My grandfather said that he might, and promised to answer it also if he could.

"Thank you; I know I may depend on what you say, and I do not ask out of mere curiosity," said Mr. Hayward; and then he put the question whether he remembered seeing, on such and such a day, two men in a light cart drawn by a grey horse, and whether the two men were intoxicated.

My grandfather replied that he certainly had a distinct recollection of the circumstances; and that, he was sorry to add, neither of the men appeared to be sober. He saw them both come out of the " Eight Bells;" and his attention having been called to the two men, he must say that both had the appearance of having been indulging themselves in drink.

"Thank you," said Mr. Hayward again; "you have confirmed what I have heard from other sources, and I am obliged to you for the information:" and then the gentleman passed on,

A few evenings after this, as my grandfather was sitting alone in his little parlour, there came a knock at his outer door; and, after a message and a few words had passed, three persons were shown into the room, and were requested by my grandfather to be seated.

"You do not know me, sir?" said one of the visitors, opening the conversation.

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"I cannot say that I do, my friend," replied my grandfather, looking inquiringly into the speaker's face; "and yet-" "You have seen me before now, I believe, sir," resumed the other. My name is Brown, Henry Brown: this (turning to the man on his right hand) is Mr. Fletcher, a class-leader, sir, in our little chapel at Nethergrange; and this (turning to the third visitor) is Mr. Crawley, of the Eight Bells,' in H-, sir."

My grandfather looked from one to the other of the guests, and nodded, as they were thus introduced to him ; but did not speak.

"We have called on a little business, sir, as we told your servant; and if you will be kind enough to hear a short story I have to tell, the business will be explained. Will you kindly hear me, sir?" The visitor spoke respectfully but gravely; and my grandfather, who began to have a confused idea of the nature of the business which had brought the men to his house, as gravely signified his assent.

"About a month ago, sir," Brown began, without further preface, "I had occasion to walk over from my cottage at Nethergrange, to H. I was in great trouble, sir-I am in trouble now; but, thanks be to God, not in such great trouble now as I was then. My great trouble, my worst trouble, then, was the illness of my wife; and God has mercifully heard my prayers, sir; and, though she seemed at death's door, has restored her to me, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow.”

My grandfather looked at the man keenly, for he thought of the scene he had witnessed; but he did not speak, and Brown went on.

"My business at H- was to go to the doctor for some medicines; and when he had made them up, he said to me, Make haste back, and let your wife take the draught directly there's no time to be lost.' And he said a few words more, that made my heart sink very low indeed.

"Well, sir, I was hurrying back, when passing the 'Eight Bells,' I saw Mr. Werter's cart standing there; and it came into my mind that he might give me a lift if he were going home. But I did not like to ask him, either, knowing what I did know of him. While I was hesitating about it, Mr. Crawley came out to the door. He knew me, because I have done work for him; and he caught me by the arm. Will you have the goodness to say here what you said to me, Mr. Crawley?" said Brown, looking towards the landlord.

'He

"Willingly," said Mr. Crawley; "that's what I am come for. I said to you, 'Brown, here's Mr. Werter in at my bar. He is mad drunk,' I said, and so he was. drove up to my door drunk, and he has been calling for brandy, and I won't let him have it. I don't know what to do with him:' that's what I said; I can't have him in my house making a disturbance, and if I let him go off again behind that spirited horse, there will be some accident. So I am looking out for some one to take care of him; and you are just the man, because he knows you, and you know him and his horse.' There, sir, (turning to my grandfather) those were my words."

"And I said that I did not like to interfere, seeing that Mr. Werter was in that state," resumed Brown.

"You did; and I said that if you did not do it for the man's sake, you might for the child's; for Mr. Werter's little boy was in the cart, and was frightened, as well he

might be. And then," continued Mr. Crawley, "you went into my house, and tried to persuade the madman to go home. And first he swore at you, and said he wouldn't; and then he said he would. And all this time he was staggering out and in, first in my bar, and then on the pavement, holding you by the arm, to steady himself; till once he overbalanced and fell, and pretty near dragged you down too. At last you got him into the cart somehow, and drove off. That's my part of the story," added Mr. Crawley, looking my grandfather in the face; "and it is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; and as to Brown's being intoxicated-"

"I am glad to be convinced," my grandfather began; but Brown stopped him.

"Will you please, sir, to hear what Mr. Fletcher wishes to say?'

