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Mrs. Leslie, with firmness, "and I will trust God for the means of doing it."

"Now you are getting into the right way; hold on in this direction, and you need not fear nor be faint-hearted."

"I thank you, sir, for words of hope and encouragement, and gratefully accept your kind offer of aid and advice in this my great extremity. I see nothing clear before me-all is darkness and uncertainty. But I will look up, striving for patience and hope, and keep my hands ready for the first employment that offers." "That's it," said the landlord, cheerfully. "And now your first work is to decide what articles of furniture you will keep, and what you will sell. Reserve enough to furnish two or three small rooms, acd turn the rest into money. Don't brood over your trouble."

There came into the face of Mrs. Leslie a more hopeful aspect. “I will make the selection today," she said.

"Very well. Shall I call to-morrow with an auctioneer, and write out an inventory of all you wish to dispose of?"

This was coming still closer to the hard reality of things, and her sensitive spirit shrunk back and shuddered. An auction! She had not thought of this broad exposure of herself to the world.

"Would not a private sale be as well?" suggested Mrs. Leslie, in a faltering voice.

"No," replied the landlord; "you might sell a few articles in this way, after a great deal of trouble."

"Do, sir, as you think best." Mrs. Leslie could not keep back the sadness from her voice. "I will make my selection by to-morrow."

When the landlord called on the following day, according to promise, with an auctioneer, he found that Mrs. Leslie had completed her selection of articles to be sold. The inventory was soon made, and a time appointed for the sale; this time was a week in advance, in order to give opportunity for procuring and removing to a new home. After the auctioneer retired, the landlord said, in his straightforwaad way: "You have been thinking, of course, as to what you will do after going from here?"

"I have."

"Well, has your mind reached any fair conclusion?"

"No, sir." There was an effort to speak firmly, but a tremour in the young widow's voice betrayed the doubt and fear in her heart. "As yet, all looks dark. I am a stranger here, and friendless; I am young, inexperienced, and timid, and with but small knowledge of the ways of the world. I have thought and thought until my brain seemed on fire. Ob, sir, my heart trembles and shrinks back; the trial is too great, the burden too heavy."

"It is the brave heart that conquers," said the landlord. "Never counsel with Fear; he is a bad adviser. Hope and Courage are our best friends. Let me repeat the question I put to you yesterday-What can you do?" Mrs. Leslie was silent.

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"You can sew, of course; all women know how to use the needle."

"Yes." Faintly. How little hope is there in the needle for a mother and three children! "But that will not do as a dependence; the confinement would soon kill a weak little body like you. What do you know? Can you teach a school?"

Teach a school! Margaret Leslie teach a school! The young widow looked at her questioner in a kind of bewildered surprise.

"You

"Of course you can," said the landlord. replying to his own query. His idea touching the qualifications of a teacher did not compass a very wide range of acquirements. know how to read and to write, to do sums in addition, subtraction, and multiplication? Very well. Little children know less, and, if you can teach them these things, you are fit to set up a school. It strikes me that the best thing for you to do is to begin one for small children. No doubt I can get you some scholars. What do you say?"

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Thanks, from my heart, for your kind interest!" replied Mrs. Leslie, with tearbrimming eye. "That is all I can say now. But I will think over, carefully, what you have suggested. I must do something; but when I do begin I wish to begin right, so as to waste no time."

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Spoken to the purpose!" said the landlord, encouragingly, "spoken right to the purpose. One thing at a time, of course, so far as doing is concerned. And the first thing to be done is selling off superfluous furniture. But, while doing to-day's work, it is always best to be planning a little about to-morrow's work. That is my way."

Teaching a school! At the first presentation of this idea to Mrs. Leslie's mind, it looked preposterous. "I need, rather, to go to school myself," she said, musing upon the subject, after the landlord departed.

"Ah!" she sighed, "if I were only fitted for this service-if my education had been more thorough!"

And then she wept, as a depressing sense of her ignorance weighed down her sad heart. Still the image of that little school-room and those bright-faced children kept rising in her thought; and the more she looked at it, the pleasanter it seemed. Then she began to recall the earlier days of her childhood, the schooldays so well remembered by all, and dwelt on every minute particular. She was, for a time, a little girl, conning her first lessons; she saw her teacher, observed her manner of proceeding, and progressed with her from the first lessons in A B C on towards the more advanced period when writing-lessons came, and the slate succeeded to the well-worn spelling-book. A little light began to dawn. The A B C, the spelling, the reading and writing lessons, these she might teach. And as to what was beyond, could she not herself become a learner, and furnish herself with the needed skill as her pupils advanced?

