MISSIONARY ALMANACK.

L. Qr. 2nd .... 5.26 a.m. N. M. 9th.... 4.31 a.m.

March. F.Q.15.831p.m. | F.M.23,6.5pm.

L. Q. 31st.... 8.21 p.m. THE OMNIPOTENCE OF GOD.

1 TI am the Almighty God, Gen. 17. 1. [reigneth, Rev. 19. 6. 2 F-Völkner killed by N. Zealanders, 1865. The Lord God omnipotent 3 S Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? Job 11. 7. [Job 37. 23. 4 S 4th in Lent. Touching the Almighty, we cannot find Him out,

M. Ge. 42. Mark 6. 14-30. E. Ge. 43 or 45. Rom. 13.

5 MI know that Thou canst do everything, Job 42. 2. 6 T Thou hast a mighty arm, Ps. 89. 13.

7W New C.M. House op., 1862. Miss. Children's Home beg., 1850. Be Thou their arm every morning, Is. 33. 2.] [Ps. 71. 16. 8T1st Miss. sailed for Africa, 1804. In the strength of the Lord God, 9 FIs the Lord's hand waxed short? Num. 11. 23. [Thee, Ps. 17.7. 10 S Thon savest by Thy right hand them that put their trust in [strength, Is. 27. 5. 11 S 5th in Lent. Bp. Sargent consec., 1877. Let him take hold of My

M. Ex. 3. Mark 10. 1-32. E. Ex. 5, or 6. 1-14. 1 Cor. 4. 1-18.

12 M They were all amazed at the mighty power of God, Lu. 9. 43. 13 T So will we sing and praise Thy power, Ps. 21. 13. 14 W Fox and Noble sailed for India, 1841. Under the shadow of the [Almighty, Ps. 91. 1. 15 T Bp. Burdon consec., 1874. Delight in the Almighty, Job 22. 26. 16 F Dahomian attack on Abeokuta, 1864. The Almighty shall be thy 17 S None can stay His hand, Dan. 4. 35. [defence, Job 22. 25. [make His mighty power to be known, Ps. 106. 8. 6th in Lent. He saved them for His name's sake, that He might

18 S

22 T

23 F

M. Ex. 9. Matt. 26. E. Ex. 10 or 11. Lu. 19. 28, or 20. 9-21. 19 M Able to subdue all things unto Himself, Phil. 3. 21. 20 T Bp. Moule's 1st Confirmation, 1881. Able to keep you from fall21 W Able to save to the uttermost, Heb. 7. 25. [ing, Jude 24. Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee, Mk. 14. 36. Good Friday. Who is this?...Mighty to save, Is. 63. 1.

26 M His name shall be called, The mighty God, Is. 9. 6.

27 T Thou hast given Him power over all flesh, Jo. 17. 2.

28 W J. Thomas d., 1870. Will also raise up us by His own power, 29 T He is strong in power: not one faileth, Is. 40. 26. [1 Co. 6. 14. 30 F I am God Almighty: be fruitful, Gen. 35. 11.

31 8 1st bapt. Fuh-Chow, 1861. Ye shall be My sons and daughters, Isaith the Lord Almighty, 2 Co. 6. 18

MORE JERSEY BREEZES.

III. Our Father's House.

"Thou wouldest needs be gone, because thou sore longedst after thy father's house."-Gen, xxxi. 30.

S we reverently ponder the familiar histories of those who lived and loved and died so long ago, we come, now and again, to a tender touch of nature, which sends a responsive thrill through the heart, linking us all to the one grand Brotherhood. Here is such a little touch. A lonely exile, despite riches and prosperity, Jacob "sore longed after his father's house." These words may fall under many an eye that has wept for the same cause, only without the possibility of Jacob's glad return. Let us think over these touching words, in the hope of being enabled to draw from them comfort and strength. We may consider them under three aspects-Past, Present, and Future.

