therefore will I hope in him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord. . . . For the Lord will not cast off for ever but though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies. For

he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men, to crush under his feet all the prisoners of the earth."*

But from this happier frame of reviving faith, Henry was recalled.

"You have told me nothing of your success to-day, Henry. You have succeeded, have you not?" said the wife, timidly; so timidly, that it might have been seen that doubt and fear predominated over hope.

"Succeeded? why, yes, Annie, if that can be called success which is-but never mind, I don't know what to say. I have succeeded, however; obtained enough from the firm to pay Mr. M-, and two or three of our neighbours as well, and to have some left behind-see;" and the husband emptied his purse on to the table. It was not much that it contained. It seemed so little to Annie, that she involuntarily exclaimed, in a tone of dismay—

66

Oh, Henry! Is that all ?"

66 All, Annie. All I have left."

"Dear Henry, I thought--I hoped at least" she could not go on. She did not wish to distress her husband; she would willingly have suffered almost any privation herself, uncomplainingly; but she thought of Charley, her sick boy, and of the physician, whose fees-though not exorbitant-had hitherto been ready for placing in his hand, though at what sacrifices they had been obtained, the parents only knew. She thought of the numberless small, yet expensive delicacies it was necessary to procure to tempt his languid appetite, and of the costly wine which the doctor said was needful to be ministered-ah no! not to his restoration, but to delay the progress of his insidious disease, and to lengthen, it might be by a few weeks, the short span of his remaining life. The mother thought of all this; and do you wonder that when she looked at the scanty little heap of silver, with perhaps one or two golden coins beside it, and thought also how long it must be before

* Lamentations iii. 21-34,

another supply could be hoped for, her fortitude gave way, for one short moment?

"I thought," she said, mournfully; "I hoped, at least—" "I thought too, Annie, that I should have met with more success, " her husband said mournfully. "I had prepared myself to tell Mr. Halifax all; and you know, dearest, what an effort that would have cost me. But I had reasoned myself, and, I hope, prayed myself, out of the sinful pride which has kept my mouth closed so long; and I think I could have done it, God helping me. I think, too, Mr. Halifax would have listened-at least, I hoped he would; and would have felt sorry for us, and sympathized, even if he had not helped: but it was not to be." "Why, Henry? Why not to be?"

"I was met at once with a request not to speak of my private affairs. He had not time, Mr. Halifax said, to listen to me; and besides, he and the partners made it a rule to know nothing out of business of the persons they employ. What could I say after that, Annie ?"

"You could not say anything, Henry; but, how heartless of Mr. Halifax!" said the wife, almost indignantly.

"No, I do not say that, Annie. Perhaps he is right. The firm employ a great number of men, many of them not of the best character in private, I am afraid; and some who would not scruple, perhaps, to impose in many ways on their employers, if those employers were too sensitive and tender-hearted and credulous."

They need not be credulous, Henry; but can Christians-Christians," Annie repeated the word with much emphasis; "can Christians be too kind and tender-hearted?" "I am not sure, Annie; perhaps not," replied the husband, wearily; "but there is much to be said on both sides, no doubt. I thought there was much to be said on their side when Mr. Halifax was speaking, my dear."

"And must we go on, always, always, in this misery, Henry, when a word of kindness spoken, an act of kindness performed, which would cost nothing to them, would help us, oh so much?" The wife broke down here. She felt the misery, even as her husband had felt it. Her faith was weak, perhaps, even as his was weak; and when two weak faiths come together, they don't make one strong faith by any means; they only serve, sometimes, to make the weak faith yet weaker. Don't condemn our weak believers, you who have a stronger faith. They were

sorely tried. There was a dark cloud overshadowing them, and they feared. They could hardly believe that their Lord and Saviour was in the cloud.

"And must we always, always, go on in this misery ?" "It almost seems so," said Henry Johnson, sadly. "It is very terrible," he added; and the thought of their dying boy, of their debt, and of many things besides, pressed on his heart with a cold iron weight. His faith in God's promises, and in Christ's love, was almost gone, you see, for a moment. But it was only for a little while.

"It is wrong to say what we are saying-wrong to think so," he said, presently, as he sat with his hand pressing against his pale, moist brow. "It will not be

always so, Annie, I hope. God helping us, we shall get over these difficulties some day. If they had been brought on us by our own faults and extravagances and follies we might with reason doubt it; but you know they were not, Annie."