"But what shall I do with Katy and the

"And so it is over?" she said, speaking with forced calmness. How rapidly was she schooling herself into self-control and endurance!

baby?" How like the creation of a dream did | clinging to her garments, touched the hearts of the almost pleasant image of a school-room the three men, unused, as they were, to softer fade from her mind at this question! Katy was moods. two years old, and the baby six months. What could the mother do with them in school hours? Edward was in his fourth year he could come in with other children; but, during the three morning and three afternoon hours, what would become of Katy and the baby?

"It won't do, it won't do!" And the poor little woman shook her head sadly. "I cannot undertake a school."

And so she was afloat in her plans again. Nearly all of the night followed did she lie awake, searching about in her troubled thoughts for the ways and means of getting bread for her little ones. But no other suggestion offered, and, at last, she came back to the point from which she started-the little imaginary schoolroom. Then a quiet, as if a long and weary journey were over, settled upon her mind, and she fell asleep.

The sale day came. It was one of painful trial to Mrs. Leslie, who, with a portion of her reserved furniture, remained shut up in one of the chambers, while the unsympathizing crowd trampled from room to room, and the auctioneer's voice rolled, and rattled, and crashed down at intervals, through the apartments a little while before kept sacred to domestic quiet. Who can blame her, if she wept throughout the trying scene, for now she was feeling the first rude shock of that world forth into which she was about going with her children, alone, friendless, and almost destitute? For her to go forth bravely into this world, unfurnished as she was, and enter upon the battle of life, required more heroism than Napoleon displayed in moving to the field of Waterloo. He had his great army and the prestige of a hundred victories for inspiration; she had-what? Not a single victorious antecedent to flush her heart with the hope of conquest. No, she must go forward, though her enemies seemed an army of giants; and strike with her feeble hands, if she fell bleeding and death-stricken at the first shock. Was not this heroism? Ay, and of the noblest kind; for it was born, not of ambition, but of love. No jewelled crown sparkled in her eyes as she looked upward to heights of human glory; she saw not Fame lifting his trumpet to sound her triumphs so loud that coming ages should hear them; but, in feebleness and in darkness, moved onward because duty was to be done, baring her defenceless bosom to the swift-winged and sharp-piercing arrows. If this were not heroism, then the word is a mockery.

All was at last over. The sale had ended, and the eager purchasers had removed the property which, in this brief time, had changed owners. There was a tap at her door, and Mrs. Leslie opened it to the auctioneer and his attendant, who, with the landlord, were all that remained of the crowd which had filled the house. Her pale cheeks and wet eyes, as she stood with her baby in her arms, and two little ones timidly

"Yes, it is over, madam," replied the landlord, "and well over. The sale is better than we anticipated. You will have nearly a hundred pounds.

"Thank God!" fell from the widow's lips. The sum was so much more than she had hoped to realize. It was speedily paid over to her. As the last coin was placed in her hands, the landlord said:

"Our friend here [glancing at the auctioneer] has told me of a house down in the city, occupied by a clever old couple, who have more room than they want, and who have been talking for some time about letting two or three apartments. The location is just the one for a school. They own the house, and so there could be no trouble as to underletting, and no fear of being left with a whole house on your hands. You see, madam, that I look at things all round. Shall I call upon them, and see how they feel about it?"

There seemed no other way for Mrs. Leslie. All things pointed to a school, miserably furnished as she was for such a work, and even more unfavourably circumstanced as to things external, having a babe at her breast, and two little children besides, themselves almost babes, What time had she to give to the unyielding duties of a school-teacher? "If you please," she answered, meekly.

"It is always best to strike while the iron is hot," said the landlord. I will see these people at once."

An hour passed.

"It's all settled." The kind-hearted man spoke cheerily, as he came in. "They hung fire a little, but, when I promised a year's rent in advance, or to become myself responsible for a year, they had nothing more to say against it. You are to have the front room in the second storey for a school, the room above for a bedroom, and the use of the kitchen. The rent will be twenty-six pounds a year. What do you say to that?"

"Only, may God bless the widow's friend!" answered Mrs. Leslie, in a choking voice.

"I have ordered a waggon," said the landlord. "Hark! it is coming up now. They are clearing out the rooms, and you are to go into them at once. Never mind about house-cleaning." He saw what was in her mind. "That was all done a week ago, and you'll find everything in order. There's no use in your staying here over another night."

