"And I am come to help nurse you, John, and to do what I can for you. Don't you want a letter written to somebody?"

And

Ah yes, if Mary would only be so kind, while he had a little ease. He thanked the good Lord that he was not in so much-not in quite so much-pain as he had been. if Mary would be so kind: there was his brother-in-lawhis wife's brother, who lived about thirty miles off at present, for he was working on the railroad (and he named the place): his name was William Carter; and if Mary would write only a few lines to him-only a few-just to tell him what had happened.

And so Mary went up to her own room again to fetch paper and ink and pen. She was not much of a letter writer, for who had she to write letters to? But she had the materials at hand, at any rate. And presently, when she came down again, the letter was written and ready to be posted the next morning.

How Mary Johnson presently went into the outer room and persuaded the elder girl to go to bed and get a little rest,-how she afterwards spent the night in taking her turn of watching by the dying man's side, how she wiped the perspiration from his face, and cooled his fevered brow with damp cloths, and moistened his parched lips with fair water,-how she sometimes whispered words of consolation in his ear,-how the poor man's agony was sometimes so overpowering as to make him pray that God would be so merciful as to release him from further suffering,-how he then prayed to be kept from murmuring impatience,-how strength seemed to be imparted to him to bear,-how, when morning came, the surgeons again came, and confirmed their yesterday's verdict that nothing could be done to save the poor man's life,-how, later, a minister of the gospel came, and prayed with and for the poor crushed man, and spoke comforting words to him;-all this may be summed up in the few sentences I have written.

And how, through the next day, Mary Smith laid aside all her small household cares (not small to her perhaps), and left her needlework untouched, and devoted herself to attendance on the neighbour to whom she had scarcely ever spoken a kindly, sisterly word while he was in health and strength, how she gave her attention, also, from time to time, to the two children, so soon to be orphans,—and how

the patient was, from hour to hour, visibly sinking;-all this may be left untold in full.

Another day came-the second after the accident; and it was plain that poor Smith could not last many hours more. His pain was gone-gone because, as dame Higgins said, "mortification had set in." But his mind was clear, and his thoughts were heavenward.

"I shall soon be with my Saviour," he said.

Just then, there was a little movement in the outer room, as of some one entering; and then a tall, strong man, very coarsely dressed, stood by Smith's bedside. The man was William Carter, who, on receiving the news of the accident, had started off, just as he was, and walked thirty miles to see his brother-in-law.

"Oh John !" he said, in big rough tones (as Mary Johnson afterwards described them)-and the tears ran down his cheeks as he spoke ;-"Oh, John, I am sorry to see thee thus!" He was a northcountry-man, to judge by his speech.

The dying man held out his hand to the new comer, whom it was heartily grasped.

by

"And can thee look up to the Lord Jesus now, John?" asked the man, in an anxious inquiring tone.

'Yes, William; He is very near me, and I can and do,” replied the weak voice of John Smith.

These were the last words Mary Johnson heard him distinctly utter, for she immediately withdrew and left the two brothers to themselves. As she sat in the outer room with the two girls, one by her side and the other on her lap, she heard low and solemn voices in the chamber for a while. Then the stranger came out and beckoned his two nieces into the room; and then, half an hour afterwards, they and their uncle came out again, they crying very bitterly, for their father was dead-they had seen him die.

"Come with me, my dears, into my room up-stairs," said Mary Johnson, gently and kindly. "I will take care of and it is better for you not to remain here just now."

you;

And in their sore distress they clung to her as she led them away tenderly, as something she had at last found to love.

66

"NO ROAD."

HOLLO! what's up now? What's the matter here?” cried a workman as, together with his mates in the same employ, he returned to the place of labour after absence on duty elsewhere. They were brought to a stand by a board having an inscription upon it NO ROAD, and by a broad deep ditch across the path.

"What's up? What's down, you mean," said another, pausing to listen as cries from some mysterious depth reached their ears again.

"Help, help! for life and mercy, help!"

Why, where be ye?" cried one, staring round with amazement. "Sure it ain't nobody down in the sewer

there.

"The more fool he. Why didn't he mind the notice?" said another labourer coming up; " let him enjoy himself there a bit, till it's convenient to clear him out."

"Nay, nay, Williams," said the first speaker, "that mustn't be; he'll be suffocated before long. Come, my mates, who'll help? I'm going down."

