self if the deception extended also to minor matters. He no longer deemed it necessary to keep up even appearances, and not unfrequently jested at the simplicity of his wife's once believing him "a saint;" although, when she first became a mother, he seemed pleased and amused with the infant, and either was, or affected to be, touched by the earnest prayers and supplications she poured forth, that the child might be blessed, and become worthy of the name and calling of a Christian.

Had Grace made a parade of her feelings, her husband, judging from his own, might have doubted their sincerity; but he only heard them when she thought him hushed in sleep. At the midnight watch, when she trimmed her lamp, and looked into the peaceful face of her little one, so tranquil in its slumbers, then her prayers were not loud, but deep; for a tender mother's hopes, as she gazes on her child, are ever mingled with fearswhich nothing can dispel, except a true and perfect trustfulness in the allwatchful care of a benevolent God. It may be that, as with the woman in Scripture, her first entreaties have been unanswered. Yet is she not weary; her voice neither falters nor fails; the heart is still petitioning, and the pious mother's prayer floats upwards-on, on, from sphere to sphere -until it reaches the throne of the Great Omnipotent, whose dearest attribute is mercy!

I have said that his wife's maternal tenderness affected a heart which every-day occurrences continued to steep more deeply in hardness and sin; for the progress from idleness to comparative want, from want to vice, whether slow or not, is sure; and even a disinclination to employment, where there is nothing but industry to look to for support, is in itself a crime that heralds the approach of others more consuming. So that, when the momentary excitement to good feeling was past, Joseph Huntley relaxed into a cold indifference toward those whom it was his duty to cherish.

The rapidity with which love may glide from the heart of man is a moral phenomenon for which it would puzzle philosophers to account. The brief space of a few months not unfrequently converts the devoted into the unkind, or to a delicate mind still worse- the neglectful husband. Grace knew that Joseph's circumstances, when they married, were prosperous; but very soon after she was made a wife a change came over all things gradually it came, as a small cloud increases to an overwhelming tempest. In his business young Huntley might have been distinguished; but the orders he received were slighted for the boon companions of the village ale-house; and debts accumulated, which there was no money to pay.

"What sort of bread do you call this?" inquired Joseph, somewhat sulkily, of her who had prepared a homely cake, and baked it over the ashes, for his supper.

"It is nice wholesome food, Joseph, for I made it myself. You used to like my cakes."

"But the flour is coarse."

Grace did not reply.

"Did you hear me say the flour is coarse ?"

"It is not as fine as usual, for I brought it from my father's -- he gave me some; and-and

"And what, Grace?

women are seldom slow of speech." "The baker, love, has asked so often for his bill, that, as you told me I should have money to-morrow to pay him, I did not like to get anything more till then."

"Tell him to-morrow that I cannot pay him for a month; and manage, at the same time, to have properly boulted flour to make your cakes. This eats like saw-dust."

"My dear, dear Joseph! I really cannot put the man off. I promised faithfully as you told me. I will work night and day, Joseph - I will do anything you desire; but do not make me the instrument of falsehood indeed, indeed it will break my heart!"

Her husband looked for a moment into her face; but his countenance expressed no sympathy with her honest feelings.

"Grace, you are a fool! What does a little longer credit signify to such a man as Mealbag? Or-hark ye, Grace- what does it matter if, like my betters, I, one of these days, give leg-bail for my debts, or sleep three months in a well-guarded house, commonly called a jail ?”

The colour faded from the young woman's countenance as she returned her husband's gaze; another moment, and the warm red blood rushed back to her cheek, and her fine eyes brightened with an expression that his could not encounter.

"What!" she exclaimed, vehemently, "turn rogue, Joseph ! - be pointed at as a dishonest tradesman ! cheat those who labour for their food! If anything has occurred, not brought on by your own carelessness-do not frown, I did not mean that if anything has happened, no matter how it has been brought on, to prevent your paying, and that soon, take all take everything-the bed from under us- -the gown I wear -all, all I have in the world; sell, and pay-pay to the last farthing. I can work! Oh, yes! I could beg-starve!-but I could not bear any one to call you rogue! -or our child, Joseph - our dear, dear child- -a dishonest man's son!" She clasped her boy to her bosom; and then, again looking on her husband, threw herself into his arms, and pressing her cheek, moist with tears, to his, murmured. "But you did not mean it, Joseph you could not mean it- -you never could mean that! You only said it to tease, to try me; but it was very cruel of you! Just say you did not mean it."

"What a fuss about a simple word! Why, girl, you are more silly than I took you for! Mean it! no, no! But, Grace, you need not have turned so suddenly on me, even if I did mean it. I have heard of women who would bear much more for their husband's good than that."

"For your good, Joseph !" she replied passionately: "Oh, yes! for your good I would bear anything; but it could never be for your good to have your name joined by dishonesty to dishonour. Say you did not mean it, and I will believe you-but just say it again, Joseph-just once more! Thank you. And now," she added, drawing a heavy breath, and rising from his bosom, my heart is lighter-and-may I go on ?"

