And can drowning creatures be rescued, if some are not found willing to venture in their behalf into the treacherous and dangerous element? And you, who thus hesitate to follow us, will you profess to be ignorant of the fact, that there are such beings as fallen women, wandering in the wilds of sin, and lost in the tangled thickets of vice? No, you will no more assert this, than the majority among you will dare maintain that they modestly turn away their eyes from the exciting reports of the Divorce Court Trials, and their ears from the coarse scandals of the Clubs. These things then being so, we engage you to read on fearlessly, assuring you that you have commented on and are cognizant of worse doings than are touched on in these our pages, pages written with the faint hope of arousing a feeling of Christian charity for those who are struggling in the deep waters of sin.

In a small lodging, some distance removed

from Mrs. Vaughan's London home, lay an ailing girl, who, with the charity that 'hopeth all things,' the former often visited. Rhoda Mason was one among the many sinful ones sought out by Helen in their need; for between the 'good' world and the bad she was as a connecting link, and some, sick, neglected, and remorseful, called her blessed! None knew better than she how best to work for them, and in what fashion to hold the light to such poor women as (steering from the right track) had struck upon sunken rocks and hidden quicksands, and were there perishing miserably. There were those looking at them from safe places who might, perchance, have saved some, but they were afraid. A cry had gone forth to man the life-boat, and the cry had been responded to; but alas! the breakers were heavy, and the fierce wind set so strong against them, that few were saved from the wreck of souls. And for those that were rescued, what remained? They were cast upon an inhospitable shore,

poor, and crushed, and naked; so that the lives that were saved were little better than a burthen to their possessors.

'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support them after.'

And for those weak ones whose feet are set in slippery places, few are found able to give help, or are willing to speak a word in season to them that are weary.

Rhoda Mason was the daughter of a poor clergyman. She had been educated carefully, as the eldest of her father's daughters; he having intended, that after (in her turn) bestowing the advantages of learning and accomplishments on her younger sisters, she should go forth into the world as the kind instructor of other men's children.

He could not afford an expensive school, that ill-paid village pastor! He could not pay the high price which is supposed to comprise the exclusion of the ill sheep that taint the flock;' but he did the little that he could, and he did that little for the best. And what

is the result? Far away, in a wicked city, his eldest-born, the little Rhoda, whose beauty had been his pride, lies dying in a sorry lodging, the rent of which is paid by the wages of iniquity. She is panting, coughing, and breathless, with fevered hands hanging helplessly outside the coverlid; but with a warm and zealous friend leaning over and soothing her. Rhoda's alarm was excessive; she had been told that Death was hovering near her, and the poor little thing was scarcely more ready to go than had she been a condemned criminal, left for execution in a Newgate cell. The face that was raised with a look of agony to Helen, was beautiful, even in the great disfigurement of sickness; but its expression was almost foolish, and the perspiration streamed from it in her agony of terror.

Helen strove to lay her head upon the pillow, but the girl, feeling perhaps that she could fight Death more advantageously in a less recumbent posture, resisted obstinately; and with her long hair flowing over her neck

and shoulders, sat up in her bed, rocking herself wildly to and fro.

'Rhoda, you will kill yourself,' said Mrs. Vaughan, endeavouring to throw some sternness into her voice and manner; 'quiet is prescribed for you, and quiet you must have. Lie down immediately, or I must leave you.'

This threat took effect, and the girl, after an effort to control her agitation, laid her head back with a heavy sigh. There was a bouquet of choice flowers on the table near the bed, and their perfume was overpowering; yet still the patient would not allow them to be removed, and murmured when Mrs. Vaughan placed them at a greater distance,

'I love the flowers so, Mrs. Vaughan,' said the poor weak creature; 'they seem like life.'

'But their breath is poison to you, dear Rhoda, lovely as they are. Try to be still awhile; you are wearing yourself out, and undoing all the good that has been done for