doing good; and he set us an example that we should follow in his steps."

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Ah, well, well; if you come to that, I have done,” said Mr. Wilby.

"Not that I have done anything like it," continued my mother, who immediately shrunk from the comparison she had started: "Mr. Merton was sent to me, in God's providence; I did not look after him; and the question was, whether I would obey a plain command or not."

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True, true:- - Be not unmindful to entertain strangers,' and so on, I suppose. But all strangers are not angels, Mrs. Arliss, though some may be."

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"I never took Mr. Merton to be an angel, Mr. Wilby," retorted mother; my though he is a Christian brother, which is more to the purpose, perhaps. But I was not thinking of that exhortation, so much as of another, where we are told that' as we have opportunity' we are to 'do good to all men, especially to those who are of the household of faith.""

"You are right, I dare say, Mrs. Arliss," said the lawyer; "but you will never get rich at this rate."

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Ah, Mr. Wilby," returned my mother-and I have no doubt that tears of gratitude glistened in her eyes as she spoke; you did not think in this calculating way for yourself, when you exerted yourself so nobly for me and my children when my husband died."

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Pooh, pooh! that was a different thing: you were no stranger to me, you know; and this lodger of yours

"Is a stranger in a strange land, Mr. Wilby. Is not this the very reason why we should pity and help him all the more? You remember, sir, what is said about this in the Old Testament; and you cannot forget what our Saviour tells us his own words will be to his redeemed ones in that great day,-'I was a stranger, and ye took me in; I was sick, and ye visited me.'

"Yes, yes," said the lawyer, kindly; "and I know what follows, Mrs. Arliss,- Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' But" and I can imagine Mr. Wilby's shrewd, penetrating look as he said this-"But, is it not a long time to wait for this, my good friend?"

"I can wait," said my mother.

"There then, I have done,” added Mr. Wilby;

go on

and prosper: but you must not suppose that you are to

have it all to yourself, either. There were rich men who cast into the treasury of their abundance, as well as the widow with her two mites, you know. And I never heard that they were blamed for it, though they did not deserve so much praise as that poor woman. So-"

and Mr. Wilby put something out of his hand into my mother's, who presently found this something to be a five-pound note.

"Use it as you like for Mr. Merton," said the kindhearted lawyer, as he hurried away; "and if you want—I mean, if he wants-any more, let me know."

This was not the only act of kindness shown to our poor lodger by others beside my mother; and so it came to pass that after a long illness and a very slow and gradual recovery, neither he nor we (my mother and myself, I mean) were much poorer than at its beginning, excepting that Mr. Merton expected as a matter of course to receive a long bill for attendance and medicines from Mr. Farmer, and that my mother had freely given up the price due for the lodgings.

When our lodger was so far restored to health that he could walk out a little way, though with feeble steps, he one day received a visit from Mr. Wilby.

"You need not run away, Mrs. Arliss," said he ; for my mother was in Mr. Merton's sitting-room at the time: "my business will not take long, and is of very little importance and needs no privacy. I only want to ask you a question or two, Mr. Merton. Are you thinking of going hometo America I mean-very soon?"

Our lodger shook his head, sadly enough, and held up. his almost empty purse.

"Ah! I thought so: and as your former passage money appears to have been forfeited, the only way we can get rid of you is to put more money into that purse, I suppose." Mr. Wilby said this with a good-humoured laugh; but for all that, the words called up a momentary flush to the pale cheeks of the poor gentleman. It soon subsided, however, and he replied, meekly,

"I am sure you do not wish or intend to insult my poverty, Mr. Wilby."

"Just so and as we understand one another so far, we need not waste words or time about it; especially as I have none to spare. There, you need not grasp your purse so nervously-I am not going to put money into it-at

any rate not in the way you seem to fear. I have a favour to ask of you, Mr. Merton."

"A favour of me, sir?"

"Yes; if you feel strong enough to give me a few hours of your help."

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Our lodger rose from his seat, and took a step or two towards his hat and stick. I am strong enough and ready," he said.

"Ready enough to jump at a conclusion, I see. But I do not want your help in walking the streets of London, so please to sit down again, my friend. Are you strong enough to give me a few hours every day, here, at your own desk, in copying law papers?"