"Yes."

"You will pay the baker to-morrow?"

"I cannot. The money I intended for him I have been obliged to give elsewhere."

"What, to the man who sold you the mahogany ?"

"Yes, and for other little matters: so, dear, you must put off the baker, you see.- Why, my little Abel cannot eat this bread! One of your sweet smiles will put him off; or else you must borrow the money from your father."

"I cannot do either," she replied, shaking her head mournfully. "I promised the baker; and my poor father has no money, except a small sum laid by to purchase a new great-coat and some flannel, for winter: perhaps you could not repay him before that season came. But, Joseph, listen my silk cloak-- what do I want with such finery? The glazier's wife said she would give two pounds for a cloak of the kind; so let her have it. I hope you will like me as well in a tenpenny print, particularly when you see that I have kept my word."

There is something so commanding, so holy, in virtue, that, though the

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wicked may not imitate, they cannot withhold from it their admiration. As Huntley looked upon his wife, he thought she had never appeared so lovely. Some of the affection of earlier and purer years returned warmly to his heart; and, as he kissed her, words of happier import broke from his lips-"God bless you, Grace! I am a sad scoundrel, and that's the truth." "Years rolled into eternity;" the million, indeed, heeded not their passing, but Grace Huntley had recorded them with tears. Meanwhile her husband sunk deeper and deeper in vice; yet the misery that followed schooled her still more in the ways of virtue. They are bitter," she would say, "but perhaps they are useful lessons." It was sad indeed to know that the hearts which once were united had severed -- and severed and severed, until, as with the rich man and Lazarus in the parable," there was a great gulf" between them. At first distrust, next coldness, then reproaches, ended in- but no! they did not hate each other; she could not hate him who had received her early and only love-the man to whom, at God's altar, she had sworn duty and affection. The heart she had trusted she would have given worlds to recall to virtue; and the voice which now seldom spoke but to blaspheme-how she prayed that it might again be restored to the music of former years the harmony of kindness and sweet communion! She could not hate him; and he, base and hardened as he was, could not hate her.

In less than eight years after their marriage, her little family were entirely dependent upon her for support. The workshop, filled with implements and materials for labour, had passed into other hands; and the pretty cottage, with its little flower-garden, was tenanted by a more industrious master. For months together, Joseph used to absent himself from home, under the pretext of seeking employment. So ruined was his reputation, that no one in his own neighbourhood would intrust him with work; and he was but too willing to follow the wandering bent of his disordered mind. How he was really occupied during these excursions was a profound secret even to his wife. Sometimes he returned well dressed and with plenty of money, which he would lavish foolishly, in sudden fits of affection, upon his children. On other occasions, he appeared with hardly sufficient clothes to cover him- poor, and suffering bodily and mental misery. Then, when from her earnings he was provided and fed, he would again go forth, and neither be seen nor heard of for many months.

When chid by her neighbours for the kindness with which she treated this reckless spendthrift, she would reply calmly, "He is my husband the father of my children; and, as such, can I see him want?"

From the very day that she parted with her first portion of dress, to pay the baker's bill, she had toiled unceasingly with her own hands for the benefit of her family. Mrs. Craddock could no longer say that she was unskilled in woman's craft; to the astonishment of all, in a little time she was the most exquisite needlewoman in the neighbourhood. Nothing came amiss in the way of labour. Long before daylight she was busied with her housewifery-the earliest smoke of the village was from the chimney of her neat, though plain and scantily furnished, cottage; and so punctual was she in her engagements, that "As true as Grace Huntley" became a proverb in Craythorpe. Humble yet exalted distinction ! one that all

desire so few deserve!

With increasing years, the mind of Abel Darley became more and more absent; nevertheless, though decidedly opposed to all modern innovations, (whenever, indeed, he could be made to consider the import of such things,) he still continued to perform his duty of instructing his pupils on the approved old plan that is to say, with a birch rod in the right hand, and a lesson-book in the left. Yet was the schoolmaster not prone to chastise. ment, retaining the birch rather as an emblem of authority than for use.

He had a ferule for big boys, -a fool's-cap for little ones; and lavished even more, if possible, than the indulgence usually bestowed by grandpapas on their grandchildren, upon "the child Abel," as he was wont to call his daughter's eldest son, who greatly resembled his father, not only in person, but in inind. The anxiety this resemblance caused his mother may be better imagined than described. The small cottage, which, when Abel was about twelve years old, sufficed for her dwelling, was nearly at the corner of the village churchyard, and about ten minutes' walk from her father's school-house. A small, green lane, that skirted the village, led by her door; and it was pleasant to see the merry, light-hearted boys, full of childish glee, passing along that shady path.

Her second son was a delicate and sickly child; but her girl-her Josephine, as she was named at her father's request, was the miniature resemblance of the still beautiful mother. Often had she watched, till her eyes became dim, and her heart swelled almost to bursting within her bosom, as her eldest-born led his little sister by the hand on his return from school now chasing, to give her pleasure, the gay butterfly- then hanging from the branches of the sweet hawthorn or golden laburnum that fringed the road, to gather for her the earliest and sweetest flowers. "They are so like us!" she would think," so like what we were! How well I can remember his father at his age, when first he came to the school, and used to watch over and play with me, as Abel does with Josephine!"

