I was the only, or at any rate, the chief personage, in the family upon whom devolved the duty of paying visits and receiving visitors. My dear mother was an invalid, and was often confined to her chamber by sickness, so that she rarely left the precincts of her home; and even in what she called her "bright days," when she was comparatively free from pain, she was so distressed at the thought of seeing strangers, that in all these matters I was compelled to be her substitute. My younger sister was but a school-girl, and away from home when the Wakes first came to live at The Grange. And, as to my father and brothers, their business took them so much abroad, and gave them, besides, so many associates in their own calling, that they refused to have anything more to do with the Wakes than to give them an indifferent good-day greeting when they met. So it came to pass that, without any good-will of my own, I was drawn into contact with our new neighbours, from the time that they first of all settled down at The Grange.

They must have known that I did not like them; for though civil, as I have said, I was always very cool when in their company. Cool! I ought to have written cold: cold as an icicle. When our acquaintance began, they thought me shy, probably, and tried to put me at ease by quietness, and warm me with kindness. But of course they soon found that I was not shy, only contemptuous. They had endeavoured to interest me at first by talking about those things which most interested them, because their hearts were set upon them; telling me that they hoped we might work together in the various modes of Christian usefulness. They soon found out their mistake, however.

They must very soon have made the discovery; but they did not return dislike for hatred, contempt for contempt. That they were disappointed and grieved-for they had been told what excellent people we were at our farm, and what good neighbours we should prove, and what an acquisition to their circle the eldest daughter would bethat they were disappointed and grieved, therefore, on the discovery of their error, was natural enough; but they tried to conceal these feelings, and did their best, by increased kindness, to bring out what they would have called my better qualities, which, with that superabundant charity which believeth all things, they would believe I possessed.

And what a kind fatherly and motherly couple they were, if I had only permitted myself to acknowledge it! If they

were not real gentlefolks-which they made no pretensions to be they were real Christians, which was much better. Not genteelly educated, perhaps, either of them; but sufficiently well taught and trained to conduct themselves with propriety, even in polished society, I am sure; and to appreciate in others what, it may be, they were conscious of not possessing themselves. They had a good, because a select, library, and a well used one moreover; for they were persons of reading and intelligence. Once, and more than once, they begged me, if I pleased, to make free use of their books- -an offer which, I am now sorry to say, I scornfully declined.

But if the elder Wakes were not highly educated, they had taken care that their children should be. They had two daughters, a little, not much, younger than myself; and they ah well! I will only say that my jealousy of them, and my silly, ridiculous jealousy of their acquirements (though they made neither display nor boast of them) was another ingredient in my fixed dislike to our new neighbours. They were lovely girls; almost all who knew them admired and praised them; and this was too Imuch for me. I did not like to hear them praised; it was an insult to me. Truly, the wise man was right when he said that " Envy is the rottenness of the bones."

There was a son, also; but of him I saw little for several years after the advent of our new neighbours; for he was then at college, and only a part of his vacations were spent at The Grange; and after his college life was over, he resided in a distant part of the country.

When the Wakes had been living at The Grange about three years, a sorrow fell upon us at the farm which banished all other thoughts from my mind-at least for a time. My sister, who only a few weeks before had returned for the last time from school, was suddenly taken ill. We thought but little of this at first; for we said that Lucy had only caught a bad cold, and would soon be better with good nursing. But darling Lucy did not get better with all the nursing we gave her. Instead of this she became rapidly so much worse, that we were alarmed, and sent for our doctor. 'Why did you not send for me before?" said he, almost sternly, when he had beckoned me aside, after he had seen my sister. I told him what I have just written down, that we thought Lucy had only a bad cold.

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"Only a cold! only a cold!" he repeated sharply. "My dear young lady, don't you know that a cold, or what you call a cold, may be the foundation and precursor ofhere he paused, as though he thought he had said too much.

Oh, sir! is my sister so very ill then ?" I exclaimed, bursting into sobs and tears.

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There, there! I did not mean to frighten you," he replied soothingly. "Your sister will do very well, I dare say; but she must have a great deal of care."

"What is the matter with her, sir?" I asked. But he would not tell me. It was too early yet to say precisely what form the disease would take, he said. He would see her again in the evening, and meanwhile he would send some medicine. Just as he was leaving, however, he turned and said, "By the way, you may as well take up the carpets in your sister's room, and remove all drapery, especially woollens. And sprinkle the room now and then withwith a fluid I will send with the medicine. Only a precaution, and perhaps unnecessary; but it will purify the air, and can do no harm."

