'She's a starving herself, I do believe,' she said to herself. 'I thought they paid her handsome, too!'

The governess sipped her tea and still thought.

6

'There's nothing I can sell,' she whispered; nobody would have my old clothes.' She laughed. And as to my boots, ah! I declare I don't think they'll last over the 16th! What a crack! that accounts for my wet stocking. I shall have to wear my house-boots and goloshes; and that reminds me, Rosamond, poor child! must be wanting some. I wish I had a music pupil, that would buy our boots; and suppose those people don't return on the 15th, really I don't know what I shall do. But I must correct those French exercises.' And then she turned patiently to her work.

Presently the good-natured Mrs. Meek tapped: she had brought a cup of coffee; they were just taking some, and she thought it would be refreshing.

'You are always thoughtful, Mrs. Meek,' said the lodger, gratefully.

Then she went to bed, and of course dreamed of finding a bag of gold. The first waking thought was that there was something uncomfortable and distressing to endure; the second, that it was about money, or rather the lack of it.

Äh, well! I have known deeper troubles than money ones; I

think I can survive this.'

Still it tried her faith.

Mrs. Meek kept no servant, she was far too poor; so, in order to get breakfast in time for the governess, she had to rise at six. Miss Dale could hear her creeping about, quietly arranging this and dusting that, and rustling over the fire-making: when all was nearly ready, her soft tap summoned her lodger.

'Don't lie awake wondering what time it is, Miss, I'll be sure to call you just at the right moment,' she had said, and kept her word; and a daily governess, or a clerk perhaps, or a hard-worked factory hand, alone could tell what a relief it is to rely on some one in such a case, and not lose an hour or two of comfortable sleep, fearing to lie too long. Then opening her Bible to read a verse or two whilst dressing, a verse that often soothed and refreshed her like the memory of sweet music during the day, Miss Dale tried to forget, for a moment, her care for 'the morrow.'

'I should be thankful,' she whispered to herself. 'How kind that quiet woman is! I might have met, oh! such different treatment.'

Then she stole downstairs, not to wake the husband; who, poor man, had been 'breaking out' a little lately, and required much treatment and nursing.

'You'll have plenty of time to take it comfortable, and the tea will warm you; it's fine autumn weather, though sharp,' said Mrs. Meck to her lodger.

It was one of those keen, bright September mornings, that tell upon the leaves and crisp them, and remind you pleasantly that there is such a thing as winter and sharp frost.

A group of bright faces at the study window greeted the governess, who so seldom rebuked and was so ready to be pleased with their efforts; and soon she was explaining for the hundredth time the

Saxon Heptarchy to Josephine, and counting energetically to Dora's rather jerky rendering of the 'Surprise symphony. All through the lessons, like the tapping of a distant hammer, came the same refrain: 'What can I do? what had I better do?'

On the way to the station a poor woman entreated earnestly for but one penny-she had sore need, her little child hungry, and she dared hardly beg the police were so strict. Like many another unreasoning woman, the governess did not like the poor laws, and had a greater pang when she truly said, 'Indeed, I have not a penny to give you, or I would,' than her own distress would have given her.

'I believe you, ma'am,' said the woman, meekly, as she curtseyed and went away.

'How strange it is! Can the angels know how willing I am to give, that so many ask of me? But then they would know the whole-how little I have.'

Yet the numbers of circulars and petitions to rebuild churches, to provide for orphans, to prop up hospitals for various maladies, to open mission-rooms, to help the destitute of all kinds; why do these demands come in avalanches on those who have only their prayers and their good-will to give?

The door was promptly answered by the landlady. When she reached her room-so very sorry to trouble her; but there was a man a-waiting for a little money, and her husband was out; and could Miss be so kind as to either lend or advance a few shillings?' 'Oh! I am so vexed, I have no change!'

Mrs. Meek went out with a subdued sigh, and was to be heard in the distance for some time talking with the man, who said some folk gave more trouble a-getting the money and a-wearing out your boots going after it than their custom was worth. 'And I might have saved the poor thing this! But here is something cheerful, at any rate,' she added, taking down from the glass a letter in Rosamond's handwriting.

DEAREST SISTER,-Will you send me by return of post 2s.? The girls are to have a treat, and the fare will be no more divided amongst us, and I thought you would like me to go. By return, dear, please send the money, or it will be too late,' &c.

Then she sat down, quite disheartened at last. 'My poor little Rosamond! Oh, my poor little Rosamond!'

Then Mrs. Meek came with the tea, and remarking how tired she looked, cut the most delicate slices of bread and butter, and said how she wished she hadn't troubled her when she was weary: but he not being at home, &c.

Miss Dale knew well that the selfish man had drank it, but that was truly neither here nor there. Left alone she tried to read, but the words 'Pecuniary difficulties' danced between her eyes and the book. So she decided to put her trunk to rights. First she took out the tray, folded some ribbons, arranged some collars and her company dress, fondling a bit of old lace of her grandmother's with the comfortable feeling that it really was good. Then came letters, small boxes, and something chinked; that suggested money. There was a singular old casket made of straw by the French prisoners of war in England a century ago nearly, and coloured fancifully. Her grand

mother had told her it had been let down through the window into the courtyard, with other trifles equally ingenious-cherry-stones carved, and walnut work-boxes; and how they had also let down a little bag, into which people put the money for the articles, and paid liberally too in their compassion. In this casket there was an antique purse like chain-armour, only of value for its curiosity. Some little coins within chinked again; they were queer and old-fashioned, Spanish and Moorish-most likely got in the wars by her grandfather; but one looked so like a sovereign, she quite started-it is a guinea of George II. Suddenly the bright colour came into her face, she scrambled the things into her box, locked it, and put on her shawl and bonnet hurriedly.