1. As we reflect on that sore longing for home we naturally follow with warm sympathy the hundreds of devoted men and women who have given up every social delight in order to spread the glad tidings from pole to pole. It is easy to speak, or to write, for the Mission cause, when our lot lies evidently near hearth and home; but what must it be to leave, for uncertainty, all that the human soul holds most dear, and to give the latest word and the parting kiss to those whose hearts are well-nigh breaking! Ah, let us think very often of those lives of truest self-sacrifice. Let us believe that through our effectual fervent prayer many a bright angel may be sent forth on messages of

love, which shall distil like balm on the weary spirits of those who are toiling all the night, far from the "father's house." Are you feeling very sorrowful and homeless? Look up, desponding one. The heavens are blue everywhere. The "little while" leads to the long repose. Perhaps letters have just reached your distant corner from the beloved spot-the past comes over you with fresh pathos, and for a while you give way to regret. Did not our Saviour, in His dreary exile, long sorely for His Father's House? Is there not a yearning ring in the prayer: "O Father, glorify Thou Me with the glory which I had with Thee before the world was." He can enter with you into this cloud of grief; it will pass away, and you will feel strong again.

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2. To very many who may read this, the "father's house" is still the happy home. There is a vague certainty that it cannot remain so, but this only gives zest to present enjoyment. How we long for that which is fixed, stable, and enduring; how we try to banish from our minds the truth that all here must pass away! We forget how seemingly slight a dispensation can, in a twinkling, oblige us to arise and depart. Are we awake to the responsibilities of membership in an earthly home? Are those within its shelter the better for our presence? Are we true home-missionaries, curbing our tempers, restraining our tongues, and giving light to all that are in the house? The mission-field is the wide world—every nook and corner of it. Wherever there are souls to be saved we may be doing something to cheer and help, something to keep back self and to advance the glory of God. And when our turn comes to go forth, with heavy heart, from the dear family roof-tree, we shall solace ourselves with the reflection that there is a City which hath foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God. No partings there.

And

3. This leads us to the future of the "sore longing." from indulgence in this we can derive only purest joy. If we have striven to do our duty in the earthly" father's house,' we can look forward confidently to the "many mansions" of which Jesus has assured us. When Dives asks that a heavenly messenger may be sent to his "father's house" with warning entreaties to his five brethren, the request breathes uttermost despair. He had not improved his sojourn among the beloved familiarities of home, and it was now too late to repair evil to kith and kin. Let us take warning and keep up animated hope for the blessings which await all those who humbly labour for the glory of God. The cherished recollection of them will lighten every trial and sweeten every duty. "The Father's House"; how refreshing it sounds, so full of fond memories, but not less full of joyous anticipations. We cannot tell what it will be like, but we know that, once safe within its portals, we shall be "satisfied." And what do we want more? How many way-worn wanderers are "sore longing" for the rest which remaineth. Though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry. A. M. V.

HALF AS MUCH AGAIN."

AKE up the motto! Use your best endeavour,
Though it may cost you thought, and toil, and pain;
Give this year for the cause of your dear Mas er,
For Jesus' sake, the "Half as Much Again"!
How shall you do it? Some must give more money;
Others, more effort still of hand and brain;
Ask God to tell you how you best may gather,
For Jesus' sake, this "Half as Much Again”!
Freely you have received, and freely given;
Efforts for God are never made in vain;
Blessing, you shall be blessed. Give, then, right gladly,
For Jesus' sake, your " Half as Much Again."

M.

R

NINE SANTÂL CHRISTIANS.

EADERS of the GLEANER can scarcely have forgotten the Santal Mission. Interesting accounts of it appeared in our numbers for January, 1875, and April, 1877. In 1879 there was a series of graphic letters from Santâlia, by the Rev. W. T. Storrs. And pictures, showing some of the leading converts, appeared in January and May, 1880. The Santals are a numerous people in the hilly districts of Bengal: not Hindus, but one of the races that inhabited India three thousand years ago, before the Hindus came in. The C.M.S. Mission among them has only been carried on about twenty years; but there are now more than 2,000 baptized Santal Christians, besides catechumens.

