large and old-fashioned, and possessed little architectural beauty. It was surrounded by fine old trees of more than a century's growth, and shady paths among these led to a pretty garden, in the rear of which was a fine orchard. The place received its name from a willowshaded brook, which ran through part of the grounds, and formed at one point the dividing line between it and an adjacent farm. The interior of the house was well and comfortably furnished; the rooms were bright and pleasant, and in many of them were hung fine old pictures, which I looked at with exceeding interest.

My stay at Willow Brook was prolonged to three weeks. During that time I improved in bodily and mental health. Though the waters of the spring at which I had drank with eager lips flowed now no more for me, I was in a measure resigned and trustful that a supply

of " living water" would never be denied.

I do not know whether Mrs. Seytoun suspected that a malady of the heart had caused the body's illness; it is more than probable that she did, but she never by look or tone betrayed her intuition of a foregone suffering.

Gentle, lovely Christian lady! It was good for me to be with her; I was blest during my sojourn at her home. She never suffered me to lack amusement or employment, yet she watched that I was in no degree overtaxed or wearied. Her manner to me was always that of the tenderest mother. When she came to my couch at night, before she retired to her own; when she bestowed upon me caressing kisses in the morning, for she was seldom absent from my bedside when I awoke-I was frequently touched almost to tears, for I knew that she never saw me move about or lie down to rest, without a thought of her dead Margaret in her heart.

We often visited together the graves of her children. One, a boy, had died in infancy; the others, Margaret and Amy, had not been six months laid beneath the flowers that were often watered by her tears. When seated together beside these mounds she often spoke of her dear ones with the tenderest love and grief. One day she had overheard little Willie Forrester say to his cousin, "Grandmamma never laughs, does she, Frank?"

She referred to this, when near sunset we sat in the churchyard together.

"Ah!" she said, "we carry from the graves of our beloved dead coldness and sorrow to be about us amid the homes of the living."

And then she told me a sad tale. I learned that, indirectly, the failure of the Talbot Bank had caused the death of both her daughters. The trial and subsequent flight of Mr. Forrester-the knowledge of the odium attached to her husband's character-the disgrace which she felt clung to herself and her children-how might Margaret bear up under it? And Amy felt it as well.

Oh, my dear friend," I said, when the sorrowful tale was finished, "you have suffered! How shall you ever endure to look upon Mr. Forrester again? How may he hope for forgiveness at your hands ? "

"Bessie," she returned, "Christ washed the feet of Judas Iscariot. What a lesson for us!"

Let me give you, Marie, as a short episode in this history of my governess life, the mournful story of Margaret and Amy Seytoun,

in order that you may understand with what an unspeakable tenderness my heart went out toward their stricken and lonely mother, to whom I would fain have been a daughter indeed, in her dead Margaret's stead.

*

"My God, oh Jehovah ! I have trusted in Thee; Oh Jesus, my Saviour! now rescue Thou me !

Like fetters of iron, deep griefs me environ; Thy smile let me

see!

With sighing and crying, at Thy feet lowly lying,

I adore Thee, implore Thee, now rescue Thou me !"
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.

GENTLEMAN stood upon the doorstep of a handsome house in Randolph Square, in the city of M. After ascertaining the number, he rang the bell and inquired of the servant answering his summons, "Is Mr. Forrester within ?"

"He is, sir."

"Give him this card, and say that if he is not engaged, I would like to see him a few minutes on business."