doubt the mother's anxiety for her infant had been painful and severe in the extreme, so we may conceive that this joyful circumstance of the deliverance of her child by the daughter of Pharaoh would amply atone for all her suffering previously endured.

In conclusion, therefore, we may observe, that from all we know of the Lord's dealings with regard to this world we have the strongest confirmation to the correctness of the assertion made by the apostle; and did we permit this one grand truth of the love of God for His people to take full possession of our hearts, we should be far happier than we are."

CHAPTER XI.

THE FRENCH POLISHER'S HISTORY.

"UNTIL the dawning of that brighter day, when those who now see through a glass darkly shall see 'face to face,' when those who know and who prophesy in part shall know 'even as they are known,' until the day when that which is in part shall be done away to make room for the glorious advent of the perfect, this earth will continue to present, alike to the learned and unlettered, paradoxes and contrasts which might well-nigh appal the heart of the strongest. There is so much suffering for the presence of which we cannot account; so many bitter tears, so much lamentation from the feeble eyes and voices of beings whose whole life seems but one scene of misery—while in other quarters the treasures of the earth are poured forth with a lavish profusion, of which we are as little able to understand the reason, that at times we are almost tempted to doubt the wisdom and mercy which govern this world and to forget for a moment that this is not 'the end.""-Mrs. Stephen's (American) New Monthly.

"Do you mean to say they sold the very bed from under her and the child?"

66

'It is the truth, I can assure you," said the French polisher.

"How long had she been confined?"

"Was it much you owed the man?"

"No: not much and I told him I would pay him if he would wait a little; No: he said, he must have the money then; and I would have paid him then gladly enough if I had passed as I expected;

but not having passed, of course I wanted every

penny I had got."

"Was all the furniture yours ?"

"Yes such as it was."

"Where did you get it from?"

“I took it of the man who occupied the house when he went away. When I came I couldn't get suitable lodgings for a married couple; I therefore rented the house and took the furniture as it stood, but I paid the full price for it."

"When do think of leaving?"

you

"Directly my wife gets a letter from her motherwe are expecting one to-morrow morning."

"You'll think me selfish perhaps, but one reason why I asked you to spend the evening with me was, that I might get you to favor me with a little of your past history: as I heard you have not had a very happy time of it before you came here."

"That's very true; my life has not been a very comfortable one at present. But there is not much in it, I am afraid, that will prove very interesting; still as you wish to hear something of it, I don't mind relating a few particulars. To begin then, I should tell you that my father was a French polisher, and my grandfather was a French polisher, my grandfather's father was a French polisher; so you see we have been a family of French polishers. I have no brothers or sisters. My father lived for many years in Norwich, and he died there; my

mother had been dead several years before. before. After his death, an upholsterer for whom my father had worked, offered to take me as an apprentice. I therefore went to him, but my position was more that of an errand lad than an apprentice. I stopped with him three years, and then I went to London. I walked nearly the whole of the way, but sometimes I got a lift. Of a night I slept mostly under a shed or a barn, once or twice however I put up at a small inn. When I arrived in London, I had not more than four shillings in my pocket. My first night I passed in St. James's Park, on one of the benches. Never shall I forget that night. It was very cold, and it rained, too, very hard. My boots which were full of holes were soaked through with wet, and my feet so cold, that in spite of my weariness and fatigue— I had walked the whole day and had had nothing to eat since the early morning but a penny roll—I had the greatest difficulty in sleeping; and when I did get into an uneasy slumber, I was awoke by a policeman, who told me not to be sleeping there in the rain, but to go home. Home indeed! Oh! how that word jarred upon my feelings. Would to heaven I had had a home! If all those who are well housed and well fed and in the possession of a comfortable home did but realize the misery of those who are in extreme poverty, they would I think do their utmost privately to relieve their sufferings, and publicly to assist and support those noble institutions established

for that purpose. Many there were in that park besides myself-men and women, old and youngwithout shelter for their heads, without bread to eat, with no bed to lie on, and with but scanty clothing to resist the inclemency of the season. As it was the case then, so is it now, and not only with regard to this particular park, but with regard to all the London parks. I well remember a circumstance that took place one night. It was about the fourth night of my arrival. I was sitting at the end of one of the benches, I had been there perhaps a couple of hours, when a man came up with a dog. First of all he made a bed for his dog in the middle of the seat with a sort of knapsack he had, he then took possestion of the other corner, stretched his legs out at full length, and settled himself for the night: the dog was thus located between his master and myself. From the little conversation I had with him, I was informed that he had that day come up from the country, that he had walked a good many miles, and that he and his dog were tired. This man soon fell into a deep sleep, but had not slept long before he was aroused-I was pondering upon my miserable condition, and earnestly hoping I might get employment in the morning, when a person came to the bench and claimed a seat. Put that dog off,' said he, the ground is good enough for that, I should think.' I told him it was not my dog, but belonged to the sleeper. 'Holoo,' said he, as he seized the