Don't go;' but I could see plainly he did not want me to I wonder if he envied my good luck."

go.

Nay, nay, Tom," said his wife, "George is never the man to do that. But tell me what he said."

Accordingly Holden repeated what had passed.

"That's all worth considering," said Mary, when he had finished. "I don't think it will do, Tom."

Tom's judgment was with his wife and his friend. Still he hankered after the situation. One circumstance turned the scale.

When Tom went home to dinner the following day, he found a pedlar who was in the habit of tramping about the country with drapery goods talking to his wife somewhat angrily. He found, on inquiry, that Mary, unknown to him, had contracted what, for people in their circumstances, was a tolerably large debt, which she was unable to pay; and the pedlar was threatening to put her husband into the county court. With some little difficulty he was induced to grant them a little longer time, and he took his departure. Tom ate his dinner very gloomily, and went away to his work without speaking more than very few words.

He brooded on what had passed all the afternoon, and in the evening, as soon as he and his wife were by themselves, he said, "Now, Mary, we shall have to go to Corby. it's plain we can't make ends meet with what we have."

Mary expressed her sorrow for what had happened, and begged him to go and see Mr. Wilson before deciding; but he had made up his mind. That evening he wrote a letter to Mr. Selby accepting the situation; and the following morning he went to his master and gave up his present employment.

He went to Corby with the best intentions, both as to going to a place of worship every Sunday and sending his children to school. But they were often kept at home, especially the girls-always when the weather was stormy. To do him justice, he tried to get to service every Sunday morning, and as long as he could control his children he took them with him. But that soon came to an end; and in the course of a year or two he was often seen going on a Sunday morning alone. They had fallen under the influence of their new associates, who led them sadly astray from everything that was good. He would have sent them away to situations on farms at a distance; but they

preferred remaining at Corby. The wages were better, they said, and they had more freedom than they would have in farm-service. Besides, the lads said, they would have a chance of seeing more of life. Sons and daughters alike were all a grief and trouble to their father and mother; for not one of them turned out well. In short everything had turned out just as his friend Crofton had forewarned him.

To crown all, a race-horse, on which heavy sums had been staked, was found one morning altogether unfit to run; and it was suspected, not without reason, that one of Holden's sons had heen bribed to inflict upon it some temporary injury. The result was that he was dismissed, and his father too, on the utterly groundless suspicion of his being a party in the affair.

He settled once more in the neighbourhood of his old friend, thankful to obtain harder work and lower wages than he had before he went to Corby.

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Ah, George," he said one day, as he saw Crofton surrounded by his well-regulated and happy family, "if I had only taken your advice ten years since, Mary and I might perhaps have been as happy in our children as you are in yours."

"DOWN WITH THE TYRANTS."

"HARK to that, now!" exclaimed a surly-looking man as he lounged along from his work-such work as he chose to do, or rather such work as he could get; the quality being no longer in his own power, and the quantity only being at the option of his temper and caprice.

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Well, what of it?" said his companion, the merry bells pealing a renewed burst of music upon their ears, as they came nearer to the village.

"What of it? Why who cares what happens to them? As if it mattered to you and me who comes into the world, and who goes out of it," he replied, scornfully.

"Well, I don't see it does us any good to scoff at other people's joy; better open heart and take it in, man. They do say that a son born to his lordship will save a deal of law troubles, and settle things straight; so there's a good call for joy, you see."

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Ay, to them, I dare say; but what's it all to us? and why must the village be dinned about it?"

"You'd better let old Clarke know what you think of his bells that are the pride of his heart," said the other, laughing; "for my part I like the sound of 'em, 'specially when they ring for something beside practice."

Just then the two men passed the garden hedge of a little cottage, the tenant of which was trimming the stray shoots with a sickle.

"Good evening," said he, kindly, and they stopped before the hedge. "Doesn't it do one's heart good to hear those pleasant bells calling us to rejoice with them that do rejoice?"

"Them that like can," said Timothy Wilde, gruffly.

"To be sure, and I suppose I can do it better than some of ye, seeing that I've got a son, too, born the same day as the little lord," said Blythe." It's as if we were rejoicing together over our Great Master's gifts."

"It'll be long enough before bells ring for any good that comes to you and me," said Wilde; “and as for your being glad over your boy born to work, and want, and hardship, I can't pretend to understand it. I should take it something to be sorry for."

