'She came to my bedside, but she doesn't belong here now,' he said, simply. She came out of the Light to see me, and she smiled and went back into it. She's with the Blessed Saviour, and I've counted many hours out that He hasn't come for me, but so I did for wifie; and she's come, and He will.'

"Say, "Come, Lord Jesus." That won't tire you like counting.'

Now, who preached from that in Brunswick Chapel?' he asked, with an expression of such extreme perplexity that it was evident a great train of thought had been started to the awakened mind, and it taxed all nurse's powers to keep him from following it up; for no one unacquainted with such phases of human weakness can realize how wearying and distressing is the effort that the attendant has to make to keep the patient undisturbed.

At last he fell back on the words, 'Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly,' repeating them as often and as mechanically as he was wont to count.

Nurse promised the ladies that if there were any change in the night, she would call them. It was her night for rest. She was resolute on having that with regularity, but this time she insisted on deviating from her rule. She entreated Miss Stewart to retire, but did not tell her that she intended to sit up.

The night crept on, and it was so like other nights that she ceased to apprehend anything unusual. She lay down in the morning on her sofacouch, and fell into the sleep of exhaustion; but when waking late, she said, as she had so often done, 'I

wonder if we are alive,' she found that the hand in hers was clammy and cold, for he had been taken and she left.

Over such transitions from death in life, to the Life that swallows up mortality, who can weep? Yet the flood of warm memories that rushes on the mind at such times, brings with it the tender tribute of tears; and no one could look on that peaceful, venerable face as it rested on its coffin pillow without seeing thereon the trace of palmier days, ay, and the assurance that now he was comforted for all the years wherein he had seen evil.

The funeral over, nurse's question of 'What next?' was put aside by Miss Stewart. After so many years of faithful service she must rest and recruit a little before laying plans for the future.

Spending the whole of the Sunday after the funeral at her cousin's, nurse dwelt lovingly on every little incident that had transpired during the last few days of her master's life. Bellaby smoked his pipe and listened to her with a mental conclusion as to the satisfaction it might give her to be dwelling on a subject so familiar as the death of a man of eighty-four years, whose heart and brain had withered beneath the hand of time, long before the vital mechanism succumbed. Nurse did not know what his reflections were, but she said:

'I declare if there was nothing else to make one believe in the soul and in heaven and in happy spirits and in Jesus being the First and the Last to them all, the death of such as Mr. Stewart might lead one to believe in it. How do you account for it,' she said, turning to her cousin, 'that mere babes and old people, that have almost lost their minds, if they die in the Lord, know so well where they're going to? They nearly always wake up to feel He's near, and so many of them see those that have gone before,

just as he saw his dear wife, though he'd quite forgotten she was dead.'

'O, it's all a matter o' coorse,' said Bellaby. If ye'd give hauf a dozen fowlk opium, an' watch 'em an' listen to their talk, ye'd hev sum o't' prattiest aangel visits ye iver heard tell on i' 'em Memoirs.'

'I know what opium is a sight deal better than you,' said nurse, indignantly. You needn't go to set opium against what I've been telling you, for even my old Dear had it given him occasionally. No, I'll tell you what it is: I believe that God enlarges the vision of His people before they die, and gives them to possess their soul, as it were, to take from them the fear of death, as a sign that the soul they committed to Him in health has been safe in His hands through delirium and disease and whatever else has come against them. It's a sign like, a token.'

'Yes, what my muther used t' call a token for good,' said Matty, who was present.

'And it's not only a token for good to them,' said nurse, 'for Mr. Stewart's death was like a translation; but it's a token to those they leave behind. I'm sure Miss Stewart is so thankful that her father knew her again and that he spoke of going to be with Jesus.'

'Weel,' said Bellaby, 'an' what's cordial to wun 'll refresh anuther as mich as a spurt o' lavender wad a dusty elephant's hide.'

