lord should know anything of you or me, or should care for us. My what, David?-my King? my Redeemer? my Judge? my God? The Lord is my Shepherd. Ah! that brings Him down right close to us, Frankey. Shepherd! why, how homely it makes Him ! doesn't it? You an' I can start along with Him, and go all the way too, Frankey.' 'Bless Him,' whispered Frankey, feasting on the words, My Shepherd! why, 'tis like as if He'd only got one sheep to care for, an' that one is me. My Shepherd.'

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'So 'tis, dear Frankey. I'm fine an' glad for thy sake. An' then you see there's one thing He's bound to do. A shepherd may please himself about a hundred things: he may look after his bit o' garden, or see to his house; but he must look after his sheep-must. He can't anyhow please himself about that.'

Again the sharp eye turned to the Bible, and there was a moment's silence.

'But stop, Frankey. I forgot that; an' I often think about it too. We must begin at the beginnin'. This is a Psalm of David; so it do say. I like that. I've seen a lovely picture of a very fine young gentleman all drest out in his best clothes, lyin' in the shade of a tree, among the buttercups an' daisies, playin' music to the birds an' butterflies, an' the sheep scattered about in the prettiest groups

you ever saw-and they called it a shepherd. Pooh,-all a pack o' moonshine. Like as if the sun never set, an' the wind never blew a gale, an' the rain never came down-like as if the sheep never went astray, an' a pretty figure that young gentleman would be a climbin' over hedges an' ditches, an' furze an' bramble! Or like as if there were no wolves an' no robbers. No, this isn't all pipin' an' pictures. Tis a Psalm o' David; an' he knew different from that. He knew what it was to drop the harp an' to cudgel a bear. He had come out of Lis comfortable corner an' killed a lion, David had. He had gone wanderin' over the moors, clamberin' over the rocks an' down the cliffs in search of the stray sheep, and then he'd come home in the fierce heat carryin' the runaway 'pon his shoulder. He knew the rub of it, an' the work of it, David did-knew what silly things sheep is, an' what a time of it the shepherd has got with 'em sometimes. And he says, The Lord is my Shepherd. It means a brave deal more than most folks make out of it, I know.'

'Goon, my dear Leader,' whispered Frankey, as Dan'el paused, 'I do dearly love to hear about it.'

Dan'el went on again, this time breaking out more cheerily.

'I shall not want. Pretty boasting that for a sheep, Frankey, a silly sheep. Hold thy tongue, do, thou vain sheep-why, thou canst not do anything for thyself. Thou canst not run like a hare, or go like a horse, or burrow like a rabbit, or fly like a bird, or hide like even a worm

Then turning to the Book, Dan'el read on with deep tenderness :

HE maketh me to lie down in

green pastures ; IE leadeth me.

Sum

What! HE leadeth thee! Then thou art right, sheep, quite right. Boast again, an' louder still. mer an' winter, floods an' drought, wolf an' robber-not one o' them can touch thee: HE leadeth thee! then thou art safe, sure 'nough. He will take right good care o' thee, weak as thou art.'

'O! Thou art a blessed, blessed Lord,' said Frankey, rapturously.

'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: That's worth turnin' over for a minute or two, Frankey. It do mean the young green grass when 'tis springin' up all fresh an' new; an' that's what it means in the marginpastures of tender grass. There, Frankey, think o' that, dear. The good Lord gives His sheep the very best. Common trade an' poor stuff won't do for His flock at all.'

'Just like Him, dear Leader. Bless His name,' and old Frankey's face shone with joy.

And then to lie down too. Isn't

that like Him? I expect that sheep stand up so long as they're hungry, and then when they've had enough they lie down. Ah, He gives His sheep the very best; but not just a taste of it, He fills them with it. That's like Him, too, isn't it?' "Zactly, my dear Leader, the dear Lord.'

'Beside the still waters. There's safety, too. Peace an' plenty for

'Nobody else could help us much if they could go with us, could they, Frankey? They don't know any more about it than we do our own selves. But the Blessed Lord has been down through it, and do know the way right out into the light an' glory 'pon the other side. And now He is come back to take us by the hand. "Fear not," saith He, "I will go with thee and deliver thee." And then our hearts can cry out : "Lord, I will fear no evil, for THOU art with me." I do fancy, Frankey, that perhaps that night when the disciples were toilin' hard to bring the boat to the land, and they were beginnin' to be afraid because the waves were comin' into the boat, perhaps one or two of them said, "Don't 'ce be afraid, comrades." But the man's own face was pale enough, and his very voice shook, and he was so much frightened as anybody. And may be that some of the folks ashore saw them in the early mornin' an' cried out, "Don't'ee be afraid at all you'll do it." But it was all very well for them to talk like that; they were safe ashore. Ah, then came a voice: "Be not afraid—it is I." Then "there was a great calm" and they were at land directly.'

Thou art with me, dear Master,' cried Frankey, as his face lit up with joy.

Then Dan'el rose. 'Now, old friend, I've talked to thee long enough,' and he closed the Book; 'thou must not have any more than just a word o' prayer.'

'Well, thank'ee, dear Leader,' said Frank wistfully; 'but I do wish you'd go on a bit more.'

'Nay, Frankey, I won't send thee to heaven faster than thou art going, for I shall find it hard work to give thee up. But there keep the word in thy heart an' feed 'pon it: "I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me." I thought of thee the other day down to Redburn-Peter's fairday it was. There were a lot o' bullocks goin' by with long horns an' fierce terrible lookin'. A geneyes, tleman was comin' along with his little maid, an' when the women folk began to run into the doorways out o' their road, I heard the gentleman say, "Aren't you afraid, Jeanie?" And the little maid looked up in his face and laughed an' shook his hand :

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Why, no, father," says she, "of course not; why, you're here, you know." Frankey, thou hast got hold o' the right Hand, and He will keep tight hold o' thine. Thou canst look death an' hell in the face an' say, "I will fear no evil: for Thou art with

me.

CHAPTER II.

FRANKEY GETS INTO DOUBTING

CASTLE.

AGAIN Dan'el sat at Frankey's side. The two or three days that had passed had brought no change, except that the joyous light had gone, and now there was a look of weary sadness, very strange on Frankey's face. The enemy had been harassing the dying man and to-day the talk was of gloom and doubts.

'Dan'el,' Frankey whispered hoarsely, the old enemy's been at me fierce an' furious. You can't think what dreadful things he do keep tellin' me all night long as I'm lyin' here, in the darkness an' stillness.'

'Bless thee, my dear old Frankey,