The increasing wilfulness and restlessness of young Abel's disposition were an additional cause of sorrow to his anxious mother. If anything could reconcile her to her husband's absence, it was the consciousness that, were he living with them, his bad example would operate but too powerfully on their eldest son. Yet one better skilled in the ways of the world, and the rules of modern education, might have envied Grace Huntley the skill she manifested in the management of her children.

"Had his mother so tutored her son, Joseph Huntley would have been a different sort of person," said the parish rector, Mr. Glasscott, one Sunday evening to his wife, after young Abel had undergone a long examination, not only in the Church Catechism, but on the great leading doctrines of Christianity.

"True, my dear," replied his lady; "but there are few mothers like Grace Huntley, teaching and practising industry in the most wonderful manner-I may say, disdaining assistance; for I have thought that her lip curled with even more pride than befitted a Christian, when Lady Purse. ful offered her a dole of meal and money last Christmas."

"It was independence, not pride. They are, in effect, so like each other, that the world confounds them; but in reality they are very different. Grace Huntley is a Christian, and a high-minded woman, whose lot has been cast in low places, whose spirit has struggled nobly through adversity - subdued, but not broken, by the trials she has encountered.'

"It is very long since her husband has been seen in the neighbourhood." "So much the better; yet I have heard his poor wife declare that it would cost her less pain to close his eyes, and perform the offices which the dead claim of the living, than to remain in the dreadful uncertainty that rankles in her heart like a rusted dagger."

"Poor woman! Has he not been suspected of crimes that the law might take hold of?"

"He has. I trust he may never be brought before me on any charge of the kind: for her sake, I should feel much grieved at performing a magis. trate's duty."

On the same evening, Grace Huntley was sitting in the seat she had occupied in her father's cottage years before; and such were the schoolmaster's abstracted habits, that it is very doubtful whether the events which had changed the lofty but cheerful girl into the reserved, and, it might be, cold-mannered woman, had been at all noted by him.

He wondered much why Joseph left his family; although, he observed, with his usual simplicity, he never expected to have seen in him a careful husband; but Grace was so patient, so uncomplaining, that he believed her to be happy, and was satisfied.

"You are not going yet, my child ?" said the old man, checking her affectionately as she rose to depart.

"I must go, father; the children, you know, are alone."

"Poor things!-you ought to have brought them with you. Ah, Grace! it is very cruel of you not to come and live entirely here-it would be so much better than moping alone."

Grace smiled sorrowfully. "If I had not a home, where he could be entirely master, to receive him, you know, father, he would never return.” "And no great matter."

"Father, for shame!- he is my husband!"

"My dear child, I beg your pardon —I forgot! You are not angry?" "No, my dear father! But it was of Abel I wished to speak he is now twelve years old. I cannot afford, on the probability of his turning out a genius, to keep him in indolence; and Mr. Greythorpe's gardener has offered to take him in spring to —-”

"Take the infant from his lessons in spring!" interrupted the old man : "Why, Grace, you are not of the sound judgment you were in former times, or you would never dream of such a thing. The boy is a prodigy – there is nothing he cannot learn. I do not despair-we must never despair of giving him such knowledge as may, in a few years, fit him, mayhap, for a college gown. Grace, Grace! you will bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, if you take the child from his studies. I watch for his step — I love his voice - I feel my own youth renewed when I look upon him. You must let him 'bide with his books until his fifteenth year, at all events; and then, if he has not accomplished wonders, make him, if you will, a hewer of wood or a drawer of water; — but you would not take from me the hope and comfort of my old age, Grace!"

"Father, believe me! Abel has no taste for books; they may constitute his pastime, but will never be his business; actual labour is the only thing for a mind like his. I cannot afford to apprentice him to a reputable trade, so let him be a husbandman - he is fond of flowers, and takes delight in curious plants: it is an innocent and sweet thing to live as a gardener, among the testimonies of God's goodness; it will employ his mind and soften his heart. I have seldom heard of one who spent his life in the pure fields, occupied in training the works of nature to perfection, who was either mean or wicked."

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"It is a gentle calling, doubtless; but there are higher ones; and the 'candle,' saith the Holy Scriptures, must not be hid under a bushel.'” "Well, well, sir, it is not yet spring; only, my dear father, do not let him idle when he is here; there is no peace, no honour, no prosperity, for the slothful."

"I will-I will make him industrious; he shall do six sums to-morrow in fractions, and repeat the multiplication-table as far as nine times, out of class, twice; moreover, he shall read the eighth and ninth chapters of Roman history, with questions, and write"

"A parcel of idle ballads on the back of his exercises," interrupted poor Grace, taking up a scrawled and blotted copy-book, and smiling at the list of employments her father marked out for her son.