answered, imploringly. "For if you really say so, and mean it, I shall be tempted to go and throw the money away, where nobody will ever find it."

"Ah, well, it isn't worth while to do that, my dear: but I can't make it out. Here you are so nice and trim, and the youngsters too; and the home-something like a home; and you, with money in store, and not owing a farthing? Why, my girl, you must have found a treasure somewhere!"

"So I have, John," exclaimed Sarah, eagerly and earnestly; it is the very word, dear John; and here is the very thing itself-the blessed treasure," she added, as she reached her Bible from a shelf and laid it before her husband. 66 'See, John; we have had this treasure by us ever since we were married, and all the while we were in such trouble so often, and we never once thought of going to it."

Adams looked more puzzled than before. "What has this to do with your having that money in your bag, Sarah?" he asked.

Sarah turned the leaves of the New Testament, and soon found what she looked for. "Read that, John," she said, and pointed to the passage. And he read—

"Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? what shall we drink? or wherewithal shall we be clothed? (for after all these things do the Gentiles seek ;) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you."*

"There, John! And it is all true; it is really." And poor Sarah, who could bear no more without showing emotion, burst into tears. "It is all true, John. I found this treasure after you were gone, and was so miserable that I did not know what to do with myself; and-and-God has been very good to me. And oh, John! if you would only try how good God can be to all who trust in him!"

I shall not write any more of the conversation that passed between the reunited man and wife. And I need not carry out their after history in full. All I have to say is that John Adams, humbled by the ordeal through which he had passed, sought employment the next day and found it; that he worked steadily on, and made the discovery of *Matt. vi. 31-33.

his home being so comfortable, that he was not tempted to go to the Red Lion to spend his earnings; that Sarah went on in her self-denying and industrious course, and thus helped to maintain her family; that, eventually, the secret prayers and consistent conduct of the wife, led the husband to seek the same blessings she enjoyed; and that, although not exempt from trials and sorrows, John Adams and his wife, in succeeding years, found by experience how true the promise is, "Seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you."

MAKING THE BEST OF IT.

PART II.

THINGS went on much as usual for about a twelvemonth, when one morning, on going to work, the men were startled by being told that the master had died suddenly. He had left no will, and his property had to be divided amongst some relatives who were not on very good terms with one another. All, therefore, that could be done for the present was to finish what work was in hand, and to close the shop. The men, therefore, were thrown out of employment. It was most likely, however, that the business would be disposed of, and then there was every reason to believe that they would resume their work.

Kendall was depressed and fretful. He lounged about the house, doing nothing; and now and then he strolled out, but he returned from his strolls in no more cheerful temper. He had been a fool, he said, to go back to Bolton. But, somehow, things were always going wrong with them.

His wife pointed out, very sensibly, that they could not have foreseeen what had happened; that such an event might have occurred to any master; and that they were neither on the parish nor running into debt. It was not very pleasant to encroach on their savings; but they had no alternative, and they might be thankful they had them to fly to.

All this was undeniable: still Kendall's discontent remained.

"Just walk down to Spoor's," said Mrs. Kendall, "and see if he has heard anything."

She knew that if anybody could cheer her husband up it was Spoor.

"I think I will," said Kendall. So, rising, he put on his hat and went out.

As he drew near to his friend's house, he heard his voice singing cheerfully, and with as much vigour as a man at his work could put into his song

"Then let our songs abound,

And every tear be dry;

:

We're marching through Immanuel's ground
To fairer worlds on high."

He knocked, opened the door, and walked in. There was Spoor, with his sleeves rolled up and hammer in hand, hard at work; whilst in a corner was one of the younger children, rendering what he thought very valuable help.

Spoor's cheerfulness was infectious, and Kendall felt that it in some degree brightened his own heart.

"Busy, seemingly," said Kendall.

"Oh, ay," replied Spoor. "It's a bad job to be out of work, but one may as well make the best of it. Better work for nothing than be idle for nothing. Missis has long been wanting me to make her a little chest of drawers and a table, and to mend up some broken things; but we've been so busy for a long while that I never seemed as though I could find time. I dare say she thinks it not such a bad thing that I'm out of work a bit. It won't pay to work long for her," glancing, as he said this, very significantly at his wife; "but when this is done, may be I shall find a job that will pay better."