uneasy!' and she She sped along. As frightened as

'Mrs. Meek, I must go out again; don't be bustled off too quickly to hear remonstrances. After a brisk walk she reached a jeweller's shop. though she were committing a crime, she offered the guinea and begged to know its worth. The man turned from his occupation to hold it up to the light, then he counted out twenty-one shillings and pushed them to her.

of

'I am sorry I cannot give you more; if it had been of the date

But she waited for no more; she bowed and departed. Her 'little pinch' was over, and her gratitude intense. 'He does watch over us and all our little concerns! Oh! He does, I feel sure.' So sang her heart while she bought three shillings' worth of stamps and wrote a pencilled note to Rosamond to enjoy her trip, and then getting into an omnibus was whirled through the darkening streets nearly to her home.

A loud and grumbling voice greeted her entrance. 'He shouldn't go away for nobody, not for Queen Victoria!' whom he seemed to think it probable would come and personally request it; and he'd send the bailiffs, and he'd have the law;' and evidently he had had drink.

'He's here again, Miss; I regret you should be annoyed; and I've promised

at!'

'Oh! aye, promised! that's what you are uncommon clever

'How much is it, Mrs. Meek?'

'Only ten shillings, Miss.'

'Please give Mrs. Meek a receipt, sir,' put in Miss Dale, gently, but with authority. Here is the money, which I owe Mrs. Meek, and then you will kindly go; for we are both very tired.'

He sprawled a receipt; and after hunting in the coal-scuttle and other likely places for his hat, which was under his arm all the while, he departed.

the

Surely the Lord must have sent you to my relief, my dear,' said poor troubled woman, sobbing.

Nay, don't cry now,' the governess answered, cheerfully; and don't let you and I despair ever. I'm very sure He is round about our path always.' A. A. D. W.

And reaching down,

Lead to the crown
Thy child!

'HE GAVE HIMSELF.'

N Marseilles, a good many years ago, there was a plague, and thousands went down under that plague; and one day the College of Physicians resolved that one victim of the plague should be dissected that the physicians might know how to treat the disease. It was known that whoever undertook that dissection would lose his own life, but Dr. Guyon said, 'I will do the work.' He made his will, and prepared for death. In the dissectingroom he wrote down the result of his observation, and in twelve hours he died.

'Oh,' you say, 'what wonderful self-sacrifice that was!' But the Lord Jesus Christ looked out on this plague-stricken world. He saw that its sins must be dissected. He comes down, and He enters the hospital of the world's suffering. He makes His will, giving all things to His dear people. Of our plague He dies -the well for the sick, the pure for the impure, the good for the bad, the God for the man. Oh, the suffering! oh, the sacrifice! oh, the rescue!

MBROSIUS, or, as he is commonly called, Ambrose, was one of those men whose lives seem to be marked out for them at first without any will of their own, and even against their inclination.

Descended from a noble Roman family, he was born about the year 340. His father, who was prefect of Gaul, dying whilst Ambrose was a boy, his mother took him to Rome, where he was educated as an advocate under the most celebrated lawyers of the day. He began his legal career at Milan, and gained such reputation that he was appointed prefect of Liguria and Æmilia, the seat of which government was at Milan. Now at this time there was no schism between the Greek and Latin Churches: there was but one Catholic Church. The struggle was between the Catholics and the Arian heretics. And on the death of Auxentius, Bishop of Milan, a fierce conflict ensued about the choice of a successor. As prefect, and probably indifferent to both parties, Ambrose tried to promote peace in an eloquent speech to the people; when a child in the crowd cried out, Ambrosius for bishop!' The multitude taking this for a Divine inspiration, forgot their sectarian differences, and both Catholics and Arians at once elected him with acclamation. Far from being gratified by so high a honour, Ambrose was filled with dismay, and strove by every means in his power to avoid his appointment. He secretly stole from the city by night, but lost his way, and morning found him again at the gates of Milan. So all his devices proving useless, and receiving a command from the Emperor Valentinian I. to accept the bishopric, he submitted to his destiny. He had not even been baptized, but eight days after he had received that sacrament he was consecrated Bishop of Milan.

Though he had shown such reluctance to accept the sacred office to which he was called, he had no sooner entered on it than he gave himself up heart and soul to the discharge of its duties; and bestowing all his property on the poor, and turning his attention to the affairs of the Church, he wrote many theological works. He had not only to resist the Arians, but the pagans also: for Symmachus and the heathen senators at Rome sent a petition to the emperor that the altar of Victory might be restored; and it was only rejected through the determined opposition of Ambrose. But the Arians gave him most trouble, for the Empress Justina was of that persuasion, and had brought up the young Valentinian II. in her own way of thinking; and at length she demanded one of the basilicas at Milan to be given up to her sect. This the Bishop resolutely refused; and as he was supported by the people, on her attempting to obtain possession of the church by force, a tumult took place. The court then fearing an insurrection appealed to Ambrose to quiet the disturbance, but he replied, 'It was not I who stirred up the people, and God alone can still them.' Fearing a surprise, the people kept watch night and day in the church and round the Bishop's palace, singing the hymns that Ambrose had taught them. The Bishop was then invited to the palace to discuss their points of difference with an Arian bishop; but Ambrose refused, referring all such matters to a council of the