'O, well, lavender water isn't meant for elephants!' said nurse, closing her eyes and swaying gently backward and forward in the old fashion, nor are God's tokens for them who are too hard of heart to take them in.'

She had nearly used a stronger word, but it would have sounded severe, and severity was no part of her character.

'It's no use argeyin',' said Bellaby. 'Ah allus let you wimmen b'lieve

what you like, 's long as it maks ye comfortable; but if ah fahnd it mak ye uneasy as t'owd stoaries hev maade sum fowlk, then ah'd do mi best to show ye how ye'd beean takken in, an' what a kind o' God it was ye believed in. Nubbody knows the trash 'at hes beean swallered under t' name o' Religion !'

For the remainder of the day's visit, nurse's bearing towards her cousin comported with a certain Scriptural admonition relative to the distribution of pearls. She went to chapel, as did Matty and the little girl. Bellaby was left alone, and not in the best temper. These apparently supernatural manifestations to dying people were no doubt to be accounted for; but how?

He turned over the pages of the chart he had chosen to guide him through this mazy world, and read the chapter on dreams, as being more akin to the subject of his thoughts than any other, but his oracle failed to help him to any satisfactory conclusion upon things not dreamed of in our philosophy.

.Theer was a toime when ah believed it mesen; bud it maade meh miserable. Ah were glad eniff t' shaake it off. Hahsumiver, ah do believe 'at them as gets comfort aht on 't hes t'best on 't. It maks 'em believe things is rightest when they go moast agaain 'em; it keeaps 'em up when they cum to die, an' efter they are deead it's all wun.'

'Is it?' was a question that, starting from the depths of his soul, sounded like a mocking voice. And since all men must die, what support was left to him in the hour of mortal helplessness and anguish? A fairly honest life did not exclude the consciousness of something wrong, unworthy, base in the constitution of him, which must be the experience, in certain moments, of every unregenerate He could not imagine angelic visitants, smiling on his dying pillow

man.

and pointing up! or a mysterious peace and rapture gliding into his soul ! He thought he could do without them, as unreal save to the imagination; but what if they were indeed messengers from Him Whom he had rejected, and in their place came-?

He took up his hat and went out to spend the remainder of the evening at the Sheep and Shears. He was sure he was going daft. Politics would be a healthy diversion to his mind, if only his co-patriots cared more for 'argeyment an' less for t' glass.'

If the man was SO sure of his ground, what had he to be uneasy about? Why did the chatter of the simple souls who thought otherwise discompose him? Is it not because 'there is a spirit in man; and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth them understanding'?

Matty never knew the master so bad to get on with as he was the next week. She supposed it was because she'd puttin in her word o' Sundah neeght; for he bantered her mercilessly on her easy credulity, and the banter savoured of spite.

He made his knee a rocking-horse for little Emma, and rode her 'My lady to London,' to some odd jingles of rhyme, which Matty could perceive to be a blasphemous parody on the story of the Eastern Magi.

'Nah, mester, if ye teich t' little lass that, ye'll hev summat to answer for 'at ye'll wish ye'd left aloan,' she said.

'Naah, lass, that's t' creeam o' t' Bible, skimmed off by t' philosopher Paine, a man wi' moor sense i' his little finger nor youre Ministers hes i' theer top stoaries.'

'If Mester Paine thinks that's i' t' Bible, philosophers maun be queer sort o' fellers,' said Matty. 'He owt t' hev knawn what was in't 'fore he maade gaam on't to other fowlk. Ah wish ye'd let meh shaw you, mester.'

Ah read them tales afoor tha were born, Matty.'

'But won't ye reead t' Testament agaain, mester?'

