"LEAVE thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive: and let thy widows trust in me.' God had said this, and my father believed it; for he had strong faith in the promises of God. This faith did not leave him when heart and flesh failed; and he died in the assurance that the Saviour whom he loved, and who was taking him home, would not forsake the mourning widow and orphans he was leaving behind.

We were not forsaken. We had nothing to inherit except a father's good name-for our father was only a merMAY, 1863.

chant's clerk, and a long illness had exhausted his scanty savings-but this good name was an inheritance so valuable that, hard as the world is to those who need its help and rest solely upon it, it brought friends around us, who put us in the way of earning a comfortable living.

There were two children, my brother John and myself. I was the elder, and the education I had received warranted me, after a time, in undertaking the teaching of others. I became a daily governess, and was treated kindly as well as liberally by the parents of the children whom I taught. I might have improved my position, perhaps, by accepting one of the several offers I received, as a resident teacher; but I preferred living with my widowed mother.

My brother was received into the house in which my father had been a faithful servant; and after two or three years spent in gaining knowledge and experience, he went to America, where, in one of the large towns, a favourable opening seemed to present itself. The parting from him was painful; but it appeared right that he should go; and he went

John's departure made us feel lonely; it also left us with a vacant chamber and an almost unused sitting room. This was how we first of all began to think of having a lodger.

We lived in a quiet suburb, about two or three miles from the city, and the recommendations of our friends there made it easy to secure suitable and respectable persons to occupy the rooms. Our first lodger was an elderly, gray-headed gentleman, who had come to London for medical advice. He remained with us a few weeks, and on his return to his country home, he was succeeded by two young city clerks who had agreed to live together. They remained with us several months, and then, a coldness springing up between them, they separated; and our

rooms were once more vacant.

Other lodgers followed in succession, until, after the lapse of two years, a card was again in the parlour window, announcing that furnished apartments were to be let. I had returned from my daily duties, and my mother and I were at tea together, when a ring at the bell interrupted our conversation. It was a gentleman to look at the rooms. The tour of inspection was soon completed, and the gentleman expressed his satisfaction with the lodgings and the There was only one difficulty in the way; but this was a rather formidable one. The stranger could give no

terms.

references. He had only recently arrived in London, he said, where he was not at all known; his only acquaintance being with a lawyer on whom he had twice called on matters of business, and who had recommended him to our lodgings, "but without being sponsor for my respectability," the stranger added, with a smile.

As it proved, on further explanation, that the lawyer referred to was one of my father's old friends, the obstacle was not entirely insurmountable; and, not to enter into needless particulars, Mr. Merton, after an interval of two days, was received as our lodger.

Mr. Merton was a stranger, not only in London, but in England; and it added to the interest my mother began to feel in him, that his home was in America, though in a part of the country several hundred miles from the city in which my brother was living. Her sympathy was yet more excited towards him, when she learned some particulars of his history, while at the same time she gathered from his conversation and habits that he was "of the household of faith."

Mr. Merton was comparatively young; but he had had a rather large experience in worldly troubles. An Englishman by birth, he had, when a child, formed one of an emigrant family, and had become a naturalized American, though with strong yearnings towards his native land. In the course of his sojourn in his adopted country, death had again and again brought distress upon the diminished circle of his friends; and heavy losses in property had reduced his family from affluence to comparative poverty. His family now consisted of an aged mother, a sister, and himself; and his errand in England was to establish a claim to some ancestral property which had unjustly, as he believed, fallen into other hands. For his mother's and his sister's sake, he said, he had undertaken this uncertain adventure-a struggle at law of right against might.

This business occupied most of Mr. Merton's time. He had to make researches among old pedigrees, to search out witnesses, to hold long consultations with his lawyer, and I know not what beside; but I know that his anxieties were very great, and that though he was encouraged to proceed in his suit, he began to wish that he had not come to London on such an errand.

At last the day arrived when the cause was to come on in court. It was a cold winter's morning, I remember; and

the snow was falling fast when Mr. Merton buttoned up his coat, and started off to Westminster Hall. It was a cold, dark day throughout; and many times that day, when I should have been attending to my pupils, I found my thoughts wandering compassionately towards our poor lodger and his lawsuit, hoping and fearing alternately. By strong efforts I tried to shut Mr. Merton out of my mind, but I cannot boast that I was very successful; and I was glad when it was time to close my lesson books, say good-bye" to my pupils, and return homewards.

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Mr. Merton did not reach his lodgings until late that evening; and though in one sense it was no business of ours, my mother and I could not help feeling, I will not say curious, but anxious to know how his suit had ended. We were not long left in doubt.

"Well, Mrs. Arliss," said our lodger, in his usual pleasant manner, with a quiet smile on his countenance—“ I have got out of this troublesome business at last."

"I am not sorry to hear it," replied my mother; "for it has worn you down very much, though you have said nothing, Mr. Merton. I hope it has come to a good and right ending," she added.

"Oh yes, it is all right; I am sure of that," said our lodger.

"And you will come to your own again?"

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No, I do not say that; the cause has been decided against me."

"But you do not call that right, do you, Mr. Merton ?" said my mother, very feelingly, for the announcement really shocked her :- "I am sure," she went on, "that if you had not had right on your side, you would not have gone to law."

"I am obliged to you for your good opinion, madam, returned Mr. Merton; " and you do me justice, I hope, in thinking that I would not intentionally commit a wrong to obtain the largest estate in England. But it is possible to be mistaken, you know."

"But surely you have not been mistaken, have you, sir ?" my mother responded.

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Well, no, I believe not; and I have the satisfaction of knowing that my right is pretty generally acknowledged; but there was a link wanting in the evidence, and so my claim could not be legally established. It is better so, I have no doubt; though if I had had the ordering of it all, I dare say I should have brought about a different result;

*

and indeed when I turned to leave the court after the case had been decided against me, I felt for the moment both vexation and disappointment. But it was in better hands than mine."

"I do not think your lawyers have conducted your case well, Mr. Merton," I interposed.

"It was in God's hands, Miss Arliss; and he knows what is best for us all, and does what is best too," replied Mr. Merton; and here the conversation ended for that time.

Our lodger had said that he had got rid of the troublesome business; and so in one respect he had: but the sequel was to follow, in his bill of costs; and though his lawyer was honest and generous, it was not to be expected that he could work for nothing. Moreover, Mr. Merton had the costs of his opponent to pay, and they were very heavy.

Well, these were settled, and then there was nothing more to detain our lodger in London. He told us this, one Saturday evening when he paid his week's rent, and gave us notice that he should soon leave us, as he intended to return home by a ship which would sail for America in less than a fortnight.

But it was not to be so. Before the next Saturday came, Mr. Merton was too ill to leave his room. He had bravely borne up against his disappointment, and had felt cheerfully resigned to the blow which had fallen upon his prospects; but this did not keep away sickness. He appeared to be as well as usual on Thursday; on Friday he was stricken down; and on Saturday, my mother proposed sending for a doctor.

Mr. Merton lifted his aching head, and smiled strangely, my mother thought. "I must try and get over this without a doctor," he said, in a low tone, but decidedly.

" Do

"Yon must not try to do anything of the kind, sir," said my mother. you know how ill you are?" "Ah!" he sighed, "I am afraid I am ill; but my ship will sail next week you know; and ill or well I must be on board then."

"The greater reason why you should have advice at once," replied my mother; "for my opinion is, you will not be able to go.

"I must," he said, rather impatiently—it was the first time he had ever spoken at all sharply; nor would he have done so then, only that neither his voice nor his feelings were under his own control:-"I must be on