consequence, caught a heavy cold | divining his niece's intention, and which had laid her on a sick bed desiring to escape her appeal, took for several weeks.

this opportunity to get out. This timely recollection caused And again Myra sighed, this time her to decide upon riding, and she for her lost opportunity. hailed an approaching car, entered, “Fare, miss," said the conductor. and took her seat, her mind so full She opened her portemonnaie of the home wants and worries and took out three pennies, which that she did not glance at her she dropped in the man's hand, fellow-passengers, or notice that an and he turned to the next pasold gentleman moved down to make senger, the old lady wlio had just room for her.

entered, and had taken the seat But presently she looked up, and Uncle Abram had vacated. her face fushed, and her eyes “Fare, ma'am.” filled with sudden tears, as she For a moment the old woman saw and recognised the old man. stared at the conductor as if she She bowed to him in rather an had not heard his words, and then awkward manner, and turned away she began to rummage' in her so that he could not see her facé. capacious pocket. She was a · "How I wish I had the courage shabby-looking old woman in & to speak to him," she thought. rusty black dress, a waterproof “ But then, what would be the use ? cloak much the worse for wear, Have we not appealed to him time and an old-fashioned bonnet with a and again for help, and been met thick, heavily - worked lace veil with only a cold, almost insulting about the brim. Her black cotton refusal ? No; Uncle Abram may gloves were out at the fingers, and keep his money. I will never ask the little reticule she carried looked him again for a shilling."

as if it had seen long and constant Then she thought of her father, service. bowed down and harassed with the “I haven't a halfpenny," she burden of the support of a large said at length, when the patience family; of her mother, whose mind, of the conductor was nearly exlike Martha's, was troubled about hausted. “I must have had my many things; of Tom, whose sweet-pocket picked, for I'm certain I est dream and greatest ambition had a shilling in it half an hour was to go to college ; and of little ago." Annie, the gentle invalid, who | The conductor hesitated. It needed fresh air, sunshine, and seemed only common humanity to good, nourishing food so much. let the old woman ride to her Oh dear, when would that long destination whether she paid her lane of their poverty have a turn- fare or not, for the streets were ing? And Uncle Abram could do ankle-deep in mud, it was nearly so much if he chose. He was her dark, and the rain fell in torrents. mother's uncle, and only surviving But then he had his orders that no relative, yet he had never given one should ride free, and if he was anything from his abundance to caught tripping he might lose his help them. Thinking thus, Myra place. He was not a hard-hearted had almost made up her mind to man by any means, and he felt make one more attempt to soften sorry for the poor old woman; but his heart, to ask him at least to he had a wife and five children send poor Tom to college, when dependent on him, and he could the car stopped to admit an old not put their living in jeopardy. woman, and Uncle Abram, as if Poor as his place was, he knew

there were dozens of men whol Mr. Deane had always been would be glad to have it.

poor; but his wife had belonged to “ I'm sorry, ma'am," he said a wealthy family of which Uncle slowly, “but you'll have to get Abram and herself were the only

survivors. When things had been " What!” cried the old woman, very bad indeed in the Deane house. looking much excited. “You would hold, poor, proud, faded Mrs. Deane not put me out on such an evening had sometimes asked help from her as this?"

rich uncle ; but had invariably been " I have my orders not to let any met with a cold refusal. Once Myra one ride free, ma'am, so—

had been sent to the old man, Mrs. But he was interrupted by Myra, Deane hoping that her pretty face who leaned forward, and, attracting and gentle manners would have a his attention, dropped three pennies softening influence on his stony in his hand.

heart. But the young girl had “Let me pay it," she said to the been as coldly treated as had her old woman with a friendly little mother on similar occasions. nod. “You must not go out in the "Tell your mother," said the old

man, “ that I advised her not to " Thank you, my dear," said the marry Henry Deane. She could old woman. “ Time was when my have married my partner if she had pocket was full of money. But wished to do so, and never known things have changed since then." what poverty was. But she chose

Nothing more was said until she her bed, and now she must lie on rose to leave the car, when she it, whether it be roses or thorns. asked Myra for her name and She will never get a penny from address.

me. Women never know what is “I must return you the three best for them, and when they pennies you paid for my fare." commit a folly they must abide

“ That is quite unnecessary,” by the consequences. My will is said Myra.

made-I made it twenty years ago But the old woman insisted, and -and the name of Deane doesn't so at last Myra gave her the appear in it. Go home, and digest business card she had in her porte- that. I told my niece when she monnaie, but thinking as she did married that she would never get a so that in all probability she would penny from me from that day forth, never see or hear of the shabby old and she never will.” woman again.

