to bed, and began to lay the supper. The door was hurriedly flung open, and a tall man, his face begrimed and yet red and flushed, came into the room. Mrs. Brown thought of the receipt, and forced a faint smile. "Well, George, so here you are!"

"Here I be, yes. An' where's my supper? what's the use of you women, if you can't get a fellow's supper ready?" thundered George, with an oath.

"Oh, George! now do 'e sit down and be quiet. I'll get your supper."

"Look alive then," said George, throwing himself on a chair; "look alive, or one of these boots shall hurry ye.' The potatoes were soon turned out, but they were about half cooked. "Bless the woman," cried George, sticking his fork into one and another, "d'ye think I'll eat these? eat 'em yourself;" and he launched the dish at her head. Mrs. Brown was accustomed to this kind of reasoning; she avoided the dish, which fell with a crash upon the floor: a loud bang of the outer door told that George had gone. "Oh dear, oh dear!" said the poor woman to herself; "what shall I do? Gunpowder by name and gunpowder by nature, sure enough."

The Combeleigh powder-mills were situated on the "Wander" about a mile up the valley: the trees have been felled, the brook dammed up, the birds driven away, and the heavy beat of the machinery is heard all the day through. Men are swarming in every direction, some in one part of the mill, some in another, some busy on the tramway which connects the mill with the sea, for the shipment of powder. The bell rings for breakfast, and in a moment men and boys stream from the gates.

"Coming to breakfast, Gunpowder?" shouted a man to our friend George.

"Get on," growled George, "I'm comin' presently."

Breakfast is almost over, the men are sitting outside the little public-house, about a quarter of a mile from the mills, smoking their pipes or strolling by the side of the brook. Suddenly a slight puff of white smoke is seen, followed by an awful explosion, which shook the ground on which they were standing; for a moment every man stood still in horror, gazing in the direction of the mills. Bricks, stones, masses of iron were hurled into the air, and fell again burying themselves deep in the earth, and

the dense cloud of smoke hung like a pall over the ill-fated spot. The men starting to their feet made a rush towards the works.

"Stand back, lads," shouted the foreman, "stand back! the forward magazine may explode too; keep back, I say. Thank God 'twas breakfast time are all hands away? Every man answer to his name."

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George Brown, where is he?"

"George?" cried a man. "Gunpowder George, ain't he come away? He stopped back at breakfast time, told me he wor comin'; ain't he here? he's a dead man then."

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Poor fellow!" said the foreman ; ፡፡ we must try to find his body."

"Master, master!" shouted a lad, who had strayed away; master, here's George, blowed into this field, an' he's dead!"

They hastened to the spot. There lay George on his face; his hair, whiskers, and eyebrows were blown away, and his face blackened by the powder; his right arm hung useless; his clothes were burnt and torn to shreds.

"Here, lads, gently put him on this plank, and carry him quietly home."

The men sorrowfully stepped forward with their sad burden. On their way they met the whole village running towards the mill-women and children, and old silverhaired men and women, terrified by the violent explosion. Tenderly and carefully poor George was carried to the door of the little cottage, overhung with monthly roses. Poor Mrs. Brown was wringing her hands in

agony.

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Oh!" shrieked she, "what would I give to be able to follow the minister's advice now, and give him a kind look, and a kind word? Oh, my George! I shall never hear your voice again."

The men laid down their burden; as they did so, a heavy groan burst from the sufferer.

"He ain't dead, mistress,” said one of the men; "don't take on so. Here's the doctor."

Long and patiently the doctor examined the bruised and mangled form.

"He is terribly injured and burnt," said he; "his right arm is fractured; and even if he recovers, he will never see again, his eyes are destroyed."

Poor George lingered for weeks between life and death, most carefully nursed by his wife. His mates, with truehearted kindness, offered to take it in turns to sit up with him.

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'No, no," said Mrs. Brown, "thank ye, neighbours; you work hard by day, leave him to me."

Every day saw Mr. Thornton at the door.

