When

said, was the best practical illustration of a real faith. we had thanked God for our supper, we prayed together; after which we read the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. When my husband had finished it, he said, 'Surely, if God's chief favorites have been martyrs, is not that a sufficient proof that this world is not a place of happiness, nor earthly prosperity the reward of virtue? Shall we, after reading this chapter, complain of our petty trials? Shall we not rather be thankful that our affliction is so light?'

"Next day, Mr. Simpson walked out in search of some employment, by which he might be supported. He got a recommendation to Mr. Thomas, an opulent farmer and factor, who had large concerns, and wanted a skilful person to assist him in keeping his accounts. This we thought a fortunate circumstance; for we found that the salary would serve to procure us at least all the necessaries of life. The farmer was so pleased with Mr. Simpson's quickness, regularity, and good sense, that he offered us, of his own accord, a little neat cottage of his own, which then happened to be vacant, and told us we should live rent-free, and promised to be a friend to us." "All does seem for the best now, indeed," interrupted Mrs. Betty. "We shall see," said Mrs. Simpson, and

thus went on :

"I now became very easy and very happy, and was cheerfully employed in putting our few things in order, and making every thing look to the best advantage. My husband, who wrote all the day for his employer, in the evenings assisted me in doing up our little garden. This was a source of much pleasure to us; we both loved a garden, and we were not only contented, but cheerful. Our employer had been absent some weeks on his annual journey. He came home on a Saturday night, and the next morning sent for Mr. Simpson to come and settle his accounts, which were got behindhand by his long absence. We were just going to church, and Mr. Simpson sent back word, that he would call and speak to him on his way home. A second message followed, ordering him to come to the farmer's directly. We agreed that we would walk round that way, and that my husband should call, and excuse his attendance.

"The farmer, more ignorant and worse educated than his ploughmen, with all that pride and haughtiness which the possession of wealth, without knowledge or religion, is apt to give, rudely asked my husband what he meant, by sending him word that he could not come to him till the next day, and insisted that he should stay and settle the accounts then.

'Sir,' said my husband, in a very respectful manner, 'I am on my road to church, and am afraid I shall be too late.' Are you so?' said the farmer. Do you know who sent for you? You may, however, go to church, if you will, so you make haste back; and, d'ye hear, you may leave your accounts with me, as I conclude you have brought them with you; I will look them over by the time you return, and then you and I can do all I want to have done to-day, in about a couple of hours; and I will give you home some letters to copy for me in the evening.' 'Sir,' answered my husband, 'I dare not obey you; it is Sunday.' 'And so you refuse to settle my accounts only because it is Sunday?' 'Sir,' replied Mr. Simpson, 'if you would give me a handful of silver and gold, I dare not break the commandment of my God.' 'Well,' said the farmer, but this is not breaking the commandment; I don't order you to drive my cattle, or to work in my garden, or to do any thing which you might fancy would be a bad example.' 'Sir,' replied my husband, the example indeed goes a great way, but it is not the first object. The deed is wrong in itself.' Well, but I shall not keep you from church; and when you have been there, there is no harm in doing a little business, or taking a little pleasure, the rest of the day.' 'Sir,' answered my husband, the commandment does not say, Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath morning, but the Sabbath day.' 'Get out of my house, you puritanical rascal, and out of my cottage too,' said the farmer; for if you refuse to do my work, I am not bound to keep my engagement with you; as you will not obey me as a master, I shall not pay you as a servant.' 'Sir,' said Mr. Simpson, I would gladly obey you, but I have a Master in heaven, whom I dare not disobey.' 'Then let him find employment for you,' said the enraged farmer; for I fancy

you will get but poor employment on earth with these scrupulous notions; and so send home my papers directly, and pack off out of the parish.' Out of your cottage,' said my husband, I certainly will; but as to the parish, I hope I may remain in that, if I can find employment.' 'I will make it too hot to hold you,' replied the farmer; so you had better troop off, bag and baggage; for I am overseer, and as you are sickly, it is my duty not to let any vagabonds stay in the parish who are likely to become chargeable.'

"By the time my husband returned home,-for he found it too late to go to church,—I had got our little dinner ready; it was a better one than we had for a long while been accustomed to see, and I was unusually cheerful at this improvement in our circumstances. I saw his eyes full of tears;

and O! with what pain did he bring himself to tell me that it was the last dinner we must ever eat in that house! I took his hand with a smile, and only said, 'The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.''Notwithstanding this sudden stroke of injustice,' said my husband, this is still a happy country. Our employer, it is true, may turn us out at a moment's notice, because the cottage is his own, but he has no further power over us; he cannot confine or punish us. His riches, it is true, give him power to insult, but not to oppress us. The same laws to which the affluent resort, protect us also. And as to our being driven out from a cottage, how many persons of the highest rank have lately been driven out from their palaces and castles!* Persons, too, born in a station which we never enjoyed, and used to all the indulgences of that rank and wealth we never knew, are at this moment wandering over the face of the earth, without a house and without bread; exiles and beggars; while we, blessed be God, are in our own native land; we have still our liberty, our limbs, the protection of just and equal laws, our churches, our Bibles, and our Sabbaths.'