But in spite of these assurances There were seven children in the from Uncle Abram that she had Deane family, and Myra was the nothing to expect from him, Mrs. eldest. For two years she had Deane still cherished hopes of regiven music lessons, having been ceiving a part, at least, of his taught to play on the piano by an wealth at his death. Surely, she aunt, who had made her home with thought, his heart would soften them for the five years previous to toward her before he died, and to her death. How thankful Myra was whom else could he leave his that she had it in her power to money, if not to her, his only contribute toward the family in relative ? Apparently he had not come, for she did not see how they a friend in the world for whom could ever have managed without he cared an iota. There was no her small earnings ! But her pillow one, as far as she knew, for whom was often wet with bitter tears of he had ever expressed the slightest regret that she could not do more. regard, except that partner whom

he had wanted her to marry, and sinking down on a chair she burst he, poor old man, was long since into a storm of tears. Her heart dead.

had been full to bursting for days, It was a long winter, cold and and now a stranger's question had cruel-a winter full of storms of caused the breaking down of her snow and sleet. The prices of food self-control. and fuel were raised, and struggle The old woman said nothing as they did to economise, the until Myra had grown calm again, Deanes suffered for the com- and then she took the young girl's monest comforts of life. Myra hand between her two old withered grew almost desperate as she saw ones. her mother's frail form drooping “Perhaps it is a lover,” she said. more with every day; Tom's shoes “ And old as I am, I know how to in holes; and her father's overcoat pity you. Memory has not left worn threadbare.

me, and the incidents of the quarrel “Oh, mother! mother !” she which parted my lover and me fifty said one day, as she stood above years ago are as fresh in my little Annie's sick bed, and marked memory as if they had happened but how pale were the child's cheeks, yesterday. Tell me all about your how painfully thin and frail her troubles. I want to hear the story small hands, “Sometimes I feel from the beginning." as though I hated Uncle Abram! " It is not a lover,” said Myra I know it is wrong; but when we with a blush and a smile-what need help so much, isn't it cruel for time had she to think of lovers ? him to deny us even a penny of his “it is poverty which makes me so money ?”

wretched. We are very poor, and Just then, and before Mrs. Deane need so many things which there could speak, came a ring at the is no prospect of our ever getting.” door-bell. Myra answered it, not And then she told the old woman caring that her eyes were full of something of their daily struggles tears, and there on the steps stood and trials. the old woman she had met in the “My name is Mary Treat,” said car, the shabby little reticule in the old woman, when the young her hand as before.

girl had finished her story. "I am " I've been ill, or I'd have come perfectly respectable in spite of my sooner,” she said. “I didn't mean shabby clothes, and I have an into cheat you out of your three- come of eight pounds a month, pence. Not many girls would have most of which I spend for other given their last penny to an old people. Suppose you take me to woman like me. Ah, my dear, board? I will pay you thirty time was when I rode in my shillings a week, and I don't think carriage.”

you will find me a great eater or “Will you come in ? ” asked much trouble. Every little helps, Myra.

and thirty shillings can be made The old woman accepted the to do a good deal, if properly invitation at once. As she entered managed.” the hall, her sharp little eyes Myra thought so too, and ran to noticed the traces of tears on the consult her mother. The end of young girl's cheeks.

the conferenc

the conference was that Miss Treat " What have you been crying was installed in a small room next for ?" she asked, bluntly.

| Myra's, and made as comfortable as Myra attempted to answer, but tbe limited resources of the Deanes sobs choked her utterance, and I allowed.

What a blessing that old woman Mrs. Deane went to the funeral, proved in the household! Myra and wept sincere tears of grief as could not be thankful enough that she saw the old man's body lowered she had paid that threepenny fare to its last resting-place. Now that that stormy day, and so gained a he was dead, the affection she had friend who proved a friend indeed. once cherished for him returned in Miss Treat, or “Aunt Mary," as full force, and she remembered they soon learned to call her, made many happy days she had spent herself useful in every department under his roof before her marriage. of the household. She nursed. She did not go to the reading of the Annie, helped Tom with his studies, will, but her husband did, and when made shirts for Mr. Deane, darned he returned home she knew by the the hose of the whole family, and resigned, look on his careworn face "never wearied in well - doing.” that all was not as they had hoped. Kind, amiable, and thoroughly. “My poor Emma,” said Mr. unselfish, she was the angel of the Deane, putting his hand kindly on household, and beloved by every his wife's shoulder, “ we really exmember of it.