دو

Mr. Fletcher's story was to the effect that very painful reports had reached his ears respecting Henry Brown; and that, as his class-leader, and also as a fellow-Christian, he had felt it his duty to make inquiries. That he had traced these reports to Mr. Cartwright, the tailor, who had told several persons, who, in their turn, repeated the story, that Brown had been seen in a disgraceful state of insobriety in the streets of H- in company with drunken farmer Werter, who was shouting and hallooing with all his might, while Brown, very flushed and unlike himself, was furiously driving the farmer's light cart.

"All this I heard, sir," continued Mr. Fletcher, "and I am ashamed to say that I almost believed it, on Mr. Cartwright's testimony, especially when he brought your name in, sir, as having witnessed it too. But I went at once to my friend Brown, and when I heard his story, I saw at once how I and others had wronged him.”

"I see I have wronged him too; and I thank you heartily for coming to set me right," said my grandfather; "and I hope my good Christian brother will forgive-"

"I don't know that I have anything to forgive, sir," said Brown, once more interposing; "you made a natural mistake, sir; and things did look queer against me, I admit. I was flushed, though not with drink, but with shame and vexation; and I was driving fast, for I wanted to get out of everybody's sight as soon as I could; and I wanted to get home as well, on my poor wife's account. No, sir; there's nothing to forgive. But I have a little bit

more to tell, sir, if you will hear me out; and then I may ask you to do a kindness. You know Mr. Hayward, sir ?"

"To be sure-certainly I do," said my grandfather; "and I remember-yes-I gave him a wrong impression. I'll go to him at once and contradict it. He told me he did not ask out of mere curiosity."

"No, sir; the truth is, Mr. Hayward had offered to lend me enough money to take to the forge where I have worked all my life almost, on my own account, my old master being dead. Mr. Hayward is a kind, liberal gentleman, sir; and he had offered to do this because, he said, he believed me to be honest and industrious and sober; but now he says--"

My grandfather did not wait to hear more. He was on his legs in the passage, his hat in one hand, his stick in the other, even while Brown was speaking.

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"Come along, friends," said he; come along; it will be all in your way home to call there-"

"But it is out of your way, three long miles, sir, and the night is dark," said Mr. Fletcher, remonstrating.

"Three miles, sir! and suppose it were six miles, or nine, or twelve?"

In short, they walked off together; and three hours passed away before my grandfather returned home alone. He could not have slept peacefully that night if he had left an act of justice undone.

Henry Brown was enabled to take the forge, and he prospered.

"And I," said my grandfather, when he told the story, "learned a valuable lesson from my mistake: I learned that my own eyes are not always to be trusted; and much mischief would be avoided if Christians were oftener to remember the old Jewish law, and act up to the spirit of it, Thou shalt not curse the deaf, nor put a stumblingblock in the way of the blind.'"

OUR VOCATION,

PART II.

"The only amaranthine flower on earth,

Is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth."-Cowper.

MRS. WARREN was not the only reader of advertisements that morning.* A few miles from the quiet retreat whence *See January Number, p. 9.

she surveyed the world and its ways, stood a handsome house, where, but a few weeks before, a gay and happy party had daily assembled, surrounded by the luxuries of life, but whom the hand of death had suddenly transformed into a family of mourners.

A lady in the dress of widowhood sat leaning desolately back in her easy chair. Several young ladies seemed vainly trying to be industrious over their fancy work; a boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age was playing with the leaves of his Greek Testament; and a gentleman was seated at the table with a quantity of papers before him, on which he had been bestowing his earnest attention. Many an anxious look had been directed towards his countenance, as paper and bill passed under examination; and more than once when he seemed about to speak, and conscious of the interest hanging upon his words, he suddenly resumed his occupation, or seized a pen and made a crowd of figures, out of which however no bright result seemed to issue.

"I am very sorry to inform you, my dear madam," at last he began, as if with a strong effort-his auditors started, Mrs. Derwent sat upright to listen-" that my poor friend's affairs are left in some embarrassment; and to clear his name honourably will leave you in a very trying position."

The lady bowed: her daughters turned pale; and the youths looked wonderingly from one to another.

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Probably you did not purpose remaining in this house," suggested the executor.

Indeed I did; I had no idea it could be necessary to leave it," replied the widow, faintly. "But I beg to know the true state of our affairs."

Alas! the true state, however delicately hinted by the kind-hearted executor, was crushing enough. There was not sufficient to pay off the debts, even after everything should be sold; and the mother and her children must be cast destitute on the world. The truth told, the pitying friend withdrew for the present, leaving the family to realize together this unexpected aggravation of their sorrow. "Mamma, must I give up school now?" asked Percy, anxiously.

"Yes, dear, I see no way to help it," replied his mother, scarcely knowing what she said.

I

"And I did so want to be a clergyman: now I suppose never, never can," said Percy, passionately.