profound meaning, are so defectively written that none but experts can decipher them. Skilled and practised men can piece them together, and gather the sense where, to ordinary eyes, only unconnected scrawls appear. Such should not be the writing on a disciple's life. If it be such, most people will fail to understand it. It should be clear and bold throughout, that he may run who reads it.

a kind of writing that even the blind can read. The letters, instead of merely appealing to the eye by their colour, are raised from the surface s as to be sensible to touch. Such, methinks, should be the writing of Christ's mind on a Christian's conversation! It should be raised in characters so large, and sharp, and high, that even the blind, who cannot see, may be compelled, by contact with Christians, to feel that

H, thou on thy sick-bed kept watchful and waking

through;

It seems as if God were His servant forsaking—

His servant so trustful and true!

Ah no; for He giveth me songs in the darkness That never I heard in the day:

66 Thine eyes shall behold the King in His beauty, The land that is far, far away."

Poor sufferer! the wild sounds of revel oppress thee,

That rise through the stilly night air;

The noise of the world's mirth must sorely dis

tress thee

That mirth which thou never canst share. Oh no; for an angel is warbling beside me An anthem so soft and so clear,-"Thine eyes shall behold the King in His beauty;" And this is the song which I hear:

Angel's Song.

I come down to cheer thee, O happy Immortal, Whom grace hath from bondage set free, Whilst yet thou art waiting before the high portal Which one day will open for thee.

I bear thee a promise, the sweetest, the surest, "Tis sent from the God who is love,

I saw Him, and marvelled to see.

I saw Him-the Saviour-despised and rejected, A mourner, acquainted with grief;

I longed-how I longed!-that when mortals neglected,

The seraphs might bring Him relief. I heard the fierce blasphemies scornfully uttered By scribe and by proud Pharisee; Mine eyes then beheld the King in His trials, I saw-much perplexed to see.

I saw-but the tongue of an angel must falter
That mystery of love to declare-

I saw upon Calvary raised the dread altar,
A cross, and a Victim was there.
There was silence in heaven-there was wonder
in heaven-

All gazed on that one awful tree;
Mine eyes then beheld the King in His anguish,
I saw Him, and trembled to see.

And thou too shalt see Him, that bliss is before thee,

But not in His weakness or pain,— When, girded with power and mantled in glory, The Victim returneth to reign;

When thou art, like angels, above."

I saw Him when in His own world as a stranger

Appeared the omnipotent Lord;

I hovered in ecstasy over His manger,

And with the meek shepherds adored.

SN'T it lonely lying here all day with nothing going on?"

"Oh no, ma'am! So many things have happened to me, you can't think. If it isn't too bold for a poor girl like me to tell it over to a lady like you, I could begin to tell it now. You would like to hear all about it?

"Well, the first thing that happened to me was mother's giving me the baby to hold. I was just turned of four, and my sister Jenny was going on two, and the baby was just a baby, not any years old.

"Lizzie,' says mother, 'you're a great girl now. You're four years old; and I'm going to trust the baby to you.'

"It was the first thing that happened to me. It made me feel grown-up. I thought I was a woman,

sure.

"After that I nursed the baby, and kept him from putting things into his mouth, and hushed him when he cried, and got him to sleep. He kept growing and growing; and when he was down on the floor, crawling into everything, another one came. And mother trusted me more than ever, and I washed and dressed both of them.

"Did I ever get time to play about?

"Oh no, ma'am. For as fast as one baby got to crawling around, another kept coming; and mother said I was the oldest, and play was for little children and little dogs and cats, but not for big girls like me. When I was ten years old, we had six of them besides me." "Six little dogs and cats ?”

"Oh no, ma'am ; six little children that had been babies.

"And then the next thing happened. One day, when I was carrying Jim up-stairs-he'd been crying to be took out-doors, and I'd been-taking him out, and he'd seen a monkey with a little red cap on: well, my two legs just slipped out from under me, and I tumbled right into the room and bumped his forehead, dreadful. "You bad child,' says mother, and took him away, and put water on his forehead, and kissed him.

"I lay there on the floor; if you would be pleased to look, ma'am, you'd see the very place.

"And says I, 'I couldn't help it, mother. It was my two legs as went right out, and I can't get up.' "Mother she looked scared like, but one of the neighbours was there, and says she,

"Let her be; she's only shamming. I know these girls!'

"So mother let me be, and I lay flat on the floor, as

still as a mouse, till father came home and nearly tumbled

over me.