Mrs. Leslie saw differently from that, however, and gave such good reasons for delaying the removal until the next morning, that the landlord had to give a reluctant acquiescence.

On the following day, Mrs. Leslie turned with a heavy heart from the now rifled and desolate home where a husband's love had sheltered

and guarded her, and went out into the world to struggle alone, in feebleness and ignorance.

The new home was soon in order, for it did not take long to adjust the small remnant of worldy goods that remained in the widow's possession. Then her thoughts went forward again, in troubled strife with the future. How was she to keep a school, that only resource which had yet presented itself?

On the day after Mrs. Leslie's removal, her former landlord-whose interest in her could not die out suddenly (indeed, he had pledged himself to aid her in getting up a school, and he was not the man to let his words fall fruitless on the air)-called in to see how matters stood and to offer a little further advice. Looking with a careful eye, as was his habit, to such things as touched his own interest, his first suggestion was, that the year's rent be paid in advance, seeing that the means to do so was at hand. "Then," said he, "your mind will be easy as to a home, for that will be secured for a year.' He did not say that this pleasant arrangement would take away all obligation from him, in case there should be a failure to pay the rent. But no matter; he was not perfect, and let him | have praise for acting kindly up to his best ability, for he had been, so far, a true friend to the almost helpless widow.

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To this suggestion Mrs. Leslie offered no demurrer; it was in accordance with her own views.

"And now," said the other, when this point was settled, rubbing his hands together, and looking particularly pleased, "I've been working for you in a new direction. There's an excellent family living in one of my houses, a man and his wife, who have no children of their own. I've been talking to them about you, and persuading them to take one of your children and adopt it as their own."

An instant pallor came over the widow's face, and she drew her arm with almost a vicelike clasp around little Katy, who was leaning against her.

"The lady is coming here to see you about it to-morrow. I think she will prefer the little girl."

For a few moments Mrs. Leslie struggled with her feelings. Then she said, in a low, husky voice, "You are very kind, sir, but I cannot part with my children."

"But reflect, madam," urged the man; "think of your condition and of the child's good. You will be wholly relieved from the burden of her support, and she will pass, by adoption, into one of the best homes in our city. The family is rich, and she will grow up as an only child. I know that it must be a trial for any mother; but then we must consult the good of our children, as well as our own feelings." Mrs. Leslie bent down her head until her face lay hidden among the soft curls that clustered around the temples, brow, and neck of her darling Katy. She was not debating the proposition, but opening her heart deeper, that the child might get a more secure place there,

"What say you?" The landlord pressed hard the question.

"That I will die with my children, but not part with them."

The landlord was disappointed and offended. Losing patience, he said, roughly, "Very well, madam, you can paddle your own canoe, for all I care."

And he went stalking from the house, and never came near her again.

Night seemed to have fallen suddenly, after a dark and tearful day. The only friend upon whom Mrs. Leslie had leaned, with any hope of being sustained in her efforts, had now turned from her in anger; and she felt like one, in passing over some fearful chasm, was conscious that the slender plank was yielding beneath her tread. Mrs. Waylahd, the woman into whose house she had removed, came up to her room about half-an-hour after the landlord went away; the unusual stillness there had attracted her notice. She tapped at the door lightly, but, as no response came from within, she pushed it open, and entered. She found Mrs. Leslie sitting with Katy in her arms, and her face bent down and hidden. The baby lay asleep in its cradle, while Edward sat playing with some paper soldiers on the floor. The only one who noticed her entrance was the little boy, who looked up to her with a pleased smile.

"Mrs. Leslie!" But there was no movement of the bowed figure. "Mrs. Leslie !" She spoke now in a louder tone, at the same time laying her hand upon Mrs. Leslie's shoulder,

With a start, Mrs. Leslie raised her head, and looked at Mrs. Wayland in a bewildered

manner.

"Are you lil?" asked the latter, in a kind voice. There was something in the voice that went stealing down into the sufferer's heart,

"Not ill, but in despair," she replied, mournfully.

"There is a bright side to every cloud," said Mrs. Wayland.

"Not to the cloud that has fallen over me," was the sadly-spoken answer. Katy, who was laying upon her lap, now raised herself up; as she did so, her mother drew her tightly to her bosom, and said, in a half wild way, "Give up my darling to a stranger! Never! never! I will die with and for my children, but never give them up."

"No one wishes to take away your children," said Mrs. Wayland, who began to think that the poor woman's mind was disordered.

"Yes, they do; they want my Katy," was replied.

"Who wants her?"

"A lady is coming to-morrow." • What lady?”

