old, her parents and Miss B did not waste a time so precious. As her strength permitted, she was occupied in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and in all sorts of handiwork, in which she made such rapid progress that she astonished many who saw her. Especially they did not forget the one thing needful. They remembered that, in common with all, Jemima was born with a heart rebellious against God, at enmity with His word, inclined to evil; and they constantly directed her to the Saviour as the only source of good, and the only author of our salvation. As soon as she was able to understand, her friends would often ask her what we must do to get to heaven. "Love God, and believe in Jesus Christ," she would quickly answer. "And must we not also love the Lord Jesus?" "Yes." "And why? Because

He died upon the cross for us to obtain pardon of our sins." This may appear to be a lesson learnt by heart; however, it pleased the Lord to use such means to draw the heart of this dear child to Himself, and to impress upon it the great truths of the Gospel, for these lessons were united with earnest prayer for her and with her. Jemima was accustomed to pray for herself, too; I could cite many of her own expressions. One day she said, "I thank Thee, O God, for having kept me during this night; watch over me during the day. May I be very gentle, very obedient to mamma and Miss B. May I not lie, and may I be no more obstinate, as I was yesterday. Grant this, for the sake of Jesus Christ my Saviour. Amen." Jemima's natural disposition, far from being better than other children, often gave her parents great uneasiness. When she was quite young, she got the habit of crying long and violently whenever she was crossed, which became quite an affliction to her. Many means were employed to correct this habit, but without success, when, one day, after one of these paroxysms, Miss B― took her upon her lap, and said to her with kindness, "Those were the cries of a naughty child which I heard just now, my dear Jemima. Do you know that some people die from anger? And think a little what would become of you if God took you away in such a state?" From that time she never had such violent and long cries. It was evident she struggled against this bad habit whenever she felt inclined to give way to it. Like other children, she would

sometimes disobey, be obstinate, or answer in an improper manner those who instructed her, but her sorrow and regret was very evident as soon as she recollected herself; she had no rest until she had obtained pardon, and was always ready when she had it to kneel down and ask pardon of God. One day Miss B, seeing her come out of her room, asked her what she had done. Jemima hesitated, blushed, then she said, "I have not done anything wrong, I think. I think you will not be sorry when I tell you I have asked God to forgive me for having disobeyed you."

LEONORA THURSTAN, HER MARRIAGE, LIFE, AND DEATH.-I.

"Bell! thou soundest merrily
When the bridal party

To the church doth hie!"

"WHAT a lovely morning!" said Leonora Thurstan as she opened the lattice window of her chamber on a beautiful morning in the month of April. As she watched the sun slowly rising in splendour, the mist which had obscured the landscape stealing away like a dark spirit from the earth, the lark singing in the sky, and felt the refreshing influence of the morning breeze, she again exclaimed, "What a lovely morning!" Never in her life had Leonora risen on such an eventful day as this was to be. Do you ask what was to happen to her? She was to be married! She had been engaged for two years to Clement Nightingale, a farmer's son who lived five miles off. He was a moderately tall young man, with light-brown hair and a pleasant genial countenance. He had received a good education, and was known all around for his modest, unaffected piety. His prospects in life were neither very great nor very pleasing to a girl who looked simply on worldly possessions as the measure of a husband's worth. His father had put him into a farm of two hundred acres, held on a lease, and had provided him with all the cattle and implements required for working it. His friends hoped that his knowledge of farming, business habits, and good character, would enable him to succeed in life, although the beginning was but small. Of course Leonora had the most unbounded confidence in Clement's capabilities, and she trusted

that Providence would favour his efforts to support himself and his bride elect. Her appearance was decidedly prepossessing, she was of medium height and well-formed, her features regular, her complexion fair and soft, her eyes dark and sparkling, her hair jet black, neatly braided. Many of the farmers' sons near the village of Iffley had admired her, and many tried to win her favour, but none were privileged to accompany her on her shopping visits to Oxford, or to see her home from the sanctuary on Sunday, but Clement Nightingale. The well-trained girl saw more sterling worth in him than in others who made a greater display of their talents and acquirements, and this was the principal reason why she gave him her heart. We left Leonora looking out of her chamber window; let us return to see how she prepares herself for the great event of the day. Of course she paid a due regard to her toilet and attire, what maiden would not? but, having done so, she sat down in an arm-chair absorbed in reflection. After thinking for a short time, she utters with deep emotion, "My Father, the step I am about to take is the most important in my life; I have asked Thy guidance and help in the past, and now again I ask Thee to be with me to-day, and may I ever show to Clement and all whom I shall meet that I desire to obey Thee in every relationship of life!" A gentle tap was heard at the door, and Mabel Harold, one of the bridesmaids, entered. "Leonora," she asked, "are you almost ready? It is nearly eight o'clock. Have you not heard the bells pealing for some time?" "I have," replied Leonora, "I shall be ready in a few minutes." Half an hour later and Leonora Thurstan and Clement Nightingale stood at the altar of the pretty little Norman church at Iffley. The church was nearly filled with their friends, many of whom said they thought Clement ought to be happy. A few hours afterwards the happy pair started for London to spend the honeymoon.