“Hallo!' says he; whatever is the matter now?' ""She's been a-laying there doing nothing these two hours,' says mother; and Mrs. Jones, she says she's making it.'

"Mrs. Jones,' says father, 'there's the door; and I rather think it's wide enough for you to get out at, but the next time you want to get in you'll find it's grown

narrow.'

"So Mrs. Jones she went away very red in the face, and father he picked me up and set me up on end. "Now, little woman, whatever is it ails you?' says

he.

"I don't know, father. It's been coming on ever so long. My legs have got so shaky that it seemed as if there wasn't any bones in 'em. And the pains in my back have took me bad between times.'

"Father didn't say another word, and he didn't eat any supper, and after he'd lighted his pipe, he just sat thinking. Mother didn't say anything either. She undressed me and put me to bed; and then such a thing happened! I don't want to talk much about it. It chokes me in the throat if I do. You wouldn't hardly believe it, ma'am, I'd been a big girl so long, but she reached over where I lay close to the wall to make room for the rest, and she kissed me! O, how I hoped my two legs would get well, so that she needn't have a sick child to take care of! But they didn't, and I got weaker every day, till I felt like a great long piece of thread dangling about. So father took me in his arms to the doctor's.

"I felt so ashamed when the neighbours all came out and looked at me, and saw Mrs. Jones a-laughing quite hard!

"But the doctor did not laugh at all when father carried me in and showed him my legs.

"Yes, they're a couple of pipe-stems, and no more,' says he. And then he began to punch me all up and down the spine of my back, and in some places hurt me dreadful.

"Well, my little woman,' says he, 'what have you been doing all your life now?'

"Nursing the children, sir,' says I.

"I thought so,' says he. 'Eating bad food, breathing bad air, and doing the work of a grown person.— Have you any friends in the country you could send her to, my man?'

666

No, sir,' says father; 'not one.'

"There's little else to be done for her,' says the

doctor.

"What kind of food, sir?' says father.

"Beef and mutton, beef and mutton,' says the doctor.

"Father shut his teeth together hard.

"I'll put you in the way of getting what the child needs in that line,' says the doctor, and he wrote something on a piece of paper.

"There, take that to the street and number I have written here, show it to some of the people there, and you'll get beef tea, and other things of the sort. Keep up her strength and spirits, and she may come round yet.'

"I believe it was a big kitchen father was to go to, where nice things are cooked for poor people when they're sick.

"But as we were coming away the doctor says, 'Mind, my man, green fields and fresh milk in the country are worth all the beef teas in the world for a case like this.'

"When we got home, and mother asked what the doctor said, father wouldn't answer at first. At last says he, He wants her to swallow down some fine lady's diamond necklace.'

come and take us all into the country and give us strawberries to eat.

"Mother, how does strawberries grow?' says I. "Why, on bushes, child!' says she. How else should they grow?'

"When father came home he laughed at that, and asked her if she supposed potatoes grew on trees?

"Why shouldn't they?' says she. And, anyhow, how should I know? Was I ever out of London in my life?

"It kept the children quiet to hear me talk, ma'am, only the little ones believed every word, and they're always looking for the lady to come and fetch them away.

"The next thing that happened was father's bringing home to me a picture of the country, all green and blue; splendid. You can see it nailed up there, opposite my bed.

"But you don't seem surprised, ma'am. Doesn't it look like the country? Did you say you wanted to take it down and put up a better one? O please, ma'am, I love it so dearly!

"Father went away to his work, and mother kept groaning about the diamond necklace.

"How's it to be got?' says she; and how could swallowing it down bring the bones into your legs, I should like to know?'

"The doctor says it ain't my legs as ails me,' says I. 'It's the spine of my back.'

"Them doctors, they thinks they know everything,' says mother. Didn't you say as it was your two legs as went out from under you? And them diamonds, they do worry me so !'

"I lay still, and thought, and thought. When the spine of your back aches the worst, you get so sharp!

"And says I at last,-'I know what father meant. The doctor wanted me to be took off into the country, to drink milk and smell the green grass; and that would cost money-ever and ever so much money. For it's too far for father to carry me, and I should have to ride in something.'

"But it's the diamonds as worries me,' says mother; and I couldn't get 'em out of her head, and the children they all plagued her, and I wasn't there to help, and she looked ready to drop. I got away down into the bed, and cried to think how drove she was..