"I don't know her name, but Mr. Lawson has been talking to her; and, because I told him that I would die with my children rather than part with them, he went off in anger, saying that I might get along as best I could."

"Mr. Lawson is well enough in his way, but he isn't all the world by a great deal," said the

do our duty, obstructions remove themselves out of our way. We have but to lift our feet and plant them firmly in advance, to find the ground sure beneath our tread.

old lady, showing a trifle of womanly indigna- | the heart of Mrs. Leslie that, when we strive to tion. "It's all very well for a man to talk to a woman about giving up her children, as if they were sheep or cattle, but he knows nothing about it; so, brighten up, my little woman, and don't take it to heart. Things will come out right; they always do. That's my experience, and I've had some pretty hard rubs in getting through the world. If I understand, you have enough ahead to keep you for the next six months; so, you see, there's plenty of space to turn around in. Scholars will come in, if only one at a time. "You'll get a school, and no thanks to Mr. Lawson."

Mrs. Leslie, without answering, rose and went to a drawer, from which she took a package of money. "Let me do one thing," she said, "and that is, secure this house for a year. Here are twenty-six pounds, the amount of rent. It is set apart for this purpose, and will be safest in your hands."

Mrs. Wayland received the money, simply saying, as she did so, "Let it be as you wish." She then added, in a tone of encouragement: "I have something for you on the brighter side; two scholars to begin with." A light glanced over Mrs. Leslie's face. "But let me explain myself," said Mrs. Wayland, taking a chair; she had, until now, been standing. "There is one thing that I have seen from the beginning; ; you can't teach a school unless there is somebody to take care of your children, the two youngest, especially. Now, I think I can manage this for you. The scholars I spoke of are two little orphan neices; if you will teach them, I will take care of Katy and the baby during school hours. How does this strike you?"

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Oh, ma'am," replied Mrs. Leslie, grasping the hand of Mrs. Wayland, "nothing could suit me better."

"Very well, that may be regarded as settled, and so much towards a school. Beginning with these two little girls, you can feel your way, as it were. brush up, and get your hand in, by the time other scholars come along."

How soon after the shadows fell did the sunlight drive them away! It was but the going down of one day in darkness, that another day of brighter aspect might succeed.

In a week, Mrs. Leslie was ready to open her school. She took that time to acquaint herself as much as possible with books of instruction and modes of teaching, for, being in earnest, and seeing only this resource before her, she gave up her thought to her work, and resolved to do it well-that is, up to the full measure of her ability. It so happened that kind Mrs. Wayland had an acquaintance, a young woman recently from England, who, before her marriage, was a teacher. When she was introduced to Mrs. Leslie, and made acquainted with her designs, she entered into them with a lively interest; in fact, undertook to give the teacher not only the first lessons in her art, but to plan for her a course of study in the right direction. Then came another strengthening assurance to

Mrs. Leslie always loved children. When a young girl, she would gather them around her, and tell them stories by the hour; and children were always attracted to her.

"I am afraid these two little girls will give you trouble," said Mrs. Wayland, on the day the school was opened. "They have been sadly neglected since their mother's death." "I will make them love me," was the quiet

answer.

And it was so. The young teacher did not begin by adopting a stately formality; she held in her mind no school pattern for imitation. She made no system of rules for strict observance; but, desiring to do her duty by her pupils, she sought, through her own instincts, the way to their hearts; and she found the way. How easy the task was that seemed, as she looked at it from the dim distance, impossible to perform! She was able to look right into the minds of her pupils, to take hold, as it were, of their thoughts, and draw them towards those facts and formulas which are first to be stored in the memory, and then raised up into the region of intelligence; and in doing this, in her own way, she kept them always interested, and made their schoolhours pleasant, instead of irksome.

At the end of ten days two more scholars were added. The friend of Mrs. Wayland, referred to as having been a teacher, had looked on, with no common interest, to see how the experiment of Mrs. Leslie would succeed. A week's observation satisfied her; and on her recommendation this addition was made to the school.

From that time the future of Mrs. Leslie was settled. Her little flock steadily increase i, until, before six months had expired, the number reached twenty. It was plain, however, both to herself and the few kind friends who had learned to take an interest in her, that her duties were too severe. She was a frail, slender woman, with a narrow chest and rather low vitality. The earnestness with which she was bending every power of body and mind to this double work of teaching and self-instruction told severely upon her nervous system, and made signs of warning on her paling cheeks and hollow eyes. But there was no turning back to find a new path; this was the only one that had opened to her feet, and, for the sake of her beloved ones, she must go forward, though the sharp stones cut her at every footfall.