“They were not, indeed, Henry. If you had been less generous and more selfish, you might have avoided them. And this makes the selfishness of others seem so much the more odious. And it is selfish and unchristian of such men as Mr. Halifax—”

66

Hush, my dear! I cannot so strongly, so very strongly, condemn my employers. They have helped us very often, have they not? without asking a question; and only because they believed they could place confidence in me. Besides this, they deal liberally with me. It is not to be wondered at, then, that their patience has given way. Really, Annie, looking at it from their point of view, I am almost ready to say that they are right, and to look upon myself as most unreasonable and encroaching."

"They are not right, Henry. There's nothing in the Bible that can make it right," rejoined Annie, still speaking very mournfully. "The Bible tells Christians to be pitiful to one another, and to bear one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ. It asks Christians whether the love of God can be in them if they see a poor brother in need, and shut up their compassion against him. Don't tell me, Henry, that your employers can be right. They ought to interest themselves in the affairs of those whom they employ. They ought, at least, to listen when they are appealed to. Mr. Halifax ought to have heard what you had to say, and wished to tell him."

66

It is not necessary to write down any more of this conversation. Indeed there was not much more said before Annie Johnson was called away to her sick son; and then her husband, after a loving visit to Charley, and a fervent prayer by his couch, and an anguished heart answering to the appeal of those silent yet eloquent pleading eyes which, looking into his face, seemed to say, Why cannot you restore me?"-shut himself once more in his workshop, and, by the light of his solitary lamp, toiled on and on and on till midnight, and past midnight, praying sometimes silently and sometimes in deep broken words of heartfelt grief, and returning faith,-" Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on my son!"

AN UPRIGHT TRADESMAN'S TRIALS.

"OUR neighbour Wallace has just been in to tell me that Grey's shop, in the market-place, has been taken by-whom think you?"

1

This was said by Mr. Prentice, a draper in a market town in one of the midland counties, to his wife, whom he found seated, as he expected, in the parlour behind the shop, occupied with some matters relating to business, in which she rendered very efficient assistance. Mr. P. had been in business about fifteen years; and though not one of the most pushing and energetic men in the world, by dint of steady perseverance he had raised himself to a good position. He was highly respected in the town as a sincere Christian and an upright tradesman. People could rely on his articles being good, and were quite sure they would be honestly dealt with. He had, besides, a kind word for everybody, and that kind of genial manner which made it pleasant to deal with him. His wife was an excellent woman, of cheerful temper, and sound judgment; but, best of all, of sterling principle and strong faith in God. In their early struggles-for they had commenced in a very moderate style, and with very little capital-she had endured bravely a good deal of self-denial, and much hard work, both in her household and in the business. They were now enjoying, in some degree, the reward of their toil and thrift in somewhat easier circumstances, and were indulging what seemed the reasonable hope of still larger and uninterrupted success, when something hap

pened which, for a time, threw a cloud over their prospects, and involved them in much anxiety. "Who is it?"

"I cannot tell," was the reply. "John Ryle," said he.

"John Ryle!" she exclaimed; and for a moment or two a shade passed over her countenance.

It was not quite without reason. John Ryle had been first apprentice, and afterwards, for a short time, an assistant in their shop, and had left them about three years ago. Their remembrances of him were not of the pleasantest kind. He was a clever salesman; but they had found him to be selfish and unscrupulous. In the prosecution of his master's business, he had often expressed his impatience of what he called the "slow" way in which things were done; and he had attempted to introduce some practices which, had they been allowed, might have increased Mr. Prentice's gains greatly; but which, because they were unfair, he peremptorily forbade. During the time which had elapsed since his leaving Mr. P. he had been in two or three large establishments in London, for the purpose, as he said, of seeing how things were carried on in different places where there was something like life; but all the places were of the same order-shops in which all sorts of schemes were tried to arrest public attention, and in which a large amount of business was done; but which had the reputation in the trade of being more keen than honest. His mother was a widow, possessed of a tolerable amount of property, but foolishly indulgent. He was her only son; and she had denied him nothing. He had never any lack of pocket-money, and he spent it, even when an apprentice, very lavishly. He was now engaged to be married to the daughter of a neighbouring farmer, who was reputed to be a substantial sort of man. His ability, the amount of capital he could command from his mother and his intended father-in-law, rendered him a rival somewhat formidable to a tradesman who was only just beginning to surmount his early difficulties. He talked very boastfully of what he would do. His setting-up in business should be an era in the trade of the town it was high time the old-fashioned ways of doing business were superseded by something more enterprising and vigorous. He would conduct his business according to the methods adopted in the best London houses. To all this, he added, in quarters where he