"This happy state of my husband's mind hushed my sorrows, and I never once murmured; nay, I sat down to dinner with a degree of cheerfulness, endeavoring to cast all our care on Him that careth for us.' We had begged to stay till the next morning, as Sunday was not the day on which we liked to remove; but we were ordered not to sleep another night in that house; so, as we had little to carry, we marched off in the evening to the poor lodging we had before occupied. The thought that my husband had cheerfully renounced his little all for conscience' sake, gave an unspeakable serenity to my mind; and I felt thankful, that, though cast down, we were not forsaken; nay, I felt a lively gratitude to God, that, while I doubted not he would accept this little sacrifice, as it was heartily made for his sake, he had graciously forborne to call us to greater trials."

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"And so you were turned adrift once more? Well, ma'am, saving your presence, I hope you won't be such a fool as to say all was for the best now." Yes, Betty, He who does all things well, now made his kind providence more manifest than ever. That very night, while we were sweetly sleeping in our poor lodging, the pretty cottage out of which we were so unkindly driven, was burnt to the ground by a

*By the French revolution. This most edifying tale was printed when the nobles and clergy of that country were either in dungeons waiting for the scaf fold, or in banishment subsisting on the charity of strangers.-ED.

flash of lightning, which caught the thatch, and so completely consumed the whole little building, that, had it not been for that merciful Providence who thus overruled the cruelty of the farmer for the preservation of our lives, we must have been burned to ashes with the house. It was the Lord's doing, and it was marvellous in our eyes.' 'O that men would therefore praise the Lord for his goodness, and for all the wonders that he doeth for the children of men! "I will not tell you all the trials and afflictions which befell us afterwards. I would also spare my heart the sad story of my husband's death." Well, that was another blessing too, I suppose," said Betty. "O, it was the severest trial ever sent me!" replied Mrs. Simpson, a few tears quietly stealing down her face. "I almost sunk under it. Nothing but the abundant grace of God could have carried me through such a visitation and yet I now feel it to be the greatest mercy I ever experienced; he was my idol; no trouble ever came near my heart while he was with me. I got more credit than I deserved for my patience under trials, which were easily borne, while he who shared and lightened them was spared to me. I had indeed prayed and struggled to be weaned from this world, but still my affection for him tied me down to earth with a strong cord; and though I did earnestly try to keep my eyes fixed on the eternal world, yet I viewed it with too feeble a faith; I viewed it at too great a distance. I found it difficult to realize it. I had deceived myself. I had fancied that I bore my troubles so well from the pure love of God; but I have since found that my love for my husband had too great a share in reconciling me to every difficulty which I underwent for him. I lost him; the charm was broken; the cord which tied me down to earth was cut; this world had nothing left to engage me; Heaven had now no rival in my heart. Though my love of God had always been sincere, yet. I found there wanted this blow to make it perfect. But though all that had made life pleasant to me was gone, I did not sink as those who have no hope. I prayed that I might still, in this trying conflict, be enabled to adorn the doctrine of God my Savior.

"After many more hardships, I was at length so happy as to get an asylum in this alms-house. Here my cares are at an end, but not my duties.” "Now you are wrong again," interrupted Mrs. Betty; "your duty is now to take care of yourself; for I am sure you have nothing to spare." "There you are mistaken again," said Mrs. Simpson. "People are so apt to fancy that money is all in all, that all the other gifts of Providence are overlooked as things of no value. I have

here a great deal of leisure; a good part of this I devote to the wants of those who are more distressed than myself. I work a little for the old, and I instruct the young. My eyes are good; this enables me to read the Bible either to those whose sight is decayed, or who were never taught to read. I have tolerable health; so that I am able occasionally to sit up with the sick; in the intervals of nursing, I can pray with them. In my younger days, I thought it not much to sit up late for my pleasure; shall I now think much of sitting up now and then to watch by a dying bed? My Savior waked and watched for me in the garden and on the mount; and shall I do nothing for his suffering members? It is only by keeping his sufferings in view, that we can truly practise charity to others, or exercise self-denial to ourselves."

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'Well," said Mrs. Betty, "I think if I had lived in such genteel life as you have done, I could never be reconciled to an alms-house; and I am afraid I should never forgive any of those who were the cause of sending me there, particularly that farmer Thomas, who turned you out of doors."

Betty," said Mrs. Simpson, "I not only forgive him heartily, but I remember him in my prayers, as one of those instruments with which it has pleased God to work for my good. O! never put off forgiveness to a dying bed! When people come to die, we often see how the conscience is troubled with sins of which before they hardly felt the existence. How ready are they to make restitution of ill-gotten gain! and this, perhaps, for two reasons; from a feeling conviction that it can be of no use to them where they are going, as well as from a near view of their own responsibility. We also hear, from the most hardened, of death-bed forgiveness of enemies. Even malefactors at Tyburn forgive. But why must we wait for a dying bed, to do what ought to be done now? Believe me, that scene will be so full of terror and amazement to the soul, that we had not need load it with unnecessary business."

Just as Mrs. Simpson was saying these words, a letter was brought her from the minister of the parish where the farmer lived, by whom Mr. Simpson had been turned out of his cottage. The letter was as follows:

"MADAM,

"I write to tell you that your old oppressor, Mr. Thomas, is dead. I attended him in his last moments. O, may my latter end never be like his! I shall not soon forget his despair at the approach of death. His riches, which had been his sole joy, now doubled his sorrows; for he was going where