"Let me come up," he said one day to Mrs. Brown, "and sit by him, and repeat a verse or two; he may be awake, and understand it sometimes."

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Just as you like, sir, but I reckon 'tis no use; he's silly, light-headed like; but walk up, sir."

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Mr. Thornton sat down in the darkened room, and in a soft, soothing voice, he repeated "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” God so loved the world, that he sent his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." Again and again, at intervals, did Mr. Thornton repeat the words of life. Mrs. Brown had been watching George through a restless night, but in the morning a change took place.

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Mary," said he, in a weak voice, "Mary, I've been to heaven, and I heard an angel tell me that, wicked fellow as I was, God would have mercy, and that the man who comes to Jesus, even wicked, swearing, drinking Gunpowder George, shall not be turned away. I wish I could hear them words again."

"You shall, George. It was Mr. Thornton who sat by you when you were light-headed, and repeated such beautiful verses. You thought his words were an angel's. But do rest. Thank God you're better."

Days and weeks rolled by. George heard again and again the voice he thought had been an angel's, repeating the words of life; and God's Holy Spirit opened his heart to receive them.

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Oh, sir," he said one day to Mr. Thornton; "it seems almost too much, that Jesus should love such a wicked, wild fellow as I have been; and yet, sir, I know that he does, and has died for me. What would I give to have my eyesight and strength again, that I might go to the works, and tell the lads to make sure about their souls

now! Oh, where should I have been, if God had killed me on the spot, as I deserved! God bless you, sir! I've given you many a rude word in years gone by, and I've never crossed the church door since I was married; but your words brought me to Jesus, you see.”

George lingered on for many months, but during all that weary time of suffering not an impatient word escaped his lips. One day, several of his mates were sitting round

his bed.

"Poor Gunpowder," said one of them, "how dreadful it must be to see nothing!"

Dreadful, mate, no 'tisn't; don't ye pity me. I've been stone-blind all my life, and now I've just begun to see. I can't look at you, but I can look at my Saviour, and then I looks forward too, and I sees a bright country, and Jesus is waiting for me there. I wouldn't change my blindness and bed of pain, mates, for life and health without Jesus."

T

George seemed to linger on his death-bed, to show to all the reality of the change, and to entreat others to seek the same Saviour.

"Well," said the men one to another, "there must be something in religion, when you see Gunpowder George. Why he's changed from a lion into a lamb and then he's so happy. If ever a man's fit for heaven, Gunpowder is."

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:

After some months of suffering, during which his witness for Christ was clear and consistent, George now began to sink rapidly.

"I'm getting near," he said, one night, to his wife. "Read where it says, "There shall be no night there.'

The summer morning was breaking, and the red gleams of the rising sun began to glitter on the window-pane. "What's that, Mary," whispered he, "that beautiful bright glory?"

"The sun is rising, George," said she...

A heavenly glow lighted up his face.

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Sun,-yes it is the sun, the Sun of righteousness. Let me go, Mary. Lord Jesus-oh how happy!" His hand dropped by his side.

"He's gone, Mary," said the nurse. soul."

"Come away, poor

Gone from a world of temptation, sin, and suffering; to join that happy throng who have washed their robes, and

made them white in the blood of the Lamb. for the day, the eternal day breaketh."

"Let me go;

Perhaps your life has been like that of Gunpowder George. He was a monument of God's mercy at the eleventh hour; but had you stood by his bedside, and had you seen the tears roll down his weather-beaten cheeks as he said, "Oh that I had my health and strength! how I would work for God! I've given my life to the devil!" you would not wish to put off repentance to a dying hour. "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found." When is that? Now-the present day-the present moment. Any accident-an explosion, a slip, a blow-may hurry your soul in an instant into the presence of God your Maker and your Judge. The eternal happiness or misery of your soul hangs on the present hour. Do not go to your work, and think no more of Gunpowder George; but pray from the bottom of your heart, "O God, grant that I may so live, trusting in Jesus, that my last end, like his, may be peace.