The Rev. F. T. Cole, who has been labouring among them for the past eleven years, has kindly furnished some notes descriptive of the accompanying group of portraits. He adds that the engraving gives a very poor idea of Santâl faces :

The Rev. William Sido is the Native Pastor of Chuchi, a Santâl, and one of the first converts from the boarding-school at Taljhari, established by the Rev. E. L. Puxley. He was ordained deacon three years ago, after having worked for many years as a zealous catechist and preacher among his people.

Baijun is one of the Christian Santal leaders, and a man universally respected. He was baptized about fifteen years ago, and has had much to endure for the Master's sake. God has blessed him greatly in his house and substance, and Baijun is not ashamed to own it. He is the life of the Christians in his village. He and his family are generally the first to appear at the daily morning and evening services, and he does his utmost to keep the others in his village regular in their attendance on the means of grace. He was mainly the cause of the new church in his village being built. When some of the lukewarm Christians said they were not able to afford time and money necessary to build the village church, he said that if they would not help he would do it at his own expense. This shamed the few whose hearts were not so earnestly in the work, and they all joined in the work and finished it. It is a thatched building with mud walls, and is built entirely by the people and at their own expense. May God make him a still brighter light and example to his Santâl countrymen !

REV. W. SIDO. SARAH. BAIJNATH.

BAIJUN.

JOBA.

women.

She is a Bengali by birth, and is much esteemed and beloved. She is a most consistent woman, truly adorning the doctrine of God her Saviour in all things.

Jay Babu is a Native doctor. He has also been engaged as a catechist in the Santal Mission from its commencement. He is a Bengali, but by long intercourse with the Santals has acquired a thorough knowledge of their language. He preaches daily to the patients who attend the dispensary, and this often has to be done in three or four languages.

Kolian is the wife of Baijnath. She was trained in Mrs. Storrs' girls' school for a teacher, and was for some time employed as such. She is much beloved, and is a friend in need to her countrywomen, amongst whom she walks as a bright and shining light.

REV. BHIM HANSDA. KOLIAN.

REV. SHAM BESRA.

The Rev. Bhim Hansda was also one of Mr. Puxley's scholars. He and two other lads were the first to come out of heathenism and join the Church of Christ crucified from among the Santâls. Since his baptism upwards of three thousand have followed his example. Truly a little one has become a thousand. The three trembling lads became the nucleus of the large number now gathered under the standard of the Cross. He is now the Native Pastor of Taljhari, and is striving earnestly to build up and strengthen the Christians, and to bring many others into the fold of Christ. He is a thorough Christian, and is much loved and respected. Sarah is the wife of Jay Babu, the central figure in the group. She is quite the right hand of the missionary's wife in all her work among the

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very careless," and of another that they are" bright and lively, and give him great joy."

THE TALE OF A CONVERT.

BY A. L. O. E.

[This deeply interesting narrative has been kindly sent for the GLEANER by Miss C. M. Tucker (A. L. O. E."), of the Church of England Zenana Society, Batala, Punjab.]

ROM what strange paths are the Lord's servants sometimes called to minister before the King; what singular training do they receive for His service! A native evangelist has lately been paying a visit to Batala, and has related to me passages of his own history. These seemed to me so interesting that I put down pencil-notes as soon as he quitted the room. I am committing no breach of confidence in relating the story of him

whose name I shall change to Azim. I am certain that it I asked for his permission to do so it would not be refused; but on his own account I think it better not to request that permission.