pected nothing, you know. It is The spring came, and summer no disappointment after all.” and autumn followed in quick “But did he leave us nothing succession, without bringing any —nothing?” cried Mrs. Deane. changes to the Deapes, or increas- “He left every penny of his ing their worldly wealth. But one money to an old sweetheart. I day in the beginning of winter did not catch the name, I felt so Tom came home with the news that stunned and saddened thinking of Uncle Abram was very ill, and no your grief, my dear. But the lawyer hope of his recovery was entertained. told me that this woman had jilted

"Oh, Tom!” cried his mother. bim years ago when he was young, “Suppose, only suppose his heart and made him what we knew him softens now when he is dying ! to be, a soured, disappointed man, You may go to college yet, my believing in and loving no one on poor boy!”

| the face of the earth." Tom's eyes lighted up with joy The children had all come in as and his face flushed.

| their father was speaking, and “Mother! I wonder if it is stood around him with sad faces. wrong to hope that he has willed “And Tom cannot go to college,” his money to us?” he asked. said Myra, with a sob.

"Wrong! Oh, Tom! I can “Yes," said a voice from the remember when I was my Uncle doorway, “ Tom can go to college," Abram's idol. But he never liked and Aunt Mary entered, her kind your father. Poverty, in his eyes, old face beaming with joy. “ And was almost a crime."

not only that, but not one of you The next day when Tom came shall ever want for anything again home from the law-office where he as long as I live, or after I am dead was employed as a clerk, his either, if I can help it. My dears, mother met him with anxious eyes strange as it may seem, I am the and pale face.

old sweetheart to whom your Uncle “He is dead, mother," said the Abram left his money, and what is young man, in answer to her eager mine is yours, you know.” question as to whether he had What need to tell the joy that "heard anything.” “He died last filled the household then! Pen night at nine o'olock, and is to be could not do justice to it. Bitter, buried on Wednesday at four.” grinding poverty, with its numerous ills, was exorcised for ever from the generous impulse had caused Myra Deane family, and they all had good to give her last penny to pay an reason to bless the day when a old woman's tramcar fare.

JESUS CHRIST AS A QUESTIONER.

BY THE REV. THOMAS HENSON.

“ THE peculiar import of His doctrine, as such, consists in its relation to Himself as a part of His self-revelation, an image of His unoriginated and inherent life ; and this alone suffices to defy all attempts at external explanation."-Neander. Out of that profound depth of “unoriginated and inherent life" many of His questions must have proceeded. “After all the pains which may be taken, however, to reach the full sense of the teaching of our Lord, it will remain a question whether we have seen down into the depth of His meaning. His words are ever like the deep sea-intensely clear, but immeasurably profound."-Dr. Angus. These sentences are finely descriptive of many of His questions, and also of our relation to them. All Cbrist's words, whether in the form of question or declaration, were designed to awaken thought and to stimulate its growth. The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed, which, though the least of all the seeds, was nevertheless, in its own inherent nature, to grow and expand into a great and fruitful tree ; and in like manner words, sentences, questions were seeds of truth dropping into inquiring, hungering, thirsting minds, which should continue to live, and grow, and bear fruit through the ages. Christ's object was to fix truth immovably in the heart and memory of willing disciples and indifferent or stupid hearers ; He knew that, once fixed there, it would grow when the new spiritual life came to the hearer's spirit, and beneath the light and dew of grace would bring forth fruit abundantly.

Christ found the Jews intensely carnal, just as His words yet find the children of men. One of His first aims, after arresting public attention by preaching the kingdom of heaven as already at hand, was to explain its principle and expound its laws. In doing this He sought to lift the mind and the heart to something higher than the body and the earth, even to the spiritual and the heavenly--to direct the thoughts of His hearers beyond the present to the eternal. Nothing militated more against this part of His work than the selfish tendencies of the people towards their bodies. Their thoughts, concentrated upon eating and drinking, wearing, and present enjoyment, must be elevated, or directed inwards to that which was more than the body. He reminds them of another Master than mammon, of another Object than the body, and of another Providence than their own anxious care. Every word of His discourse (Matt. vi. 24-34) is wonderful, tender, and stimulating; and yet such is human nature that