grief would allow her to say no more. She put forth her thin arms, and placing them around the boy, drew him close to her, kissed him, and gave vent to her feelings in tears.

It was night, cold and dark. The only light they bad was a small glimmering which shone through the small window of their cellar from a lamp in the court outside. The fire went out, the fuel was done, and the room grew quite cold. The cupboard, or rather the shelf, for they had no cupboard, was empty. All that day they had been without food, and for many days they had not had sufficient.

Some years before they had a home, which, though a poor one, was the abode of peace. Tom's father, a good, honest man, but as poor as he was honest, died, and left to his widow no fortune but poor Tom, a few household goods such as are usually found in the homes of the industrious poor, and the usual benefits of a sick society. Thus at a very early age Tom was an orphan, with no possessions but a small picture-book and a plaything known as a monkey up a stick.

When Mrs. Foster had purchased black for herself and the boy, buried her husband, and paid the various little debts incurred by her husband's protracted sickness, the ten pounds which she got from the club was almost all gone. She had been accustomed to work all her life, and had no difficulty therefore in bringing her mind to it now. She was willing enough, and then able enough to set to work for herself and son; but the thing to be considered was, where was the work to be had? What could she get to do? After thinking of many things, the most likely seemed to be charing. This kind of work she sought and found, and could have managed tolerably if she could have got enough of it. This was the difficulty.

After months had passed she found herself getting behind. She worked hard to pay her way, but could not. Rent days came, and no rent was ready. Then began her troubles. The landlord grew impatient and demanded his rent. The poor widow pleaded her poverty, but that does not pay accounts. Everything that she could pawn she had done in order to meet the demands of hunger and the landlord. Her boxes were not like some parts of the sea are said to be," bottomless." She had pawned or sold all they had contained, and then sold the boxes themselves.

One morning, when they had eaten the last bit of bread for breakfast, and the widow was wondering where she should go for a day's work to get the next meal, the door opened and a stranger walked in. He was a rather stout-looking gentleman-one of that class known in some parts of the country as the "bombs," or the bailiffs.

The house did not contain much; but what there was he took. When all was sold the amount due for rent was not covered. Not knowing what to do, and a little frightened, she gave up the key. And now she and her boy were without a home of any kind. Their

only refuge was the streets, and their only cover the wide arch of heaven or the narrow arch of some railway.

For some hours they wandered from place to place, wondering where they should pass the night. At length, wearied with walking and faint with hunger, they sat down upon a door-step. Tom began to cry for bread, but the mother could give him none. Her sorrow was indescribable. A lady passing where they sat heard the lad's cry, saw the woman's distress, and inquired its cause. With a sad heart the poor widow told her tale. It was so simple, yet mournful, that it was effectual. It touched the tenderest feelings of the kindhearted lady. She gave her five shillings and a card. After bidding her call next day at the address printed on the card, she wished them a good eve.

If the prayers of a poor widow can bring blessings from God's throne they would fall upon that lady like showers on the mown grass. And who would say that they cannot ? Is not God the "Father of the fatherless and the husband of the widow?" In sending this angel of mercy, this minister of life, He was supplying the wants of both.

New life and hope were infused into the poor widow's heart when she was quite sure that she really had got the five shillings, and was not dreaming, as she half supposed. They found lodgings, had a good warm meal, retired full of thankfulness, and slept well. Applying next day at the house named, she got employment, by means of which she supported herself and son, and soon had a somewhat comfortable room in which to live. This continued for a considerable number of months. But the widow was to have more disappointment. Her employer was obliged to leave the country, and once more Mrs. Foster's income was a very uncertain thing. "Misfortunes seldom come single." Her health, which for some time had been giving way, now failed. For a considerable time she was laid aside, unable to do anything. Their wants were few; but with no income they soon used up what little cash the widow had saved. Once more she was obliged to part with her clothing, and exchange her comfortable room for the cold, dark cellar in which we now find her. Here she has been for some weeks, sick all the time.

Every day she grew worse, until we find her, cold, feeble, dying, upon a bundle of straw. For herself she has no wish to live. Death to her, as to thousands of others, would be a happy release. But what will become of her boy? As she clasped him to her bosom and wept, the tears wet his face.

"Don't cry, mother," said be. "I will go out; perhaps some one will give me a bit of bread. I will bring it to you, for I know you are very hungry." "The Lord protect you, my child," said the sick woman, as she released her hold upon him. "I won't be long, mother," said Tom, as he seized his cap and made for the door, which he soon closed behind him, leaving his mother in the cold, damp cellar.

CHAPTER II.-MORE SORROW.

Ir was December. The night was cold and wet. Snow had fallen, and the streets were thickly covered with sleet. Cabs and omnibuses dashed through the mud, whilst foot passengers hurried along as if bent upon reaching home. Men with warm overcoats and mufflers, women with thick jackets and shawls, protected themselves from the bad weather. It was one of those nights which make us thankful for a shelter, and dispose us to pity the poor.

Tom soon found himself in the public streets, his bare feet smarting with the cold. On he went, up one street and down another, scarcely knowing where he went. He looked imploringly into many faces, but no one seemed to notice him. Hungry and cold, he sat down upon a door-step and began to cry. But suddenly recollecting his dying mother, he wiped his eyes and face as well as he could with the sleeve of his jacket. He wondered what he could do, or where he could go, to get a little bread. Once more trudging along, he determined to go to a big house a little distance off. He remembered that his mother had told him as they passed one day how rich the people were who lived there, and what a lot of servants they always kept. He was soon at the door, and after a while rang the bell as gently as he could. Shortly the door was opened by a man who looked at the boy as savagely as he knew how to do. Trembling with fear and cold, Tom said: "If you please, sir, will you give me a———— "Before he had time to finish his request the cold-hearted man shut the door in his face.