Azim was brought up in easy circumstances, his family being able to provide him not only with comforts, but with what might be called luxuries. He was educated as a strict Mahomedan, and at the price of seven years' labour learned the whole of the Quran by heart, a feat which may be compared to a boy's learning the whole of the New Testament. The clever lad was placed at a school of which the head-master was a Native Christian. A certain periodical was taken in here by some of the boys. To the disgust of the young Mahomedan he saw in this paper one day something against him whom he then considered the Prophet.of God. Azim showed his strong zeal by buying up every copy of the periodical which was brought to the place, and tearing it to pieces! The master, in anger, struck the enthusiast a violent blow with a cane, certainly a measure likely to increase Azim's bigotry and hatred of the Christian religion. The lad left that school and went to another, taking with him a fierce dislike of Christians, which led him to annoy and worry them, and excite others against them.

The master of the second school happened to be likewise a Christian, but one of a milder spirit than the first. He used argument instead of the cane. He gently remonstrated when

Azim was insulting, and pointed out such inconsistencies in the venerated Quran as startled its devoted admirer.

"You read that half the moon fell at Mahomet's feet. You know not the size of the moon; the half would have covered all Arabia. In the Quran it is written that the Jews call Ezra the Son of God, and that Abraham offered up Ishmael. But in truth the Jews do not so speak of Ezra; and Isaac was the son who was offered up by holy Abraham."

Azim was not at once to be convinced; he maintained the correctness of the assertions made in the Quran regarding Ezra and Ishmael. D, the Christian, referred him to a Jew, there being happily one within reach. To him Azim appealed, and as the result was that the Jew confirmed the statements of the Christian, Azim's faith in the Quran and the false prophet was greatly shaken.

Shaken, not utterly destroyed. The strange idea entered the mind of this singular youth, that he would himself put Mahomet to the test of insult. Azim reproached him aloud as being bewuguf (senseless) and a deceiver, to see whether any answer would come. The false prophet remained as silent to his former disciple as was Baal to his priests on Carmel. Azim was a Mahomedan no more. But neither was he a Christian. Alas! there was a dark void in his mind; he had passed from bigotry into atheism! Two of Azim's friends shared his infidel opinions, one of whom was by birth a Hindu.

But Azim's spirit was not at rest; it required an object of faith. Strange to say the Hindu (still unconverted) was a means of drawing him towards Christianity, and encouraging him when he professed it, whilst the inconsistent life of a nominal Christian for more than a year hindered Azim from embracing the truth. Azim was, however, convinced at last, and to the no small surprise of a clergyman who had known him as a bigoted Mahomedan, applied for baptism.

The decisive step was taken, but Azim dreaded to tell his fondly loved mother what he had done. He was going to L for a Government examination, but had an interview with her before his departure. Azim had not the courage to confess that he was a baptized Christian, he only threw out vague hints. But the fact was speedily known. Before Azim started for L——— he had an angry visit from his step-father. Persuasions, bribes, and doubtless threats were used to induce him to recant, but Azim kept firm in the faith. He must have felt like a bird escaping from the fowler when he found himself on the road. His great trial was but postponed. After the examination Azim returned to his home. The scene which followed had evidently been so exquisitely painful that the convert wondered how he had been enabled to bear it. There in anguish, apart from him, sat his loved mother. He noticed that the bracelets which had fitted her arms now hung loose on the wasted wrists. Azim's mother exclaimed that her son had better have killed her, had better have died himself, than have so disgraced the family. God supported the poor young man through that terrible time of temptation; and he left, or, as we may say, was driven forth from

his home.

A trying interval succeeded. Azim was now poor, and had not the nourishing food to which he had been accustomed from childhood; he was unused to hardship, and a delicate constitution made him feel it the more. He does not appear to have met with much tenderness from his co-religionists, but was treated with affectionate hospitality by his unconverted Hindu friend. Finding how painfully her son was placed, the heart of the Mahomedan mother relented. Whatever relatives or bigoted acquaintances might say, she could not, would not, any longer shut her doors against her son. Azim returned to his home, but at first to find but little peace there. His step-father beat him hard with a shoe; if the Christian mentioned the name of the Lord Jesus curses burst from his mother's lips. She could not endure to see her son reading the Bible.