"And then I brightened up and called the children to me, and told them stories out of my head about things father had told me of. I put in green meadows, and nice, quiet church-yards, where ivy grew all the year round, and there were pretty little graves for the good children to go to sleep in. And I says, 'Let's make believe that, some day, a lady with a gold ring on her

So.

"I wondered what poor little children did who had something the matter with the spine of their backs, but never had anything happen to pass away the time. And I wished I could lend them my picture, a week at a time, turn about and turn about.

"I hadn't got used to having it, and was lying so peaceful and happy thinking about it, when father came in one night as mother was just a-going to undress me, and he got a sight of my back when she was rubbing it.

"He bursted right out crying, loud, and then mother bursted out, and all the children cried, and I bit my lips and held my hands together, and at last I bursted out too. For I knew then that my father and mother had got a hunchback for their oldest child. At last father stopped short off, and then mother and the children stopped, and I hushed up pretty quick.

"Peggy,' says father, 'go and tell that woman Jones to come here.'

"I'm afraid to, father,' says Peggy. She says we set ourselves up above the common, and she laughs at us.' "Do as I bid you,' says father; and Peggy had to

go.

"Mrs. Jones came quick.

"Look here,' says father; 'look at this child's back, and put it alongside of the day you said she was making believe sick. Well, have you seen it? Maybe the day'll come when you'd like to eat them words of yours.'

"Mrs. Jones she felt bad, and I felt bad, and I called

her to me, and says I,-'Don't lay it up against father, and I'll give you my beautiful new picture, full of green trees, and blue sky, and cows and sheep.'

"What, that little flared-up thing on the wall?' says she 'thank you, I rather think you can keep it, and welcome, for me.'

'You see, there was always something going on that passed away the time.

"Father used to talk to us about his young sister Rose, who was at service in a gentleman's family, ten miles from London.

"She got a holiday soon after this, and came to see US. She told me more about what the country was like than ever father had, and all about the young ladies she took care of, and their toys and books.

"You couldn't believe, ma'am, how it passed away the time to hear her talk.

“And then she asked me if I liked to read, and what books I had got.

"Then I had to tell her that I had never been to school, and didn't know how to read.

""Poor little soul!' says she, and put on her bonnet, and went and bought a book, out of her own savings, and wrote my name in it, and taught me great A, and little a, that very day. And she took me in her arms and hugged me, and said,-"O that I could carry this poor lamb home with me, and give her what my young ladies waste every day of their lives!'

"Please, ma'am, did ever anybody hug you and say such nice things?

"After that, my father taught me all my letters, and, all of a sudden, I could read!

"It was a big book that my aunt gave me. She said she got it because it would last me so long, and amuse me till I got another. It was called the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and was full of beautiful stories and pictures. I could tell it all to you, if it wouldn't tire you, ma'am. "O, you've got one too! How nice! Have you got any other books? But mother looked in just now, and coughed twice. She thinks I am talking too much. "You're not tired, ma'am?

"I read my book, and read it, and as soon as I got to the end I began it again; and I showed the pictures to the children, and, Sundays, I read out of it to father and mother. Father is tender like, and the tears would keep rolling down his cheeks when I read the prettiest parts; and one day he said, 'I'll tell you what it is, Lizzie; I've a good mind to go on a pilgrimage myself.' "I felt awful bad when he said that, for I wanted to go too; but how could I, with the bones gone out of my two legs?

"Father sat quiet, thinking and thinking. At last he got up all of a spring like, and put on his hat and went out.

"Where's father gone to now?' says mother. 'Not to any of them gin-shops, I hope.'

"No!' says I, 'he's gone on a pilgrimage, I do expect.'

"Mother laughed, and said that wasn't so bad as them gin-shops, any way.

"But I felt bad and lonesome, and as if he'd gone and left me behind. And I couldn't get to sleep for thinking about it, till I heard his step on the stairs. He wouldn't tell where he'd been to, and we all went to sleep. But the next day he said he'd been to hear the preaching at a big church.

"I was lifted away up to the third heaven,' says he; 'and I sang hymns too.' "That's a lie, Joe,' don't know how to sing.

says mother; 'for hymns you Better own it and done with it. You was a-singing songs at the gin-shops.' "That I wasn't, then,' says father; 'I was at Westminster Abbey, where they bury the grand folks, and the hymns hung all round the walls, printed in letters as big as the top of my thumb. Come, if you don't believe it, go with me next Sunday night and see for yourself.'

"Indeed I won't then. says mother. 'Westminster Abbey, indeed! with a bonnet and shawl like mine!'

