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doing something in the vestry, while Mr. Thompson the vicar was there, he told him the whole affair, and painted it in still darker colours.

"You greatly astonish me, Crabs," exclaimed Mr. Thompson, for George was quite a favourite with him; "really I think you must be mistaken. Are you sure- do you know

this to be a fact?"

"Well, sir, it's about everywhere, and it 'ud hardly be that if there wasn't something in it. I first heard it myself at the shop; but I never mentioned it, except to my brother-in-law, Benjamin Backbite, till I heard it talked on the other day down at the forge."

"I am sorry, very sorry to hear it," said the vicar; "sorry if it's false, as I think it must be, and more so if it's true. I shall make inquiries about this, Crabs. I am afraid there's something wrong here. I don't like these stories about a young man who has always borne so excellent a character: depend upon it I will have this cleared up." ·

"Well, sir," replied Crabs, rather sullenly, "I've nothing to say against the young man myself. You've only heard from me what I've heard, sir, and we can't help hearing;" but the vicar was gone, for he was not without suspicion of Crabs' gossiping propensities, and thought it best at present to say no more to him about it. He had got he thought sufficient clue for his inquiry, and he determined to make it at once.

So that afternoon he went up to George Willis's house. "He is not at home, sir," said his wife to Mr. Thompson's inquiry; "but do come in, sir, and sit down, he won't be long, he's only gone up to the White Horse for a few minutes."

Mr. Thompson looked grave as he took the offered seat. Had he come to find out that the village talk was true? George at the White Horse this time of day? but he said nothing.

"He'll be so glad to see you, sir," said Mrs. Willis, as in obedience to the vicar's request she went on with her ironing. "He so often talks about your sermons, sir, and reads over the notes he takes. He's got quite a book full, and he says it puts him in mind like; and we'd be both glad to see you, sir, any time you'll call. George was saying only the other day he hadn't seen you a good bit; but he knows you've a deal to do and many to see, and he says he can always see you and hear you too on a Sunday."

"Thank you, Mrs. Willis, thank you," replied Mr. Thompson; but he did not feel disposed to say much, so he asked how George was getting on with his business.

"Well, sir," said Mrs. Willis, "we've reason to be very thankful, though it's a slack time just now, and George would have been at home but for this job as just came in. There was something wrong with the chimney, and old Mr. Drover the landlord won't have nobody but George if he can help it, because he says he won't have no drinking men to do his work, though he is a publican."

It was curious. The vicar was puzzled. There was nothing to indicate that there was the least ground for suspicion. They could not be combining to deceive him? No, she would not have mentioned his going to the White Horse surely if that had been the case: and yet might it not be intended as a blind? He could not think it. But his speculations were cut short by the entrance of George Willis himself.

66

Very glad to see you, sir," he said, respectfully and almost affectionately, " and I hope I haven't kept you waiting long."

66

'No, Willis, thank you; but I wanted to speak to you about a rather particular matter, and thought it best to make sure of seeing you."

His wife took the hint, wondering somewhat, for she thought Mr. Thompson more grave and quiet than usual, and went up stairs leaving him and George together.

(To be concluded in our next.)

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"WHAT can be the matter with Mr. Watson? as though he had some great weight on his spirits. could not help noticing him on Sunday morning. Green gave us one of his best sermons; but there he sat, never once looking up all the time, and evidently thinking of something else. Then, too, at the prayer meeting, when Mr. Green asked him to pray, he shook his head and declined. What can it all mean?"

This was said by Mr. Potter to his wife one evening after their family had retired to rest.

There was not in all the town of

a more upright,

honourable tradesman than Mr. Watson; and he was a sincere Christian. He was a pleasant, genial companion; disposed perhaps, sometimes, to err on the side of undue exhilaration and excitement, but apt also on the other to be as unduly depressed. It may be added that his turn of mind was somewhat anxious, and that he was a little too prone to look on the dark side of things. He had scarcely succeeded in business as he had once hoped to do, although he had got on tolerably well. From his youth up he had been, for many years, an active, useful Christian; but of late he had been scarcely as zealous and earnest as in former days. He was getting older, he said, and it was time that younger men should come forward. Besides, his family required his attention, and he himself needed rest on the Sundays. So he had gradually dropped nearly all works of Christian usefulness. Still he was greatly respected both in the church to which he belonged, and by all classes of the community.