'Reead it accordin' t't' Church fowlk, as believes in seeasons an' forms? or t' Calvinists, as think it wuth God's while to put childer loike this i' everlastin' torment, becos He didn't elect 'em to be saaved when He first thowt o' makin' a world? or mun ah reead it accordin' t' John Wesley? Ah'd loike that, for it's fine an' eeasy. A feller may be as bad as he's a mind, he'll be all reeght i' t' end, so long as he believes in a Man 'at died eighteen hundred sin'.' years Mester, if ye will talk loike that,

ah maun leeave off sittin' wheer ye are,' said the girl, firmly, for ah moant sit i't' seeat o' t' scorner. Ye'd better go to t' chapel an' hear what they really does preach. Ye'll find that believin's noan seah eeasy woaark. Why, ye can't for t' loife o' ye believe till yere willin' to forsaake sin an' sarve God wi' yere whole

heart.'

'Then do you believe, Matty?' he asked, with a cynical expression of the lips that was intended for her confusion. It was a trying moment for the girl, but it is astonishing how seldom real honesty and simplicity misses its mark.

'Ah doan't allus believe as ah owt,' she said; 'bud ah've leearned this, mester, from wun ah'd liefer leearn on nor Mester Paine, if he gets trash aht o't' Bible 'at nubbody butiver can find there. Ivery minnit 'at ah keeaps lookin' tul Him 'at died on 't Cross He saaves meh. Bud, 0! mester, whativer you do, doan't you go to offend a little un. Doan't you put thowts in Emma's mind 'at'll keeap 'er from lookin' ti Christ when shoo cums to understan' things better. It fair cuts meh ti t' heart to be teeachin' 'er 'er prayers, an' hev you, 'at's as good as an oan feyther tul 'er, sayin' things afoor 'er as may keeap 'er frae growin' up good.'

This energetic protest cost Matty

a shower of tears; but as Bellaby did not blame her for teaching the child to say prayers, and as, in deference to her feelings, he was a little more cautious as to what he said before her, she believed that it had not been made in vain. In a few weeks, nurse retired to quiet rooms of her own on a small pension, intending to supplement it by nursing occasionally in the neighbourhood, rendering assistance when required at the hospital, so that she did not drop from the circle of our little heroine's friends.

Emma, being by no means an infant prodigy, and not exhibiting anything beyond the average prettinesses and naughtinesses of little children, with which most of our readers may be presumed to be familiar, we have not been careful to note her development, or mental and moral progress, since she was laid in change for ten shillings upon the pawnbroker's counter. Everything she said and did had, of course, a surpassing interest for Matty, and to Bellaby she was always amusing. The keen, sceptical moneygetting man had a blank in his nature that the child had gone farther to fill up than any other object. Her childish prattle beguiled many an anxious hour, and her affection for him pleased him. The first name she called him was Mester.' He started at the hearing of it, and it sounded so droll that he let her acquire the habit of so naming him. Matty trained her to bring him his slippers, to toddle to him with his pipe without breaking it; and use became second nature.

Bellaby did not feel that he should like her to call him Mester,' but he decided not to bother her about it till she was older. It had been a little amusement to Bellaby to put his glass to her lips and see the queer face she made on tasting what was not 'milk for babes. Unsuited to her palate as it was, she would still take as much of it as he would allow. Remarking

that, he thought it well to discontinue the practice, but still no sooner was his glass put down than the little creature came over and drained it. Matty was not experienced enough to know the danger of this, and would join in the laugh. But one day a man who had been having a glass with him, seeing her drain off both, shook his head and said to him, 'Hev a look aht, my man! Ye moant allow that. It's t' varry waah 'at sum children hes gettin' a taaste an' cravin' for drink. Ah hed a sister 'at went wrong through it.'

'Ah niver thowt o' that,' said Bellaby; 'bud shoo maks sich an a faace owre 't 'at, ah thowt shoo didn't loike it.'

'Ah, bud shoo does loike it or shoo wadn't be si keen to get at it. Ah've six childer, an' ah'm noan a temperance man, bud ah niver let ony on 'em knaw taaste o' theease things while they're small.'