"The preaching's for poor folks, and poor folks goes to hear it,' says father.

"And ain't you a-going on a pilgrimage, after all?' says I.

"Yes, my lass, I am,' says he. I'll learn all about it at the preaching, you see.'

"After he'd gone off to his work, mother says,-'I'll go with him next time, you may depend. Something's come over him.'

"The day but one after that, father come home all eager like, and says he,-'Lizzie, child, mightn't it amuse you if you had a flower a-growing in the window there? For the men talked at their work to-day about a 'Society for the Promotion of Window Gardening among the Poor,' and they say there's just been a flowershow, and prizes given to them as raised the handsomest ones. Wray's girl, Betsy, got a prize of six shillings for hers.'

"You don't say so !' says mother.

"Yes,' says father; and what's more, I've got a beautiful rare plant for Lizzie here: poor soul, it will be company for her these long days!'

"Pshaw!' says father, whatever ails my eyes to water so easy? See, here's the little wee thing.'

"I almost screamed when I saw it, I was so glad. It was a-setting out in a little flower-pot, and its leaves was all green.

"Which of you two is the biggest fool, I wonder?' says mother. There! now you've slopped water all over the bed-clothes and everything!'

"I was only giving my plant a little drink,' says I. "I called watering it giving it a drink, I was so silly.

"Of course, I'm the biggest fool,' says father, and he laughed real pleased like.

"Everything runs to societies nowadays,' says mother. 'I wish they'd offer prizes to them as has the most children and the handsomest ones. I'd go in for it, that I would! It ain't gentlemen's children as gets all the good looks.'

"No, nor the sense either,' says father.

"There ain't many young ones as sets alone the day they're four months old,' says mother. 'See here! This one beats all our babies. And what did I pay for him at the shops? La, nothing at all, bless you; and so he ain't fit to fetch a prize.'

"I didn't pay anything for Lizzie's plant, if that's what vexes you,' says father. 'Hicks gave it to me. He said he got it from his wife's second cousin, whose half-brother was nephew to one of the gardeners at Osborne, and that it's something costly and precious.'

"Next news you'll say you dug it up in Paradise,' says mother.

"Maybe,' says father. See, Lizzie, spell out the name that's wrote on this paper: or, no, you can't read writing. Perhaps I can.'

"So, after a deal of time, and spelling of it over, and scratching his head, he read it out, so :—

"Calendula officinalis.'

"That sounds splendid!' says I, and was sorry when it grew dark, because I could not watch it and see it grow. Father said the next exhibition would be on June the nineteenth, 1868, and he was sure it would be a big, strong plant by that time, thick with leaves and flowers.

"And if you'll believe it, ma'am, after a while it did have a little mite of a leaf, and it grew up tall and leaned one side, and then grew some more and leaned the other side.

"O! it was such company for me, and I loved it so ! Even mother, with all she had to do, got to watching it.

"So it went on all winter long, and in the spring a little bud came, and it took father and me a week to get over that. By-and-by, you could see little streaks of orange colour in the bud, and we talked about that, and were afraid the flower wouldn't bloom out for the right day, and then we were afraid it would bloom too soon. Somebody told father to cut a little ring cut of stiff paper and put it on to keep it back; he said they always did so with choice flowers. Then I laughed, and said I was a choice flower too, for something had kept me back from growing into a big girl.

"Then father said it was good to hear me laugh, and that I was a choice flower, ring or no ring. That's just father's way, please, ma'am.

"O! how pretty my flower looked the day before the show! I was sure it would get the prize, for there couldn't possibly be a flower so beautiful as mine. Father carried it on his way to his work, and promised to bring it back, prize and all, at night.

"But I can't tell the rest now, ma'am. Something's asqueezing and a-crowding at my heart, and I feel faintlike. It's nothing to be scared about. I'm often took

So.

"There! it's all gone now. But you say I mustn't talk any more? You say that you'll come again to hear the rest? Thank you, ma'am."

he had dreamed, for his hands were so feeble and trembled so, that he could not use a knife. He suffered much pain, too, and could no longer bear the wooden leg being fastened on, so that he had to be lifted from his bed to the arm-chair, where he sat all day. Immediately below his room lived a young locksmith, Joseph by name, who had learned to love old Eli, and came every evening to help him to bed, and in the morning to carry him to his chair in the window. Beside the chair stood a small table, on which Eli's Bible and hymn book lay. With these he occupied himself all day, reading God's Word, and singing the hymns of his childhood in such a soft