You may be sure that I was very much alarmed by the doctor's manner and instructions; and I was the more in trouble because my dear mother was at that time so severely afflicted, and so helpless as to be unable to leave her own room. As far as I could, however, I roused myself to activity, and did all that the doctor had ordered.

Lucy was very, very ill. Her disease was an infectious fever; and though a nurse was hired (a poor ignorant, superstitious and obstinate creature, but the best that could be procured), all the responsibility of nursing rested upon me; for neither of our two female servants would venture near the door of the sick chamber.

Worse than this came; for about three days after the doctor's first visit, one of the servants sickened with the fever had frightened herself into it, the doctor said; and the other insisted upon leaving her place. There was I, then an inexperienced young woman, left with only an almost helpless assistant, to nurse three patients and get through, as I best could, with all the household duties of a large farm-house; for though other helpers were sought for, they could not be found: no one would come near us.

To be sure, my father and brothers did all they could to ease me of my burden of anxious care and trouble; but

they had their business to attend to; and certainly, nursing and house-work was not their forte.

One day while in the midst of this great trouble, and when I was ready to sink with despair-so much so that I had thrown myself despairingly on a couch in our sittingroom, and had buried my face in the pillow, weeping piteously—a gentle hand was laid on my arm; and on starting up and turning my face, I saw Mrs. Wake bending over me with a look of such sympathy and compassion, that if my heart had not been very proud and obdurate, I must have been at once melted. I found afterwards that she had not impertinently intruded, as I supposed, but that one of my brothers, who happened to be about home, had opened the door to the visitor, and rather abruptly shown her into the room where I was, without any further announcement. "This is a sad sorrow, dear Miss Foster," she said, before I had time to think of what I should say.

I rose from the couch hastily, and made some reply, I do not remember what, only that it was an ungracious one. "I did not know of your trouble till this morning, my dear," said my visitor; "and I came at once to offer my services. I hope," she added, with a smile, "that you will not refuse them."

"Your services, Mrs. Wake?"

"I hear that you are left almost alone with your three patients on your hands, and that your poor neighbours are alarmed at the sickness."

It was true, and I said so; adding that I did not before know how much selfishness there was in the world.

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Well, my dear, it is natural enough, perhaps, though it is a pity. But as I was saying, or meant to say, I have been accustomed to nursing the sick in my time, and if you will accept my help, it will be a great pleasure to me to do what I can for you. I would have sent one of my servants, but it would not have been quite right to expose her to any danger that may exist, even if either of them would have been willing. Besides, I think I know more about nursing than some others. So I hope, my dear, you will not say

no."

What could I say? I could say nothing, except that the lady was very kind; but that I could not think of such a thing. What claim had I and mine to such condescension on her part? I asked.

"We will say nothing about condescension, my dear,"

returned Mrs. Wake; "because there really is no room for such a word. And as to claim-but I see you will grant my request," she added; and before I had time to say any more, she had divested herself of her bonnet and shawl. In an hour's time she had quietly installed herself in my sister's chamber.

1. OLD JULIAN.

A TRUE STORY.*

SUNDAY dawned, and Julian attended again, but as it turned out, for the last time, at early mass. As he sat at breakfast he thought of his promise to Launay, and began to consider if he could not find some excuse for breaking it; but he had pledged his word, and the word of Julian Sauvé had never been broken. Launay arrived and found his friend, as he had indeed expected to find him, anxious and irresolute; but he reminded him of his promise.

"Yes," said Julian; "and it shall be kept, for it is sacred; but mind you must never ask me to go with you again."

Together the two friends entered the little room which had been fitted up as a chapel. The attendance was small that the entrance of a stranger could not pass unnoticed and as he took his place by Launay's side and looked round upon a scene so new to him, all were struck with the mild and pleasant expression of his countenance. Those who have attended a French Protestant service are aware that it commences with an invocation in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, upon which all rise and stand while the ten commandments are read; the second of these instantly arrested Julian's attention, and as the minister proceeded with the words, "Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image, nor the likeness of anything that is in heaven above or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth; thou shalt not bow down to them nor worship them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God," a deep shade passed over his face, for his conscience was already at work. If that be God's word, thought he, then am I an idolater! But the prayers followed, and he joined fervently in them, feeling, as he afterwards confessed, more deeply than he had ever felt before, the real power of prayer. The hymns too delighted him by their

*Concluded from the last number.