Lamb of GOD that takest away the sins of the world, grant us Thy peace;" that cry, which doubtless has been the voice of the Church almost since that hour when the LORD's Forerunner stretched out his hand and said, "Behold the Lamb;" for many no doubt there were in that day of Pentecost, when the Church first dawned upon the world, who had heard the Baptist speak those words. And now one more of the little ones for whom the Lamb was slain awoke that cry, and it rose up in the silent, holy place to be Maude Elliston's first deeply earnest prayer.

Ére she passed out into the green churchyard again, it had in a measure been answered.

She felt at least as she walked homeward a sort of struggling consciousness within her, that there might be some better destiny for human beings than the world had yet disclosed to her; and, at all events, she could not tell how or why the 'dreary cloud of despondency that had weighed upon her, seemed pierced through with a faint ray of light, like to the first beam which gives promise of the faint dawning of the morning; and there was a sense of hope abiding within her that, vague as it was, and altogether without form in her own mind, yet marvellously lightened the load of life; and so she reached home, in some sense, an altered being.

Poor Maude found to her great consternation on her entrance into the room where the Elliston family were at breakfast, that she had need of all her new-found cheerfulness to meet the storm that awaited her; the household was in a complete state of anarchy, which at first she could by no means comprehend, and the scene which presented itself was certainly rather bewildering. In one arm-chair sat Mrs. Elliston, sobbing; in another was Mr. Elliston scolding; in a corner little Fanny crouched down, laughing to her heart's content; by her side stood Henry, struggling not to follow her example; at the table was John, devouring hot rolls in evident abstraction, or he could never have swallowed them so fast; and Charlotte, the triumphant author of all this disturbance, was composedly reading a letter, which appeared greatly to interest her, and by means of which she had thus thrown the whole house into disorder.

As husbandmen cast some of their corn back into a fruitful soil, whereby in due time they receive it back again with increase, so should we do with worldly blessings. Sow them in the bowels, and on the backs of the poor members of CHRIST, and in the day of harvest we shall find great increase.-Old Book.

A little before the massacre of Paris, the Popish party gave out that the

Protestants met by night to plot against the State; and other atrocities. This is an old trick of the enemy and his instruments, first to belie the Church, and to represent her in the ugliest hue, and then to persecute her; as of old they put the poor Christians in bears' skins and lions' skins, and then baited them with dogs.-General Martyrology.

THE TWO GUARDIANS.

CONCLUSION.

"Perchance it was our's on life's journey to enter

Some path through whose shadows no lovelight was thrown,
With heart that could breast the fierce storms of its winter,
And gather the wealth of its harvest alone;

It is well there are stars in bright heaven to guide us
To heights we ne'er dreamt of,-but oh, to forget
The fortunes that bar, and the gulfs that divide us

From paths that looked lovely, with some we have met."

F. BROWN.

MANY weeks had passed away, and nothing had changed, in any material way, since the spring. Mrs. Lyddell's condition was still unsatisfactory, and she seemed to be settling into a confirmed state of ill-health, and almost of hypochondriacism. So many shocks, following each other in such quick succession, on a person entirely unprepared by nature, experience, or self-regulation, had entirely broken her down, and shattered her nerves and spirits in a manner which she seemed less and less likely to recover. She was only able to rise late in the day, take a short drive, and after dining in her own room, come down in the evening, if they were alone, and it was a good day with her.

No change, neither sea air, nor London advice, had made much difference, and her condition had become so habitual, that her family had ceased to expect any considerable amendment; and it was likely that Clara would, for many years, have full employment as her companion and attendant. Lionel was perfectly, hopelessly blind, but growing reconciled to his misfortune, and habituated to the privation, as well as resigned in will. His natural character, of a high-spirited, joyous, enterprising boy, showed itself still in his independence and fearlessness, joined to cheerfulness, that enlivened the house. He had even gone the length of talking freely and drolly to his father, and Mr. Lyddell had learnt to smile, and even laugh, at his fun.

There had been fears that the removal to London, for the session of Parliament, would be a great privation to him, since he would miss the wandering about the downs by himself, and the riding with Marian; but his temper and spirits did not fail. He walked every day with her, and was entertained with all he heard, both by his own quick ears, and by her description. They went to exhibitions, where she saw for him, and there were lectures, readings, and other oral amusements, to which his father, or some good-natured friend, would take him. He began to acquire a taste for music, which he had hitherto never cared to hear, and

concerts became a great delight to him; though he had not the correct ear, and admirable appreciation of music, that often, in blind persons, seems like a compensation for the loss of the pleasures of the eye.

Lady Marchmont became very kind to him. She was thoroughly good-natured, and the sight of the blind youth, whose arm Marian held as they walked together, stirred all her kindly feelings. He was gentlemanlike and pleasant-looking, and his manner, now divested of schoolboy brusquerie, was frank and confiding. Selina was disposed to like him, and to be interested in him. She found, too, that Marian did not like to go out when his amusement was not provided for; so at first for Marian's sake, then for his own, she made him join them when they went to concerts, or to any other amusement that could gratify him. Her bright liveliness and spirited way of talking, won him ; and it delighted Marian to see what great friends they became, even to the length of laughing over the old Wreath of Beauty story together. And when at length she was brought, of her own accord, in some degree to patronise Clara, it was a triumph indeed; and Mrs. Lyddell was more obliged to Marian than for all the real benefits she had conferred, when she saw Clara dressed to go to a party at Lady Marchmont's.