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Yes, sir, and

"That will do then. The truth is, I have a press of business just now; and you really would oblige me by using your pen for me, while your plans are unsettled and your time hanging heavily on your hands, perhaps. So if you really think it will not be too much for you

No, sir, it will be a great relief to me." "I'll send the papers round, with instructions. You need not work too hard, you know; but I shall leave Mrs. Arliss and you to settle that matter between you." By this time, the kind-hearted lawyer had edged himself to the door, and before Mr. Merton could reply he was gone.

A good many months passed away, and our lodger was busily employed all day long in writing for Mr. Wilby. By this time I had returned home, and had resumed my previous mode of giving daily lessons; and as this kept me fully occupied, only the early mornings and evenings were passed in my mother's society. I saw very little of Mr. Merton; but I could not help knowing that his health was quite restored, and that, relieved from the constant anxiety and worry of his unhappy lawsuit, he was more cheerful and joyous than before his illness.

Mr. Wilby had made no terms with him-had not even spoken of remuneration for his services; but when he began fairly to earn the means of subsistence, our lodger was liberally dealt with, so that, by this time, he had been enabled to pay his doctor's bill (not a very heavy one), and to resume his weekly settlement for board and lodging.

As to the old score, for the time when our lodger was so ill and so destitute, it had been the cause of more than one good-natured but energetic dispute between Mr. Merton and my mother; but these had ended by my mother's having her own way; and this way was, that, having given, and freely as she hoped, the cup of cold water to Christ's disciple in the name of Christ, she could not and would not afterwards make it a matter of merchandise.

A good many months passed away; and we were going on in our ordinary quiet way, when a letter came to us from my brother, about whom we had begun to feel more than usually anxious; for it was long since we had heard from him. The letter contained bad news. John had been unsuccessful, had lost almost all the little property he had previously saved, had left the city in which. he had lived and traded, and in travelling hundreds of miles across the wide country to another town where he had hoped to meet with greater success, he was taken ill, and was laid up for many weeks. The only encouraging intelligence the letter contained was that my brother had entered upon a new engagement, which would make it necessary for him to return to England in the course of a few weeks. This was joyful news to us, and made us the less regret his disappointments.

It was curious enough that by the same mail a letter came for our lodger; and while we were, that evening, soberly talking over our dear John's altered prospects, Mr. Merton broke in upon us with a radiant countenance; and yet there seemed a little cloud upon it, we thought.

"I shall very soon have to say good-bye to you and to all my kind friends in London," he said, as he gave my mother the letter he had received, and asked her to read it. It was from a person in New York-an old friend of Mr. Merton; and was principally on business-the gist of it being an advantageous offer to our lodger of commercial employment if he would immediately return to America.

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What am I to do, Mrs. Arliss ?" he asked, when my mother had read the letter.

"You will go, of course," said she.

"Yes, I suppose so," he replied, musingly. "You think it right that I should go, do you not?"

you,

Mr. Merton;

"I do indeed. We do not want to lose but you surely cannot hesitate." "What do you think, Miss Arliss?" said our lodger, turning to me.

"What would your own mother and sister think, Mr. Merton ?"

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True," he said: "if it were not for this, I am not sure that I should be tempted by my friend's representations; for I like England too well to leave it lightly but this consideration ought to decide me at once.'

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It was a strange mood that Mr. Merton seemed to be in. Why he should like England so well, where he had experienced so much trouble and vexation and disappointment, was what we could not understand. But it was no business of ours; and-in short, whether we thought little or much about it, is of no consequence. It is enough to say that before many days had passed away, we had lost our lodger; and we began to count the weeks which would elapse before my brother could reach home.

The weeks dwindled down to days; and my brother made his appearance. That we were glad to see him, and to hear his voice again, after so long an absence, may easily be imagined; we were glad, too, that his health was restored, especially when we heard from his own lips that his illness in America was far more serious than in his letters he had given us reason to suppose—so serious, indeed, that he was very near death.

"And you did not let us know this, my dear boy," said my mother, almost reproachfully: you did not write to us till after your recovery; and then you did not tell us all the truth."

"I did not wish to give you more trouble than I could help, mother," said he; "it would only have made you uneasy if I had written more, or earlier; and it could have done no good. You could not have come over to nurse me, you know."

Our mother sighed, and pressed John's hand fondly in her own.

"And I was in such good hands, too," he continued, "that even you could not have nursed me with more kindness; and Mrs. Merton promised

"Mrs. Merton !" exclaimed my mother and I, at the same instant.