The ladders were properly lowered, and as no leader in an act of humanity ever lacks followers among our honest sons of toil, plenty of help was immediately given; and after some little time in clearing away the rubbish which had been thrown down by the fall of the unlucky simpleton who disregarded the notice, a human form was brought above ground on the stout back of one of the labourers. Whoever he was he seemed much exhausted, and did not at once recover either the fright or the fall.

"What for didn't ye mind the notice? Do you think it's put up for nothing?" asked one of the rescue party.

"I thought I could have leaped over the opening when I once got to the top of the heap of rubbish spread along there," replied the poor gentleman when able to speak quietly, "but I found it too wide.”

"In course it was, else what was the good of writing no road' up over a place where a man might play at hop, skip, and jump?"

"And when I tried to scramble back again, the heap gave way, and slid me down the wrong side into that abominable hole.”

"Well," said the listener, laughing, "it's good for you

that we came along in time; and you won't be trying this game again in a hurry, I reckon."

"Don't, sir," said the man who first volunteered help; "it isn't every despiser of warnings that gets safe up out of the ditch."

There was evidently more than met the ear under these simple words.

"One for him and two for me, I suppose, brother Bob," said another of the men, slily, and turning to the rescued passenger, who was considering how best to reward his preservers for their timely help; "he's a sort of preacher you see, master, and you've given him a text that does his heart good, and makes for his way of thinking; he holds there's only one way to heaven, and that no road' means what it says, and if folks go climbing up some other way, belike they'll find the gap too wide, and come down into a worse pit than this, and no strong fellows near to haul them out again."

"Is it so? Is that what you think, my friend?" asked the gentleman in surprise.

"I read it in the book of God, sir," replied the man, fixing a fearless eye upon the questioner's face, and respectfully taking off his cap. "It is said of the Lord Jesus. Christ, Neither is there salvation in any other; for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.' And the Lord himself declared, I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but by me:' he may come of himself to a judge who is obliged to condemn, but only in Jesus Christ can he come to a Father who loves to forgive. The Lord Jesus in my place, punished for my sins, I in his place, by believing his words and works, accepted before God; that's the gospel, sir; let poor sinners bless him for it."

"There," said Robert's brother, triumphantly, "didn't I tell you he could preach when he has a mind."

"But cannot we do our best in this world, and trust God's mercy for the next?" asked the gentleman, who still stood among them shaking and rubbing his bemired clothes.

"That's what I say, master," broke in one of the group. "I like to have a hand in it as far as I can; else what's the good of being sober and honest and industrious, if it's to go for nothing, I should like to know."

"It doesn't go for nothing, Will, it goes for a great deal:

6

it keeps you from the jail, the gallows, and the workhouse; it finds you friends and home; it has its reward down here: but what is all that to the God you do not love, nor think about, nor worship in Spirit and in truth?' Has he not said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and mind and strength,' and isn't that the first commandment of his holy law? You forget that we are not brute beasts with a life no higher than the dust our bodies are made of. We are immortal souls with the breath of God within us, that craves for him again. We can't reach him, but he reached us, and in the arms of his blessed Son takes us to his heart again. Sober, and honest, and industrious are all right down here, and are excellent for the body's health and comfort; but for getting across the gulf that sin made between God and man they are no more use than that heap of rubbish there that the gentleman found so slippery; nay, they may be used sometimes to hide the gap and tempt men to think they can make a road in spite of the notice." And he looked at his brother, who shouldering his tools, began to prepare for descending the ladder to his work.

"It's a fine thing to have a bit of learning, isn't it, sir?" said he; "only it's as well to open our eyes, and use it to read a notice when it stares us in the face," and his own cheerful face disappeared behind the heap.

"Shure now it isn't meself that's thinking of gettin' to heaven of meself anyhow," exclaimed a tall fellow following him; "I've left it all to the priest and the Virgin, and I does me penance and pays me dues, and no more trouble about it. I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to think I could save me little finger at all."

"God help thee to learn that there's no road' that way either," said the Christian man, earnestly. "There is but one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus. 6 Having therefore boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus,' 'having an high priest over the house of God,' all is done for us, all is ready. Let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith,' and no meddlers and make-believes between us and our Saviour."

"What!" exclaimed Pat, "ain't ye afeard of spakin' about Him widout his blessed mother and the priest to screen ye?" and he crossed himself.

"Afraid! Ah, Pat. 'We have not an high priest who