All this time Marian was becoming more and more a prey to that secret doubt, whether it might not be a duty to give up her cherished hope of a home at Fern Torr. She did not see how she could be spared. Clara was an admirable attendant on her mother, and was becoming a better mistress of the house; but she was not able to be at the same time a companion to her father and Lionel, and, poor girl, she would be very forlorn and much at a loss without Marian's elder sisterhood; for the sense of help and reliance that Marian's presence gave her was little less. For her to go away, would be to bring home to Clara the loss of Caroline more than she had ever been left to feel it.

Yet, on the other hand, Clara was no companion. They talked, indeed, but they never discussed,--never had any interchange of higher sympathies or reflections; it was not getting beyond the immediate matter in hand; and often Marian would be sensible that, if her own pleasure were consulted, a walk or ride, with her thoughts free to range in meditation or day-dream, was preferable to Clara's chatter.

Her own pleasure,-that she enjoyed but little, and less now than ever, for her time was never her own. There was Lionel on her hands almost every day, to be read to, or walked with; and if he went out with his father, or spent an hour in his mother's room, there was Clara wanting her quite as much, for gossip, exercise, or consultation. Mrs. Lyddell, too, must be visited; for though Marian was not the most beloved or most welcome person

in the world, yet a change of society and conversation was desirable, both for her sake and Clara's; so more than two hours every day were spent in her sitting-room. Then, in the evening, Marian's thoughts and ears must be free for Mr. Lyddell and Lionel. All her own pursuits were at an end; she had hardly touched a pencil the whole year, nor opened a German book, nor indeed any book, excepting what she read to Lionel, and these were many. She was very seldom able to enjoy the luxury of being alone; she could hardly even write her letters, except by sitting up for them; and even the valuable hour before midnight was not certain to be her own, for if Clara had no other time to pour out her cares, she used to come then, and linger in her cousin's room, reiterating petty perplexities, endless in detail.

How delightful to escape from all this, to quietness, peace, freedom from her own cares and other people's,-Fern Torr air and scenery, Edmund and Agnes for companions, and liberty to teach school-children, go about among her own people, do good in her own way, and enjoy her own studies. It was like a captive longing to be set free,—a wanderer in sight of home.

But the captive paused on the threshold of the dungeon; the wanderer stood still on the brow of the last hill. Marian paced up and down her own room, and thought and reasoned half aloud,

"Sweet is the smile of home, the mutual look,

When hearts are of each other sure;

Sweet all the joys that crown the household nook,
The haunt of all affections pure:

Yet in the world even these abide, and we

Above the world our calling boast."

"And I am making them the world, if for their sake I give up what my conscience calls on me to do. I know, though I do little good here, my going away would make them more uncomfortable. Have I any right to seek my pleasure? But I should do more good there; I should go to school, read to the poor people, go to Church in the week, be more improved myself. O that home of peace and joy! And Gerald-my first duty is to him. But what harm would it do him? I could go home for his holidays. I must not deceive myself; I have been put in the way of positive duties here, or rather, ways of being useful have grown up round me. Is it right to run away from them,-poor Lionel, poor Clara? Would not every weary hour of Lionel's,every time Clara was teased, and teased her father,-be my fault? But how Edmund and Agnes will be disappointed!-they who will have been throwing away so much kind care! O you goose of a Marian! are you going to fancy it is for your sake that they mean to marry? don't you think they can do very well without you.

How very silly to be sorry that it must be so !-how very, very silly! And even Gerald will marry one of these days, and will not want me; and shall I always be alone then? For as to that other sort of affection, I ain sure it is quite certain that I can never care for anybody enough to marry,-never half as well as Gerald. No, no one will ever love me as I do others; every one has some one nearer to them; a lonely life, and never a home! Well, then there is a home somewhere else, and those who made my earthly home are waiting for me there, in the Land of the Leal."

Such was the tenor of Marian's oft-repeated musings. The practical result was a resolution to consult Edmund when she should go to Fern Torr to his wedding, early in August. She could not write her pros and cons, but to Edmund she could tell them, and trust to him as a just and impartial judge; and if Agnes was angry, it would serve them, thought Marian smiling, for a quarrel, for they won't have many other chances of one.

However, the time drew on, when behold, every one's calculations were disturbed by a sudden dissolution of Parliament. Hitherto such events had not made much difference to the Lyddells, as Mr. Lyddell's election had been, for the last twenty years, unopposed; and the only doubt at present was, whether he thought it worth while to stand again, considering that he was growing old and weary of business, and besides could not well afford the London house.

He had been hinting something of the kind to Lionel and Marian in the evening, as a matter under consideration, and they had heard it with joy, when the next morning brought a sudden change upon the face of affairs, by bringing tidings that Mr. Faulkner was soliciting the votes of Mr. Lyddell's constituents, on the opposite interest, taking the wrong side of the question, a most important one, upon which the dissolution had taken place.

Here was indignation indeed. There was something so unfeeling in such a proceeding, on his part, that the mildest word spoken against him was Marian's, and that was "atrocious." To give up was one thing, to be thus turned out was quite another; and it was clearly right to the moral sense, as well as satisfactory to the indignant temper, that Mr. Lyddell should oppose "to the last gasp," as the furious Lionel expressed it, one who espoused principles so pernicious both in politics and religion. One thing was certain, that nobody would ever wish again that Caroline had married him. Il as Mr. Lyddell could afford the expense of a contested election, his blood was up, and he was determined not to yield an inch. Never had Marian believed she could grow so vehement about anything that concerned him, but now her whole soul seemed to be in his success. He had always been on the right side; and now that a steadily growing sense of religion was in