village inn, drinking and carousing with him. But some message of salvation, as proclaimed by a man of God, had found an entrance into his mind, and had caused him to forsake his sinful ways and seek for mercy. He found mercy, and thenceforward his life was that of a new man. Regularly every Sunday morning Robert Dunley might be seen with a little child clinging to each hand going to the house of prayer, after vainly endeavouring to induce his wife to accompany him thither. But she loved drink; the passion for intoxicants mastered and overpowered all the finer feelings of womanhood, and erected an insuperable barrier against all good influences. Supposing that a shilling of Robert's wages remained in the house, it was no uncommon thing for Susan to get drunk upon it before the holy day of rest was closed; while, if no means of getting drink was available, she would gibe and sneer at poor Robert because of his "new-fangled ways," and his "canting hypocrisy," as she termed it, in such a cruel manner, that for very peace sake he would go out into the fields to sit down and meditate. On Sunday afternoons, when his two little children were gone to the Sunday-school, Robert would engage himself in the distribution of tracts from house to house in the parish, a service in which his simple faith and gift for praying with the sick were invaluable. During the few years he lived he was the means of accomplishing much good in this way, and many a poor invalid and bedridden saint was encouraged by him to seek more joy and peace in the Holy Ghost. Robert Dunley had need of much grace, but his faith never seemed to fail. Several times he tried to establish prayer in the family, but as often as he tried his wife frustrated his purpose by her violent and abusive language. She seemed so enraged because he would not run with her to the same excess of riot as before, that no consideration served to restrain her wrath. Accordingly, in default of quiet in his own house, he betook himself to the shelter of the old dilapidated barn, which stood in one corner of the garden attached to his house. Here he prayed to the God which seeth in secret, and He "rewarded" Robert Dunley "openly." This state of things lasted for a few years, so that it became the talk of the district. It was evident that Robert had been ripening for glory for some time; his faith, patience, hope, and trust were so sweetly developed, while his daily communion with God was of a high order. He reminded me forcibly of the following verse, for it mattered not though his wife abused him day by day, and week after week, his countenance reflected that peace of God which passeth all understanding. This verse, I believe, reflected the state of his mind: "He waits in secret on his God, His God in secret sees; Let earth be all in arms abroad, He dwells in heavenly peace." At last Robert was taken ill with rheumatic fever, caused, I have no doubt, by his wife's inattention to her husband's comforts, but, as she averred, by his constant kneeling in the damp barn. At any rate, if this latter assertion were correct, Susan Dunley's conduct was still the cause, seeing that she hunted her husband downstairs and out of the house with a demoniac cruelty if ever she caught the poor fellow attempting to pray in his bedroom. He was as literally a martyr for his religion as if he had gone to the stake. "Through much tribulation," and that from the hands of her who should have been his nearest and dearest friend, he entered the Kingdom. He did not suffer long. Only two or three short weeks of increasing pain, and of equally increasing prayer and praise, and then poor Robert Dunley, rather, rich Robert Dunley, passed away to claim his mansion in the skies. He clung to his wife still, as far as she would let him, and wrestled for her, praying that God would work upon her by His Spirit, and so make her "a new creature in Christ Jesus." And as he passed away he died, shouting, “Thanks be unto God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." Susan Dunley was affected by her husband's death for a while, and seemed to promise amendment. She had not now a friend in the world, for her son had enlisted as a soldier to get away from her, while some relatives had taken the daughter, so as to bring her up away from the contaminating influence of a drunken mother. But she fell lower and lower. Drink, and the company which drink gathers, seemed to be all her desire; so, as may be imagined, she descended very speedily, now that her husband was gone, into the mire of disgrace and degradation. She finally ended her days in the union workhouse, a miserable object, without hope and without grace. As she lived, so she died, a despiser of God. The children both did well. Upon both of them the blessings sought by a believing father's prayers rested most abundantly in after life. Our Daily Cross. HERE'S not a heart that beats on earth THE But hath some hidden care; E'en spirits of celestial birth Some secret sorrow bear. Yet faint not 'neath the daily load Still calmly tread thy onward road- It is thy cross! Oh, meekly bear One holier than thou Has borne His cross before thee there, E. R. P. HARRIET POWER. "I will give you rest.” AY art thou worn with toil and strife, Thy heart with grief oppressed? Yes, I will give thee rest, although Yet, heavy-laden, cast on Me And I will give thee peace. It may be that thy joys are fled, No more for earthly joys thou'lt sigh, Then, drooping spirit, rise, be strong; In heaven I'll give thee rest. HARRIET POWER. LONG one of the beautiful glens of beautiful Scotland might be seen walking every Sabbath morning in the direction of the nearest kirk a singular pair of worshippers. A middle-aged female of tall and stately bearing, with a grave, sweet countenance, closely followed by a magnificent dog, who for years had been in |