An Angel unawares.

T was dinner-time in the cottage of Peter Day, Lancashire cotton-spinner, with no more money than he knew what to do with, as he looked at his

wife and six children. It was deep winter-time, and slack work-time, as well as dinner-time; and there was little wonder that Peter should have been surprised to see a seventh child present, looking very cold, and very hungry. In better days it would have been matter of no consequence; but to-day every mouthful was of consequence; and he was a little irritated-only a little; for he was a good and true man, if ever there was one.

"Have we not enough of our own to keep, Rachel, without your adding another one to the number?"

"Don't be angry, Peter," said his wife, gently; "you would have done the same, I know, if you had seen how the poor little thing looked when she stood on the step. Why she came here I can't tell; but having come, I had not the heart to send her away without a bit of something to eat. She is welcome to my crust, I am sure; look at her!"

Peter did look at the little mite of a girl who stood trembling at some distance from him. She was worn by hunger and neglect; she was barefooted and most shabbily dressed; tears, however, started in her eyes when Peter began to look steadily at her; and she put up her little hands piteously.

said, kindly; and after some 66 Are you cold ?"

"Come here, little one," he hesitation the child advanced. "Very, sir," she said, with a shiver.

66

Well, come this side, and get a nice warm at the blaze; and I think you big boys and girls might have found a pair of stockings, or boots, or something or other to cover these poor naked little feet."

The kind hint was immediately acted upon; and in a few minutes the child had on an old pair of stockings and boots two or three times too large for her.

"Now, what is your name, and where do you come from? But before you tell me, come and have something to eat, for you look as though you wanted it."

Peter noticed with

The invitation was most welcome. great delight that two or three of the children did not want to be helped so plentifully as usual, and that they contrived, when they thought they were not noticed, to put little pieces on the child's plate. He would rather have gone without the best dinner in the world than have missed seeing this; and he inwardly gave thanks to God that the little outcast by her desolate appearance had elicited such feelings. She was very hungry, and the savoury smell of the nice stew, a quarter of an hour ago seemed irresistible; but now she could scarcely eat a morsel; she was all in a tremble, and more than once seemed inclined to cry when her kind little companions put tempting bits on her plate.

66 Now," said Peter, "don't you think for a minute that you shan't have your dinner, because you can't eat all you ought just now. Bring it round here, and put it by the fire; and when you have had another nice warm, and I am gone to work, you shall eat it all up, you know."

The child's tears fell plenteously now, but she did as she was bid, and stood with her two hands open before the fire to get the warmth.

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Now, tell me what is your name, child ?"

"Susie, sir."

"Susie what?"

"Only Susie, sir; I haven't another name."

"What is your father's name ?"

"I don't know: I never saw him."

"Well, your mother's name?" said Peter, making another effort.

"I never saw mother,"

"Well, where did you come from ?" asked Peter, quite at a loss to continue the cross-examination any further.

"Oh!" said the child, opening her large eyes, which were black and shining, "a long, long way off; but I slept

a great deal; and last night I was taken out of a cart and left by myself."

Peter gave a sturdy kick to a log on the fire, which sent up a shower of sparks into the chimney, then said, "Rachel, lass, it's time I went to work;" and said no more.

It was late when he returned, and it was a bitter evening. His face was pinched with cold, and he was glad to get as near as he could to the fire. The children were all in bed, and his wife was diligently knitting.

"Where is the child, Rachel ?”

"Oh! the poor little thing we gave a bit of dinner to, you mean? She was very thankful for it; but you wouldn't have had me keep her here all night, would you?"

"You don't mean to tell me, lass, that you have turned a poor little thing like that into a night of weather like this!" said Peter, earnestly.

Well, good man, what was I to do ?”

"Do!" cried her husband, loudly; "why, house her somewhere or other in remembrance of Him who was once a lost little child Himself."

"Husband, don't get angry; little Susie is snugly asleep upstairs, but I was afraid to tell you so at first."

She had only to look at the feeling of delight which quite illuminated her husband's face to be convinced that she had no reason to fear that he would disapprove of what she had done. Somehow or other, bitter as the weather was outside that night, the fire on Peter Day's hearth never burned brighter, and his homely supper never tasted sweeter. Somehow or other, next morning, there was porridge and milk enough and to spare for a seventh child, although the times were hard. Somehow or other a second night came on, and still she had not gone; and Peter was yet more pleased.

It would take far more space than we have at our disposal to tell how it came to pass, that in the course of a few days it became a settled thing that Susie was not to go away at all. She herself expected every morning to hear that it was time for her to go. Peter always knew when she was

thinking and fearing this by the paleness of her face, and the tremble which used to shake her slight frame from head to foot. His invariable remedy was to say, Susie, come and have a nice warm;" and then immediately she was herself again. The child tenderly won upon his rugged, but truly gentle nature, day and by day; and at last, without any formal talk or resolution upon the subject, it was settled that the humble cottage to which Divine Providence had mercifully directed her steps on that wintry morning should be her home for the present at all events. By degrees she lost the timorousness which told only too cruelly of long hard usage, and became bright and cheerful. As to education, she had none; she did not know a letter. She had never been taught a prayer; and the first time she was taken to a place of worship she listened to the service like one listening to an unknown language. But it was with intense delight, and something even approaching to awe, that she regarded what she called the "learning" of Peter's children. She would listen to them while getting their lessons; and whenever the reading lesson came, especially if it happened to be a story, her eyes would glisten with pleasure. This led the children to say to her one day, "Susie, wouldn't you like to learn to read ?"

"Oh! so much, so much!"

"Then we will try and teach you;" and they were as good as their word. Peter with great satisfaction saw them sitting up a little later than usual in order that they might teach Susie. She was an apt scholar; and the delight they had when they found her able to read words of two syllables more than repaid them for the trouble they had taken. In doing good they were getting good; in teaching another they knew more thoroughly for themselves what they endeavoured to teach. The little friendless girl who had been taken out of the streets, by her very ignorance, was a daily incentive to them to be more diligent than ever at school. Peter, and Rachel too, God-fearing people as they were, when they began to talk to Susie about spiritual