Azim begged to have a room to himself, where he could have a little quiet, and his request was granted. He there read the Gospel undisturbed, and filial love suggested to him an innocent device for introducing it to his bigoted mother. Studying up his subject in solitude, he afterwards told "the old, old story to his mother, without mentioning the name of the Saviour. At last when Azim had come to the account of the crucifixion, and the words, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!" he paused, and said to his listener, What do you think of such a being?" The Mahomedan bibi [lady, or "Mrs."] replied with emotion, "Very kind, very good." Then said the Christian, "This is Jesus." my At first his mother would hardly believe him; her mind must have been poisoned against One whom even Mahomedans usually honour; but after that time Azim had no more to suffer from the bigoted opposition of his mother.

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After Azim had been for about six months at his home, a grievous accident occurred. One day a monkey kept by her husband bit the poor bibi's foot, and drew blood. Either there was poison in the bite, or the state of the lady's health was such as to render the injury fatal. The poor mother drooped and faded away. It was at last evident that she was dying. The sufferer asked her son to take her into his arms, which he did, his hand supporting her head. Seeing that his mother was

sinking, Azim asked the momentous question, "What think you of Jesus?" The dying lips replied, "That He was a great Prophet, and the Saviour. I believe that He died for my sins.'

"Do you believe Him to be the Son of God? asked the anxious son. Alas! no! the poor Mahomedan, nursed in the strongest prejudices against that doctrine, could not say that she did. The light which shone on her was but feeble, but may we not hope that it was light from heaven, and that He whom she acknowledged as Saviour did not reject her at last? I could not help expressing this hope to Azim, who, I think, nourishes the same in his heart. "Oh! to see my mother in heaven!" he exclaimed. It must at all events be a comfort to him that she actually died in the arms of her Christian son.

Azim has since given repeated proofs of the sincerity of his convictions. He was robbed by his family of a large sum of money which would have been readily given to him, the rightful heir, if he would have consented to return to the faith of Mahomet. Azim gave up a good situation because it involved regular Sunday work, and so shut him out from Christian worship. Being highly educated, Azim obtained other employment, and fair were his earthly prospects; but he has resigned them to become a catechist, and so devote himself entirely to the service of the King.

There are two souls, yet in darkness, over whom the affectionate heart of Azim specially yearns his brother's, and that of his Hindu friend. If his story has interested the reader, let that interest resolve itself into earnest prayer that Azim may yet rejoice over these two wandering sheep, led by him to the Heavenly Shepherd.

OVER THE WATER.

BY EVELYN R. GARRATT.

CHAPTER III.-MRS. LANCASTER'S DAY DREAM. ELL, you see, ma'am, it don't do me any harm, and it pleases him, poor old gentleman," said Mrs. Caston, the baker's wife, as she handed the change for a pound across the counter to her customer. "It's just a fancy of his, and he's a nice quiet old gentleman and gives no trouble; so I'm glad to oblige him now and then. It certainly is wonderful the interest he takes in this missionary box, just as if his very life depended upon whether it got full or not."

There were not many good shops in Inglesby, the place being little more than a large straggling village; nevertheless it had its old-fashioned market-place, a few shops, among which Mr. Caston, the baker's, was the most important, its twelve hundred inhabitants, and its old church. Mr. and Mrs. Caston had sittings just under the pulpit, and the former was often called upon, should one of the churchwardens be away, to hand round the collecting plate. Not a few envied them their position in Inglesby, and they were looked up to with a reverence almost amounting to awe by some of the smaller shopkeepers, and thought of with satisfaction by those who were on the look-out for subscribers to the various

parish charities. Their names often headed subscription lists. "I always like to help a needy case," Mrs. Caston would say complacently, as she lay down a shilling or so to be given to this or that charity. "It doesn't hurt me, and may do good."