Ruminating on this, Bellaby felt uneasy, for he had never risen superior to the fear that the germ of the mother's sin was latent in the child. What had he been doing to indulge her? So early to let her get a taste for what was not good for her! His fears were confirmed when his interference with the naughty practice provoked a violent outcry. Ah do believe t' bairn loikes it,' he said to Matty.

'Well, shoo's moor to meh nor my glass; it's better ah sud deny mesen than shoo suld live to be ruined wi'

drink; ah'll heh no moor on 't when she's abaht.' This resolution spoke much for his self-denial and his affection for his ward, since it ended in his abstaining altogether, save for formality's sake at the Sheep and Shears.

Miss Furniss, now Mrs. Whitcroft, but living in Leeds, had noticed that after Bellaby's adoption of the child, he was very chary about receiving presents from her, and seemed to

treat her with reserve. She supposed that this was because he was jealous of her influence and interference; but she found that it was more attributable to a proper pride, a feeling that the child being his, he ought altogether to provide for her. So she tried to overrule the very natural objection, on the ground of her superior knowledge of a little girl's requirements and the inability of himself and maid to dress her nicely. If there were a Mrs. Bellaby she should never think of volunteering any assistance, she said, archly.

When Emma was between five and six years of age, Mrs. Whitcroft felt that now the time had come for her to assume the more serious responsibilities of her sponsorship. Had she not commended the orphan child in many an earnest prayer to God, and vowed before Him that so far as in her lay she would seek to bring her within the shelter of His fold? And now that she was interested in another little one, by the sweeter, holier bonds of motherhood, she did not grow forgetful of her little godchild; no, the latter seemed to have a yet stronger claim. God had been so good to her! What could she do for the less favoured of His little ones to show her grateful love?

She rather dreaded broaching the subject to Bellaby. She knew Matty had good principles, and took the child with her to the sanctuary, and nurse might at her prompting see to her being sent to Sunday-school; but that was rather a cowardly way of going about the business. It was due to the guardian to consult him about his ward; it was due to the ward that her religious and moral training should be undertaken in solemn earnest, as a matter of the gravest importance.

'I am afraid,' she said to herself, hat I shall find Bellaby impractic

that he will try to baffle me withpositive denial. I shan't want

to argue with him; it would be of no use; I don't suppose I could answer the queer things he might say, however absurd I might think them.'

In her own playful but resolute manner she told Bellaby her errand, and the right she thought she had to be heard when she advocated the child's going to the infants' class in the Sunday-school, promising that if he would send her to it she would pay for her schooling during the week at Dame Shackleton's, who had presided over the infant intelligence of Vicar's Croft as long as she could remember.

'It's toime shoo learnt summat, bud ah'll stan' her schoilin,' said Bellaby; 'and as for Sundays, ah say nowt agean her goin' wi' Matty.'

'Mr. Bellaby, what good can it do a child like that to be brought up in your notions; you would take from her her greatest safeguard.'

'O, if shoo neeads a straight jacket, I'se nowt to say agean it!

The permission was insulting; but remembering from whom it came, and the interests at stake, Mrs. Whitcroft was above resenting it.

'We are all fools, Mr. Bellaby, till we learn wisdom. The wisdom of the wise of this world is but folly, but the best disciples are little children. You will let her come to the school.'

'O, I'se hev no peeace frae wun an' anuther if ah doan't! I'se no objecshuns to her leearnin' t' Bible or t' Koran. Ah may hev a wooard to saay t''er abaht boath when shoo's knowledgeable if ah thinks it wuth

while.'

Mrs. Whitcroft sighed.

'Your own views may change.' 'Ay, Ma'am, theer's no tellin'. Ah may get tired o' havin' lessons an' hev my views enlarged, til' ah can swaller Jonah an' t' whale !'

Mr. Bellaby, you believe in the impotence of Deity, I in His power. Your difficulties might be easily met if you were persuadable.'