"You've brought so many thoughts into my heart, neighbour, that I scarce know which to answer first," said Blythe ; "but I should like to say for you and me, that if there's joy in heaven over us as repenting sinners 'born again' into the family of God, we've had higher friends to be glad over us, and sweeter music sung at our birth than any that earth can make. Has the chime of the angels' song ever sounded by faith on your ear, neighbour Wilde?" Wilde gave an uncomfortable grunt of displeasure, and Blythe continued,

"As for my boy 'born to work and hardship,' I leave out want,' because if he fears God, and waits upon him, he can never know it; for it's written, They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing,' I hope my son will be a working man, like the Son of God before him."

"Then pray why shouldn't my lord's 's son and heir be a working man, too?" asked Wilde. "Why should he be born to riches, and honours, and nothing to do, any more than yours?"

"Poor little chap," said Blythe, with a comical look. "If he lives to own the wealth and honours, he'll have enough to do before he's called to account for them. But you talk as if things fell out in a queer, higgledy-piggledy

way, and didn't know that the Almighty rules the affairs of men. He puts one child into a castle and the other into a cottage, and his blessing and care are over both alike if it's asked for. Who is to call Him to account for choosing that one shall work with his head, and the other with his hands? Come, come, neighbour Wilde, you want to quiet your heart, and smooth your brow with the good word that tells about these things, and shows us our right place. The littlest man in all the world is the man who wants to be great without God's leave; for he that humbleth himself shall be exalted, and he that exalteth himself shall be abased.""

"Oh! you always come in with your texts; there's no arguing with you.”

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Well, you see, the text settles it. God speaks, and we've no more to say, but should just listen and obey."

"Wait a bit, and see whether you won't want an argument when you see your children striving, and toiling, and starving."

"Stop there!" cried Blythe, quickly. "If they go the way I shall train them, that's just impossible, for it's written Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things,' food, and raiment, shall be added unto you.""

"Just you wait, I say," persisted Wilde, "and see your lads struggling for life, as it were, while my young lord is pampered and petted with more than he knows what to do with; and perhaps you'll allow then, that things aren't altogether as well as they ought to be."

"Now, Wilde, just look you here. I hold that a man who can work is worth a dozen who can't; and a man who puts bread into his own mouth is worth twice as many who open their mouths to have it put in for them. So much for the dignity of a working man. But suppose our boys do have a struggle for it on the up-hill of life, what's to hinder them reaching the top? I mean what's to hinder them gaining their object, while they look to God for his help and blessing?"

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They can't rise, everything keeps us down; we don't have a chance by the side of rank, and money, and influence," muttered Wilde.

"Nay, nay, friend Wilde, there isn't a good place in this land that a working man may not attain to. Only let him and the Lord God agree about it, and nothing shall hinder.

Laws don't hinder; they are made for us all. Great men don't hinder; nay, I've seen them delight to lend a hand in raising one who is coming up beside them. But I'll tell you what hinders, there are tyrants in the land."

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So there are; down with the tyrants!" exclaimed Wilde, with startling animation.

"Ay, down with them," said Blythe. "Idleness, and discontent, and covetousness are cruel tyrants, that have done more harm in this land than time can tell of. Let our boys master these, ourselves setting them the example, and they'll take rank with the noblest."

"Very fine," said Wilde," and you in a bit of a cottage here, at a mere bit of wages a week. Much good your fine principles have done for you."

"You're welcome to come in and see my cottage," said Blythe; "it's my palace, and I'm as happy as a king. Ah, yes! a deal happier, too, for I'm a free man, and a good king is his people's slave. Better let the Lord choose for you, Timothy Wilde; he knows best what you and I are fit for."

"Go and train your boy, and let's see what you can do with him," said Wilde. "Come along, Dick, and leave him to his dreams and texts."

And very good company Mr. Blythe found them, until he was permitted to hold his tiny babe in his great, strong arms, and the thrill of new obligations and new affections played pleasant gambols in his heart.

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Martha, dear wife," said the father, as he laid the little one by its mother's side, "I've had a challenge this evening. I accepted it, and I want you to back me.'

"A challenge, Robert!" said Martha, in surprise. "You don't heed challenges."

"I heed this, however, and, God helping us, we'll win. I am challenged to train this boy in the way he should go,' and let the consequence be seen. Timothy Wilde thinks it can't help but end any way in want and disappointment."

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'Oh, no, no, God won't let it!" said the mother, earnestly, as she clasped the little one closer. "We'll do as

he has told us, Robert, and leave the rest to him."

"But it's written, Man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward,'" said Robert.

"Yes; but that's the trouble that's to do us good, you know," said the simple-hearted believer. "That's not