Kendall sat and talked awhile; but he felt that Spoor's cheerful activity at once quickened and reproved him, and, rising, he went home, and to his wife's great surprise set vigorously to work on something which she had long wanted to have done, but longed in vain. The house was a hundredfold happier.

Ere long the shop was reopened, and Spoor and Kendall both found employment again. Robinson, who had saved a little money, after a time gave up work, and Spoor became the foreman in his stead.

Time rolled on. Spoor had persuaded Kendall to go with him regularly to the place of worship which he attended, and he had reason to think that he felt deeply sometimes; but as yet there was no decided change. Something else seemed needful, and by-and-by it came.

Kendall, never very strong, caught, one winter, a severe cold; and at the same time, aggravated by that, an old complaint returned, which rendered needful long rest and very careful treatment. From what has been seen of him, no one will be surprised to hear that he was, especially at first, sadly downcast. Indeed, in his depression, he sometimes thought he would never be able to work any more, and he indulged some hard and rebellious thoughts against God. "Now, my man, said Spoor, as once, when he had looked in upon him, Kendall spoke very gloomily, and turned his face away, that his friend might not see his quivering lip and the tear that stood in the corner of his eye-"now, my man, this kind of thing will never do. Keep up your heart, and

66

"Yes, I know," said the poor man, with a comic, rueful sort of smile, "and make the best of it. Soon said, John; but it's rather a dark look out, I can tell you, and I can't see much hope of anything brighter."

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Don't talk that way, Peter," replied his friend; "think of your mercies. How much worse things might have been! You have every reason to hope that, with care, you will come round again, and be able to do your work as well as ever; and it shall lack no effort of mine to keep your bench for you. Then you've your club money, and you've something in the savings bank; and if all comes to all, and you need further help, well, we'll try to help you.'

"It's very good of you," replied the afflicted man, “and I dare say I do sometimes get flatter than I need."

"No doubt," replied Spoor. "But, Peter, there's a better thing now to be done than to look at the brightest side, so far as health and the things of this life are concerned. Don't you think God is dealing with you in this trial to bring you to trust and love him. You have heard a great deal about him, and I know you have felt what you have heard; but have you believed with your whole heart in the Lord Jesus Christ, and found his salvation?"

"I hardly think I have, John," he replied.

"Then take my word for it, Peter, you'll make the very best of this trouble of yours, if you see God's hand in it, and hear God's voice in it, calling you to repent of all your sins, and to believe in Jesus. I am certain, if you do that, you will say ever after that the best thing that ever happened to you was that you were laid aside in this way from

your work, and shut up in your sick chamber to read your Bible and pray."

Many other conversations followed on the subject. Spoor asked their minister to go and see Kendall, and lent him books likely to interest him, and especially to point out to him clearly the way of life. The issue of all was, that through God's Spirit and blessing Kendall left his sick chamber an altered man-in one word, a sincere believer in Christ.

The influence of his new-found faith became apparent in his altered views of life. He will never be the hearty, buoyant man that Spoor is. That is scarcely in his nature. But since he learned to call God his Father, and to trust him, and to believe that all things happen to him as the Lord wills, he finds that he can pass by many things very lightly which once would have troubled him greatly. He is altogether a happier man, and all about him are happier

too.

One thing he has learned about his friend Spoor. He thought that his constant cheerfulness was altogether natural; he now sees that, though in part it is so, it springs far more from his faith in God.

THE DEATH OF DR. ARNOLD.

THE REV. T. Arnold, D.D., was head-master of Rugby school, and regius-professor of history in the university of Oxford. His mind was of a most powerful cast; his love for true religion, amidst some peculiarities, of the highest order; his opposition, privately and publicly, to all opinions bearing the name of tractarian, unremitting and uncompromising. Placed as the instructor of a public school, which furnished many members annually to the English universities, Dr. Arnold's post was one of great influence, and he employed that influence with the most happy results for the spiritual good of his individual pupils, and for the promotion of spiritual religion in society at large. He had scarcely entered on his professorship at Oxford, when death summoned him to higher service for God.

In Dr. Arnold's family there was an hereditary predisposition to angina pectoris. His father had died suddenly of spasm of the heart; and the event left a deep impression on Dr. Arnold's mind. "Shall I tell you, my little boy," he said to one of his younger children, who was bursting forth