II.

"O world! so few the years we live;

Would that the life that thou dost give
Were life indeed!"

FIFTEEN years have passed away since the marriage, abovementioned, took place in Iffley church. During that time

Leonora Nightingale has become a matron of nearly forty, and the mother of five children. The eldest, Clement, is a noble boy of fourteen; the second, Leonora, a pretty, intelligent girl of twelve; the third, Edith, aged ten, is very much like her sister; the fourth, Ralph, is a mischievous boy of seven; and last, comes little Henry, the "baby brother," aged four. Time has developed the graces of womanhood in the mother of this family, and their father is now become a well-built man in middle age. His honest, manly face is known, and his character is respected for many miles around the ancient city of Oxford. He is known as a man who is diligent in business, whose word is taken in the market, who is kind to his dependents, who is bringing up his children well, by precept and example, and who is regular in his attendance at the house of God. In all these relationships of life Leonora has been his helper; in sorrow, and in joy, she has been the sympathizing and loving wife. Clement has indeed proved the truth of the proverb, that "A good wife is above all price." On the Sabbath morning and afternoon they are seen in their places in the sanctuary; but, as they live about three miles distant, they cannot go in the evening, so they have "a church in the family." It is the month of January, and somewhat cold; a large fire blazes upon the hearth of a comfortably-furnished room. The candles are lighted, and the family sit around the table. Each one has a Bible, excepting little Henry, who is sitting on his mother's lap, looking at the pictures of Samuel and Eli in the large family Bible. Clement has just finished reading the story of Samuel's dedication to the Lord. "Henry," says the mother, "you see God loves good children; if you wish Him to love you, you must be good. But it is time for you to go to bed now; your papa will pray before the servant takes you upstairs." Prayer is offered, kisses are exchanged, and Clement and Leonora Nightingale sit alone before the fire, talking of their children's prospects in this life, and that which is to come.

III.

"Bell! thou soundest mournfully;

Tellest thou the bitter

Parting hath gone by?"

"I FEAR there is no hope of your mother's recovery," said Dr.

Ellis to Clement Nightingale, as they drove swiftly one evening from Oxford to Elm-tree Farm; "all that human skill can do has been done, and now I think we must leave the case to a higher power." "I fear you speak too truly, doctor," replied Clement, now a fine young man of twenty-nine. On arriving at the farm, they were met by Ralph, who, with a very serious countenance, said, "I am very glad you are come, Dr. Ellis, but I fear you can do no good, for my mother is worse." The three ascended to the chamber where the husband and children were gathered around the bed of the dying wife and mother. All in that room were filled with unmingled sorrow, but one, and that one was the dying Christian. She felt much grief at parting with her loved husband and children, but it was tempered with joy; for she hoped to meet them all in the land of holiness and bliss above. Her husband was a Christian before they were married, and her children had, by God's mercy, become Christians, through her example and prayers. As they walked with God on earth, she was justified in hoping to meet them in heaven. "Let me kiss you all now," she said, "for I feel that I shall not live long now." Each of them received from her a loving kiss, and then she lay back upon the pillows, looking much exhausted but serene and happy. Before the morning dawned her spirit had fled to the God who gave it. The bereaved husband sat alone in the chamber of death, and the children, now grown up to manhood and womanhood, were sobbing mournfully in the room below. The knell of Iffley church sounded sadly over the fields on a bright April morning, thirty years after the bells of the same church had pealed so merrily on a similar morning when Leonora Thurstan became the wife of Clement Nightingale. Then they told of the happy Christian bride, now the knell told of the departed Christian wife and mother. But, while the bell tolled on earth, angels were welcoming the sainted spirit before the throne of God in heaven.

R. A. H.