There was something satisfactory in this statement to Mrs. Caston's mind. It was such a comfort to be able to spare a shilling now and then without feeling the loss. It would have been so awkward, she thought to herself, to have been unable to give help when asked, and yet if they had been obliged to go without any of their little luxuries in consequence, Mrs. Caston would scarcely have felt inclined to be so liberal. When old Mr. North had asked her to allow a missionary box to lie on harm, and would please her lodger, so there it stood among the cakes and her counter, she had made no objection; it would certainly do her no buns, unnoticed, till Mrs. Lancaster, seeing it, remarked upon it."

Mrs. Lancaster was not alone; her son, already a good deal taller than his mother, was with her, and stood listening to Mrs. Caston's remarks

with an amused expression of face, and a slight curl hovering about his lips. "From all I hear he must be a queer old fellow," he remarked, as he took up the missionary box to examine it. "Not much in it, eh, Mrs. Caston ?"

"Only that which the old gentleman puts in himself, sir,” said Mrs. Caston. "It isn't likely that it'll do much good, but it pleases him and it costs me nothing."

"That's the best of it, isn't it, Mrs. Caston?" said Leith Lancaster. The slight contempt in his tone was unperceived by Mrs. Caston, and at that moment the sound of Mr. North's walking-stick caught their ears, and Mrs. Caston had only just time to whisper, "Here he is," when her lodger came in. He did not notice Mrs. Lancaster and her son, bent and trembling as he was, but going straight towards the counter and dropping a coin into the missionary box, he asked eagerly

"Has anything been given to the Lord this afternoon, Mrs. Caston ? " "Well, no, sir, I'm afraid not to-day," said his landlady, with a look across the counter at Mrs. Lancaster as much as to say, "I told you so." "Good Lord," he murmured, his face falling with disappointment, "teach them to give while they can, while it costs them something. Shall I offer unto the Lord of that which doth cost me nothing?"

The last words were audible only to Leith Lancaster, who stood looking after Mr. North, as he turned away, with a strange expression on his face; and while his mother was engaged in speaking to Mrs. Caston he dropped a coin into the box.

"That old fellow's ideas of giving are singularly different from those of Mrs. Caston, eh, mother!" he remarked, as on leaving the shop he tucked his mother's arm into his.

This mother and son were worth looking at as they passed down the High Street. Leith Lancaster was as good-looking as his mother, indeed there was a strong likeness between them, and never was there a prouder or fonder mother than she. Her son was nearly perfection in her eyes, and that he would one day make a great name for himself she was convinced. He was at present reading for the Bar, and had every prospect of getting on well in his profession. Mrs. Lancaster had been pleased when Leith had announced his intention of following his father's profession, for "now," she thought to herself, " I shall be able to keep him in England; I couldn't live without Leith, it would just break my heart to part with him." And then she had pictured the cosy little home she would make for her boy in London, so pretty it should be, with everything in it to attract him, and to rest both mind and body, after a long day in chambers or in court. How happy they would be! They were so now in their pretty country home, but the idea of being by Leith's side when he was in the midst of the whirl and bustle of London life, when, as she hoped, he would begin to mount the ladder of fame, and to be able to cheer him on and encourage him forward, was very fascinating to his mother; and now that Leith was so soon to be called to the Bar, her dream seemed to be very near fulfilment.

"But supposing Leith marries ?" her mother, who was still living, though now entirely confined to her sofa, had once said to her, when Nona had been telling her her happy dreams for the future.

"Ah, supposing!" she had answered with a smile, though with a certain little pain in her heart, which was not quite new to her. "But we are too happy for him to think about that yet, mother, and when he does, I'm sure Leith's taste will agree with mine, and I shall gain a daughter rather than lose a son."

And there the matter had ended. But that night Nona Lancaster had lain awake for long, thinking of the possibility.

Leith had been his mother's comfort ever since that day long ago when she stood by her husband's grave. At first the fact of having to take care of her little son had been an unspeakable relief to her, but as he grew older they insensibly changed places. It was Nona who was now taken care of, and with such tenderness as she had never expected to experience again on this earth.