We leave our readers to imagine what Tom's feelings would be as he turned from the great house. Disheartened, he passed along the next street, and stopped once or twice to look into the shop windows. There was bread enough and to spare, it seemed to him; but, alas! "6 no one gave unto him." Spurred on by the thoughts of his mother, he determined to ask for a bit of bread in one of the large shops. Passing the door of a bread-shop several times, he mustered courage at length to enter. Walking to the end of the shop, where stood the master, he said: "If you please, sir, will you give me a crust ? I do not want it for myself-my mother is sick and hungry. Please give me one for her." The shopman, accustomed to tales of poverty, many of them doubtless false, had hardened his heart against all beggars. Looking somewhat sternly at the boy, he said: "Go tell your mother to work for her crusts."

This was almost more than he could bear. Turning from the shop with a heavy heart, he retraced his steps towards home. He was afraid to ask again. As he passed along a principal street a gentleman suddenly leaped from a horse, and cried: "Here, boy, hold this horse." Tom seized the bridle and kept the horse there, until his owner returned, leaped into the saddle, throwing twopence to Tom as he drove away. Into the first bread-shop Tom darted, got two buns, put down his twopence, and ran towards home as fast as ever he could. Breathless, he reached the door, quietly opened it, and

slipped in. All was quiet. His mother was asleep. He did not wake her, but waited until she spoke.

"Tom," said she, faintly, when he had been in a little while. "Yes, mother," said Tom, "I am here--I told you I would not be long. I have two buns for you." But the woman needed no bread. Bidding him eat one himself, she lay silent for a while. "Tom," said she, "God is going to take me away. I shall have to leave you all alone. Very soon you will be without both father and mother. When I am dead be sure that you are a good boy. I want to give you this," continued she, taking as she spoke from beneath her head a small Testament. "This book was given to me by your dear father. I now give it to you. I have nothing else to give you. Take it, and promise me that you will never part with it."

The boy readily promised all she wished him to do. "One thing more," said she. "Read this book every day, and love the Saviour of whom it tells, and of whom I have so often spoken to you. Never let anything nor anybody make you dishonest. Every night and every morning be sure to pray to Jesus, as I have always taught you. The Lord will soon send one of the angels to take me away from this cold, dark place. And when I am gone God will take care of you if you are good. Some day He will send for you; then we shall meet your dear father in heaven and never be parted again."

She kissed her boy, who now lay by her side. There was silence for a while, during which the tired boy fell asleep and forgot all his troubles. When he awoke it was day. He sprang up, leaned over and kissed his mother. He was surprised to find her so cold and still. "Mother! Mother! said Tom, but there was no response. Her troubles here were ended. Her soul had taken its flight, and there lay her lifeless body cold and still.

B

BAND OF HOPE PAPER.

PRAY FOR YOUR FATHERS.

It is greater

OYS and girls do not know their power.
than they think, and if they were always brave
enough to make use of it, they would do a deal of good
in the world.

Let me tell them a true story.

Mr. Leyburn was a kind husband, and Mrs. Leyburn was a dutiful wife. They had been married to each other about nine years, and had two fine children-a boy aged eight and a girl six years of age.

Their home was as comfortable and as attractive as money could make it, for James Leyburn had been a hard-working young man, and, commencing life in the humble position of a clerk, he had risen, by integrity and industry, to be one of the most successful merchants in the town.

He had married a lady rich in worldly possessions and rich in disposition, for Mrs. Leyburn was naturally kind, patient, cheerful, and hopeful.

They were as happy as the day was long, until, alas! James Leyburn gave way to unsteady habits and began to neglect his business and his family.

Things went on from bad to worse until Mrs. Leyburn's jewels had to be sold to pay accounts, and the business, which was doing so well before, was now going to rack and ruin.

Little Charlie was not old enough to realise their altered position, but he knew that things were not altogether right, and even sister Carrie's little face grew troubled, for her papa never seemed to want her now. He never came home early, and never caught her up in his arms and kissed her as he used to do.

She knew, although now she seldom saw him, that something was the matter.

Mamma's looks also showed very plainly that things were not as they used to be, for she always looked poorly, although she was as kind and as attentive to them as ever.

So one day little Carrie called her brother Charlie to her, and, with an anxious face, asked him what was the matter, that mamma looked so troubled, and that papa never came to them

"Father's a beast, and I don't love him a bit," said Charlie.

"Husb, hush," said gentle Carrie; "I love papa very much. Why don't you, Charlie ?"

"Because he stops out late and gets tipsy," said Charlie.

"Let's pray for him," said Carrie, and they did. Charlie first, and then Carrie.

"God bless dear papa, and make him sober. God bless mamma, and make her right well again. God bless Charlie and me, and help us to do papa some good."

As luck-as chance-nay, as God would have it, their father was passing the room door at the time that Carrie's little tongue was lisping this prayer.

I will not weary you with a long story, but if you could only see James Leyburn's happy family now, you would know the result of their prayer.

It did not come right all at once, but that little simple prayer aroused the father's conscience, and he resolved to abstain from the drink, and an ever faithful and ever patient wife has helped him to keep his vow; yes, and his children have helped him too, for, like their dear mamma, they resolved, for father's sake, to have nothing to do with the deadly cup, and often do they pray that God will help them "to do papa some good."

Often does James Leyburn, now the first merchant in town, tell his distinguished guests how it is that he has no wine to offer them, and often does he thank God for two dutiful children who prayed, "God bless dear father, and make him sober."