along with them. "Those," he said, not unkindly, are for your little boy he is to have them for his tea." Willy smiled and thanked him; and Roger took his basket and departed. But as he crossed the village green he could not help thinking of the gentle rebuke which the little boy had given him. It brought back to his mind his own early days, when he had a pious mother who taught him to read his Bible, and trained him up in the fear of God. But he had not heeded her counsels; he had grown up a careless and ungodly man; and he could make use of language at which he would once have shuddered, without feeling either sorry or ashamed. How great the contrast! Roger sighed as he thought of it. Willy remembered the old man when he repeated his prayers that evening. He prayed that he might learn to fear God, and to hallow his name. Several days passed away, but Roger did not call again with his fish-basket. Nurse Brown wished he would come. She did not want any more herrings, but she had a little parcel to send by him to her son, who lived in the next town. She could not tell what made him stay away so long. She became rather impatient, and so she sent Willy with the little parcel to Roger's cottage. It was rather a long walk for Willy, but she could not go herself, for she had a bad headache, and Willy was always glad to be useful. When he reached the house where Roger lived, he knocked at the door, and Roger's gruff voice said, "Come in." Willy went in, and found Roger sitting by the fire, with one foot laid up in a chair. He bade Willy take a seat, and then he told him why he had been unable to call as usual at Mrs. Brown's. He was confined to the house with a lame foot; but it was much better, and he hoped in the course of a day or two to walk as well as usual. "How did you hurt it ?" asked Willy. 66 Why, I was out in the woods last Sunday," said Roger, "and I was foolish enough to climb up a tree, in order to get a large branch that I wanted; and in coming down again I slipped, and gave a twist to my foot. I forgot, you see, that I was not so young as I once was." Willy thought that he had forgotten something besides that. And he looked so seriously at the old man, that, Roger said, "What are you thinking about, my little fellow ?" Willy started. "Only that it was Sunday, Mr. Mills" Roger did not choose to understand him. "Well, and what of that ?" he said. "It is God's day," said Willy. "But, perhaps you were obliged to do it," he added, not wishing to blame the old man. "Obliged? no, indeed," said Roger, "it was only for my own pleasure. I generally spend my Sundays in that way." "I am very sorry," said Willy, quietly. He spoke so simply, but so earnestly, that the reply the old man was about to utter was checked. "Why are you sorry ?" he said. : "Because," said Willy, respectfully, "it is not keeping the sabbath day holy and that is not right, you know. Why don't you go to the service of God on Sunday, Mr. Mills? it is so pleasant there." "Is it ?" said Roger, with a half-smile. He did not seem to think so. "Yes, indeed it is," said Willy. “The singing is so beautiful, it makes me think of the angels when I hear it; and Miss Rose has taught us some of the tunes. She says everybody ought to try to sing and praise God. Will you come next Sunday? there is plenty of room downstairs." "What a tongue you have!" said Roger; "how fast it runs on! I don't wonder Mrs. Brown has the headache, if that is how you chatter all day. Good-bye. Tell her the parcel shall go before Saturday." As Willy was going out at the door, Roger called to him, and said, "Do you like chrysanthemums? You may pick one or two for yourself from that large bush on the right-hand side of the garden." Willy was very fond of flowers, and he went home feeling quite repaid for his long walk. Roger watched him through the gate. You would not have thought there was much to envy in that little pale face and lame figure; and yet Roger felt that Willy was richer and better off than he was. For Willy loved God, and trusted in him; and Roger did neither. The old man was not happy; how could he be? He knew that his time in this world was getting shorter and shorter, and he also knew that he was not prepared for a better. He never looked at his Bible, nor went to the house of God, nor cared for his soul. Long after Willy left him, he sat thoughtfully by the fire. He was thinking of the years of his childhood, and of the sweet lessons which he had then learned at his mother's knee. And his heart grew softened as he remembered them. There was a tear on his rough cheek as he got up to see after his tea. Willy's words had dropped like seeds into rough and unpromising ground, but God watered and blessed them: and before many weeks had passed away, Roger found his way to the house of God, where he listened with attention to the teaching of his word. If you had asked him about it, and if he had told you the truth, he would have said it was Willy's invitation that had brought him there. THE CONVERTED CHILD. PICTURE GALLERY OF THE GREAT AND GOOD. ARCHBISHOP CRANMER.-DIED 1556. A GREAT many years ago, the people in England were Roman Catholics. They used to worship the virgin Mary, and believed that if they prayed to the departed saints, their prayers would be heard, and that the saints would intercede with God for them: just as the people in some foreign lands still believe. Now we know from the Bible that there is but One |