"Who bade you come here?" he asked, after

a pause.

"No one bade me. My father only said

"Your father!" interrupted he, passionately. "I thought so. But he might have spared himself the trouble. Your father will get nothing out of me, I can tell him."

"He does not want anything," was the quick reply that sprang to my lips, "nor I either;" but then glancing at my mother's countenance, I added, "except your forgiveness, uncle.”

"Go away," exclaimed he, "with your white canting face. You are the very image of

him."

"Thank you for the compliment, uncle."

My mother laid her hand upon my mouth. "Go," said she, gently; "I will join you in a few moments." I went out as she bade me, and left them together. Before I had walked very far my mother overtook me.

"I feared how it would be," observed she. "But you have done what was right, John."

"Mother," said I, after a pause, "do you think me like my father?"

"Yes, a little, my son. May you resemble him more and more every day you live."

I then asked her whether she thought Uncle Jabez was a Christian. This time there was no reply; and, looking up into her face, I saw that she was weeping.

"Never mind, mother," said I; "we can pray for him, you know."

"Yes," answered she, " that is all we can do. God is very good."

My head was now throbbing violently with the heat and excitement, and I was very glad when we reached home, and my mother made me lie down on the bed, and keep quiet for the remainder of the day.

CHAPTER III.

SABBATH DAYS.

SABBATH days have been beautifully compared to wells in the desert, where the traveller pauses awhile to rest and refresh himself, and then goes on his way rejoicing. I have often wondered what we should have done without them in this wilderness world. They are indeed seasons of rest and refreshment, from which the Christian traveller goes on his way rejoicing in God his Saviour.

Sunday was always a happy time with us children. There was the pleasant walk to public worship, the service itself, and the short and simple discourse, so simple that a child · might comprehend it, and so short that even a child was not wearied; so full of love-the exceeding love of Christ-that even a little child was rendered happy. Then came dinner, a more plentiful dinner than we ever got at other times, because it was the only day that

my father dined at home. There was no afternoon service, so we generally took a quiet walk in the green fields, during which my father was sure to find "sermons in stones, and good in everything." I can remember many of those sermons to this day, the text perhaps being only a little flower, or a withered leaf, or, it may be, the very grass upon which we trod. I was always sorry when these walks came to an end.

After this we had our tea, and our sabbath books and pictures, with permission to sit up an hour later than usual to look at and hear about them. Sometimes my father and William went again to evening worship: my mother could not leave little Charley at that time. Sometimes my father remained at home, and heard us repeat our hymns and texts, and read to us out of the Bible, which we all loved and reverenced as the word of God. William and I had learned several chapters. It was a good thing, my father used to tell us, to get our memories well stored with Scripture knowledge in youth. It was laying up a treasure for our old age, he said, if God spared us to grow old. "But remember, boys,"

added he, "it must not be a mere head know

ledge. You must learn it by heart. It is wonderful, in after life, how these texts and passages arise up in moments of temptation; how God's commands are remembered in seasons of doubt and perplexity, and his sweet promises sent, as it were, to cheer us in times of affliction and discouragement. I speak from my own experience; and it is the experience, I believe, of most Christians."

Such were some of the scenes and occupations which served to make the sabbath, what it always ought to be to the young, a bright and happy day, and well worth remembering.

My dear mother had much to occupy her during the week; and there was frequently a weary look on her face, and a quick, hurried tone of voice, which was never to be seen or heard on the sabbath. That was indeed a day of rest, and peace, and tranquillity. I recollect a silk dress which she sometimes wore. I think it was her only silk dress. It was somewhat faded, but very pretty; and very well, I have heard my father tell her, she looked in it-quite as well, in his eyes, as the first day she ever wore it. At which she would laugh and colour in a way that must havė