Mr. Potter was one of his earliest friends. They had been schoolfellows, both in the day-school and in the Sunday-school; and they had been a good deal associated both in religious matters and in the promotion of the general interests of the town. Of late they had not been thrown together quite so much as formerly, partly because they were both increasingly occupied with business, but much more because of Mr. Watson's retirement from works of religious usefulness. They were, however, warmly attached, and they had in various ways rendered one another essential service. Their families, too, were on intimate terms.

"I can scarcely tell," replied Mrs. Potter, "but he does seem greatly depressed. You know I have been there this evening, and I was sorry to see him moving about the house very moodily. He had scarcely a word to say to any one; and the least trifle seemed to irritate him. Mrs. Watson made no remark to me about him, but I saw she was troubled and anxious."

"I must try," said Mr. Potter, "to find an opportunity of talking to him. I have known him like this before; and whilst he made himself wretched, he did no good to anybody. Perhaps I may be able, by God's blessing, to help him back into the sunshine."

It so happened that Mr. Potter, who was an upholsterer in extensive business, had been making considerable enlargements in his premises, and wanted some printing

executed. At any other time he would most likely have walked down to his friend's shop or sent one of his clerks with his order; but instead of taking either of those methods, he sent a message to ask him to step up in the evening after the shops were closed.

Mr. Watson went up at the time appointed. Their business was speedily disposed of, and they glided insensibly into general conversation. At first Mr. Watson was tolerably cheerful; but he soon lapsed into depression, and at length, quite involuntarily, he heaved a deep sigh.

“That came from a long way down, Edward," said Mr. Potter. "Let me take the liberty of an old friend and ask what is the matter? I have noticed that you have had something on your mind. I don't want to pry into your affairs; but you know me sufficiently by this time to be quite sure that I shall be glad to render you any help in my power. Are you quite well?"

He was in good health, he replied. It was true he had not slept very regularly for a few weeks past; but he took no account of that.

66 Then," said Mr. Potter," it must be trouble. Now what is it?"

In reply, Mr. Watson said that it was not one thing only, but a combination of anxieties which had depressed him. He had been discouraged about business. Trade had been a good deal affected by the state of the money market, and he thought he felt it even more than his neighbours. Two or three failures had occurred lately, by which he had lost considerably. He had heard, too, that one of his former apprentices, who had been absent from the town two or three years, and who had influential connexions, was about to return for the purpose of setting up business. Then, again, he had been a little disappointed in his family. His eldest son, who had chosen the profession of an engineer, had not as yet succeeded in finding such an opening as he wished, and he was just then without employment; whilst the next, who assisted him in his own business, was thoughtless, and fond of gayer company than was desirable. Then the younger ones were rising up, and would need to be started in life, and he had reason to be very anxious about his wife's health.

All this was not told quite as briefly as we have narrated it, but was elicited in the course of a somewhat lengthened conversation. Sundry particulars were added which

showed Mr. Potter that at all events his friend had some reason for solicitude.

"Well, now," said Mr. Potter, "all these things coming together are no doubt very trying; but, so far as I see, matters are a long way from being hopeless. Supposing, however, that things were even worse than they are, do you think giving way to depression would do any good? We had an excellent sermon from Mr. Parsons the last time he preached. I have forgotten the text, and, I am sorry to say, nearly all the sermon too; but one thing I remember he said twice over, very impressively; Depression is always idle.' Now, let me ask, do you work any better for giving way to depression? Does not it tend to make you go about using only half your energies? and that's certainly the way to make matters worse.

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"I dare say you are right," replied Mr. Watson, “but one can scarcely help it."

"We'll talk about helping it after," said Mr. Potter ; "but we now ask another question. What do you think is the influence of your gloom on other people? on your children, for instance, and your servants? They see men who are not religious, bright and cheerful; whilst you, who profess to have a religion that makes you happy, are sad and downcast. Don't you think they are very likely to say, If that be all his religion does for him, it is not much worth, and the less we have to do with it the better?'"

Mr. Watson listened in silence, but made no reply.

"I notice, too," continued Mr. Potter," that depression and irritability are so closely connected that a man is seldom greatly depressed without becoming irritable too; and that tells even more against religion than mere gloominess. I remember that one of my fellow-apprentices was so prejudiced by our master's frequent displays of ill-temper, that he never would believe there was any reality either in his religion or anybody else's."

"I have scarcely allowed myself to think about it," said Mr. Watson, sorrowfully; " but I am afraid I have done much injury in both ways; although I do hope my family give me credit for sincerity. But what can I do?"

"First of all, then," replied Mr. Potter, "I think we should lay it down as a settled thing, that both for our own sakes and others, it is our duty to be cheerful and happy. You know we are actually commanded to be glad ;

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