A year later found her with a flourishing school, but in a new location. The room at Mrs. Wayland's proving too small, she had taken an entire house, with ampler accommodations. Here she went on, in her life-battle, from conquering unto conquest. The reputation of her school had spread so widely that she was solicited to take more advanced pupils. She

had neither the time nor the ability to teach these, and so had to add to her establishment two or three competent instructors. Yet still, as her work increased, her strength of bodynot of will-declined. The aching head and depressed nervous system, the pains that often sobbed her of sleep, had no power to turn her aside from her chosen path. For her children she was ready to die, if that must be; to accept the crown of martyrdom, but not to swerve from duty.

Two, three, four, five years came and went, yet the devoted little woman was still at her post. The school was large, and the demand on all her faculties constant and imperative.

"You will kill yourself," said one.

"You will have to give up your school," said another.

"No one has a right to commit suicide," suggested a third.

Mrs. Leslie beard all this, looked at her help less children, considered them, and kept on. The question of stopping was not even debated. And still, as the years went by, the pale, thin face of Mrs. Leslie was seen daily in her school, which, under her excellent management, held its own, though institutions of greater scope and higher pretensions were growing up around her. At last, Edward, her eldest son, reached his majority, and entered the world as a pureminded, earnest, honest man. At seventeen, she bad placed him in a store, where, by industry and intelligence, he gained his employer's confidence, and now he was fairly launched on the sea of life, well furnished for the voyage. Katy had been educated as a teacher, and brought into the school; but a man worthy to claim her hand wanted her for another position, and so removed her to a new home. Willie, who was studying medicine, alone remained to lean upon her failing arm. How earnestly and tenderly did Edward and Katy beseech their mother to give up, and spare her life! But her duty, as she saw it, was not yet done, and so she kept on a few years longer; then the end came, and she rested from her labour.

Willie, her youngest born, and-if her true mother's heart leaned towards one of her children more than another-her idol, had closed his three years' course of study, and received his diploma. The hour for his arrival at home had come, and, with a heart full of love and thankfulness that God had spared her to complete her wish, Mrs. Leslie looked for his appearance. She was conscious of feeling weaker than usual; the ordinary duties of the day had pressed upon her heavily, and many times she had been compelled, through sheer weakness, to lie down, in order to recover her wasting strength.

The night had fallen. Edward was away at the railway-station to meet Willie on the arrival

of the train, and Katy had come around from her pleasant home to share the family joy. She sat with her mother, and talked of the smiling future which stood, with a quiver full of blessings, beckoning her onward.

"I feel very weak to-night-weaker than usual," said Mrs. Leslie, leaning back in the large easy-chair, with a weary movement.

"Let me bring you a pillow." And Katy ran lightly over to her mother's room and brought back a pillow, which she placed on the sofa. "Now lie down," she said. "Ah, that is more comfortable." And she kissed the pale brow and thin lips of her heroic mother, tenderly and lovingly.

"The train is late coming to-night. I hope nothing has happened to it." There was a tremor of concern in the voice of Mrs. Leslie.

She had hardly said this when the door was heard to open, and then came manly footsteps, with a springing tread, along the passage. "Thank God!" leaped from the mother's heart, as she rose up, and leaned forward eagerly to get the first sight of her boy, returning home with honour. Into her outstretched arms he came. Clasping him almost wildly to her heart, sчe sobbe:

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My son! son!"

"Dear, dear mother! I am with you again."

For an unusual time, Mrs. Leslie stood holding her arms around her son, and hiding her face upon his shoulder, then, lifting her head, she murmured, as if answering back to her own thougts: "Yes, blessed be God! It was His strength, not mine."

The children noticed an unusual pallor in her always pale face.

"Lie down again, dear mother," said Katy, pressing the light form back upon the sofa. "This excitement is too much for you."

There was a smile of peace on the mother's pale face, as she looked firt at one at then at another of her children.

"God bless you all!" she said, with unusual emotion, "and make you, my sons, good and true men, and you, my daughter, a good and true woman. I have lived for this hour; and my reward is great. God bless and keep you!"

The low voice quivered, and tears came out from beneath the closed lids, and shone on the silken lashes.

Shall we go on?

Heroic woman! the great battle of life is over, and thou art crowned with the laurel wreath of victery. In the very flush of triumph, with all thy riteh rophies around thee, thy day went dow in floods of glory!

On all the blood-stained pages of history, is there written down the story of truer heroism than this?

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