As for Leith, his mother was at present his idea of what a woman should be; her sympathy and love had never failed him. When a schoolboy no one had taken such a vivid interest in all his concerns as his mother; how excited she had grown over the various cricket matches he had taken part in; how interested to hear all about his friends and their doings; and when at College the thought of his mother had often helped him to resist

the many temptations which surrounded him. Leith knew, too, that he owed much to her prayers. Religion was never forced down his throat, but his mother's holy and bright life did more than many words for him, and he verily believed that it was in answer to his mother's prayers that he was not allowed to rest till he had knelt a conscious sinner at the Cross of Christ. And now nothing seemed too much for Leith to do for his mother, and he was not a little proud of her.

"You are as pretty as ever," he had said that very morning, as he stood looking down upon her just before starting for their walk.

"What nonsense, my boy!" she had answered laughingly, but with a pleased flush spreading over her face; for what mother would not be pleased at her son's spontaneous admiration of her.

"Nonsense!' Indeed it is no such thing. You are prettier to me than any woman I know, so there's a compliment for you, little mother," and then they had started arm-in-arm for their walk. Ah, how happy they were, this mother and son!

After his conversation with Mrs. Caston, Mr. North had made his way slowly upstairs, stopping to take breath every step or two; but as he approached his own door he quickened his pace, and arrived there, fumbled somewhat nervously with the handle. It was with some difficulty that at last he was able to turn it, and then, standing on the threshold and shading his eyes with his hand, looked eagerly round the room as if in search of something. He need not have shaded his eyes, poor old man, for the sun did not often shine too brightly into his room.

"Not here!" he murmured, his hand dropping wearily by his side. "I had almost hoped she would have been here to-day; but no, I won't complain, and it isn't to be wondered at that the pretty child shouldn't care to come and see an old man. But," he added, more brightly, "she said she would come, bless her, and she won't break her promise."

Taking another look round, as if still half hoping to find what he was in search of, he closed the door behind him, put his stick and hat on the table, and settled himself in his arm-chair to read. He could never, however, read for long together; his book was soon laid aside, and he looked round the room with a sigh. "It's lonely, Lord," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I would like to have some one to come and see me now and then, if it is Thy Will. Just a little lonely, Lord."

Mr. North did not notice that the door was opened, and that the young servant had entered, carrying the tea-things.

Jessie had caught his last words, and after resting the tray on the table, stood with open mouth and eyes watching him. She had often heard him talk to himself, but there was a certain look upon his face this afternoon which she had never noticed there before, and the words caused a tender pity for him to rise in her heart. A feeling of awe took possession of her. Was God really so near as that old gentleman seemed to think? And could He hear the faint trembling murmur that issued from his lips? That God heard all, saw all, Jessie's Sunday-school teacher, Mrs. Lancaster, had often told her, and she never doubted but that her word was to be depended upon; but somehow she had never realised it as she did this afternoon on hearing Mr. North's prayer. The great God, then, must have heard her answering her mistress so rudely this morning. He must have heard her last Sunday at the school, whispering to Jane Abbot during prayer time, and she began to feel uncomfortable.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Jessie ?" said Mr. North, suddenly opening his eyes. "I thought it must be near tea-time. Did you ask your mistress about the grey parrot, my dear?"

"Yes, sir," answered Jessie, "and mistress 'll see about it; but master's very partic'lar fond of the parrot, sir, and mistress don't know if he'll be willing to spare it."

"Tell Mrs. Caston that I'll take great care of it," said Mr. North. "Has any one been here this afternoon ? "

"To see you, sir? No, not to-day, as I know of."

"If ever any one comes to see me, and I should be out, ask her to wait; and don't forget, Jessie, to pull up the blinds, and to give her a book to look at."

"Is it a lady you're expecting, sir?" asked Jessie, her curiosity aroused for Mr. North had not as yet had any visitor to see him.

"Yes, a lady—a young lady-I can't remember her name; but she has light wavy hair and dark eyes, and looks just as if the sun must always smile upon her. Ah!" he murmured, "so like mine-so like!"