my memory, and-and, in short, I have begun to think that the good fellow was in the right."

"And you consequently in the wrong?"

"Something like it: and every time I take up the Bible, I am more and more convinced of it; so convinced of it, that I-"

"That you want some one to advise you, you say. Now, you know, H-, I am not a divine, and don't pretend to be wiser than my neighbours; but your case is not an uncommon one, and the remedy is so simple that I may venture to give advice. The fact is, you are a little shaken in your nerves-slightly hypochondriacal-not an unusual thing with you young students, especially when you are a little fast as well. Now the first thing you have to do is to give up this new study of yours-you understand?"

"The Bible, you mean, doctor. But I don't see the wisdom of this. Either the Bible is true, or it is not."

"Oh, it is true, no doubt," rejoined the physician, hastily; "pray do not question my orthodoxy. What I mean is, give up reading it for a time, till your nerves get steadier. There will be time enough to take to the study again then; the Bible will be just where it is."

66

True, doctor; there is no doubt of that; but shall I be then just where I am now? If I am, as I know I am, in a wrong course, having taken a wrong turning, as my friendly rustic told me, shall I not be further off from God, and happiness, and heaven, every succeeding day?"

The physician stopped suddenly, and said abruptly, "Let me feel your pulse."

The young man complied with the request.

"Ahem! regular enough and temperate enough; not more than seventy-five. But, truly, I began to suspect, H-, that I should have a serious medical case to deal with; and, as it is, you are further gone than I thought for."

Another sad smile flickered for a moment on the counte

nance of the young man. "You can do me no good, I see, doctor," he said.

"Not if you are determined to take your own course. Follow my advice; cleanse your brain from this pernicious stuff, and you will be yourself again in a week."

And so they parted.

A few days later, the young gownsman was walking in

The

the country, sorely distressed and discouraged. terrors of God had made him afraid, and while seeing nothing before him in his spiritual prospect but a fearful looking for of judgment to come, he had failed to perceive the refuge set before the convinced sinner in the gospel.

Presently he heard a childish voice carolling a simple strain; and looking before him, he noticed a little girl, with a school-bag in her hand, which she swung to and fro as she sang. H was fond of children; and anything being welcome which would divert his mind from the thoughts which oppressed it, he hastened on, and walked by her side.

H. So, you are returning from school, little maid, I

suppose.

Child. Yes, sir.

H. You like going to school, I dare say.

Child. Pretty well, sir.

H. Have you far to go?

Child. No, sir; only about a mile.

H. A mile! that is a long way for a little girl, is it not?"

Child. I don't mind it, sir.

H. And do you always go alone?

Child. I do now, sir. I did not use to; my brother used to go with me.

H. And why does he not go with you now ?

Child (eyes rapidly filling with tears). He can't, you know, sir, because he's dead, sir; he died last winter.

H. (compassionately). Poor child! I did not know that, or I would not have asked the question. You were sorry to lose your brother, I am sure.

Child. Oh yes, sir; but then I ought not to be so very sorry, because he is gone to heaven, you know.

H. Ah, that makes all the difference. If you think that, I do not wonder at your singing as you go along. What were you singing just now, before I came up with you?

Child. Only a hymn, sir. I dare say you know it.

H. (smiling). I rather doubt it. What is the hymn? Child. One I learnt at school, sir.

How does it

H. Would you mind repeating it? I heard a word or two; but I could not catch the sense. begin?

path?

Child (repeating the next verse) :—

"It leads straight through this world of sin,
And dangers must be passed;

But those who boldly walk therein,

Will get to heaven at last."

H. (musing). That is not quite an answer to my question; but it is a very good one. But, my little maid, suppose you and I were travellers in this path, and should happen to take a wrong turning, and so get out of it, what Imust we do then?

Child. I think you should tell me, sir; for you are the oldest, you know.

H. True. I should tell you; but I cannot, you see; so I wish you to tell me, if you can.

Child. I think I can, sir, because my teacher told me. H. Well, what did she tell you?

Child. That Jesus Christ came into the world to seek and to save them that were lost, sir.

H. And you think, then, that Jesus Christ could lead us back again out of a wrong turning, and put us in the right way to God, and happiness, and heaven?

Child (pondering a little). Yes, sir; I am almost sure he could, because, you know, he is the way; he says so himself.

H. You are wiser than I, little one; and your logic puts mine to shame.

Child. I don't know what you mean, sir.

H. I mean nothing unkind, be sure of that. But supposing we were a long, long distance out of the path your hymn tells us about, perhaps Jesus Christ would not care to seek us and bring us back again?

Child. I think he would, sir.

H. What makes you think so?

Child. Why, sir, it is what he came into the world for,

isn't it? And he says in the Bible, that he won't cast out any that come to God by him.

H. You seem to know a great deal, my child; how is this?

Child. Indeed, sir, I do not think I know much; only I used to read the Bible very often to my brother, when he was so ill that he could not read it himself; and—

H. And now you have left off reading it, I suppose?
Child. No, sir.

H. Does it not make you very dull?

Child. The Bible, sir! Oh, no.

H. But a wise man advised me a few days ago to give up reading the Bible. Was that good advice?

Child. Oh, sir, I would not give up reading the Bible, if I were you.

H. Why not?

Child. Because it tells us of Jesus Christ, and the way to heaven, sir. And, if you please, sir, this is where I live. H. What! heaven? Oh, I see; you mean this cottage. Well, I hope you will keep in the way to heaven, and live there by-and-bye. Do you know you have done me a great deal of good?

Child. Have I, sir?

H. You have, indeed. I cannot tell you how much. I must say good-bye, now; but I shall think of all you have been telling me.

And so the student went away, and the child entered her home, wondering, perhaps, who the gentleman could be who had spoken so freely to her; but little deeming of the effect her few simple words had produced on his mind.

Richard Rose was working in his garden one bright summer's evening, when a shadow fell upon the ground before him, and, looking up, he saw a stranger at the garden gate, yet not so much a stranger as that his face was quite unfamiliar to his memory.

"Your servant, sir," said Richard, ceasing from his employment. "A nice fine evening, sir."

66

Very. You do not remember me, I see," replied the stranger.

"I cannot say that I do, sir."

when he

"You may recollect a traveller whom you befriended some time ago, and put into the road to Cwas going wrong?" said the stranger.

66

Surely, sir, surely; and you are that gentleman. I can see plainly now, though I did not know you at first." "No wonder: I am more altered than you are, I have no doubt; for I should have known you again if I had met with you anywhere."

66

Well, sir, I am pleased to see you. Won't you come in and taste my home fare again ?"

"To be sure I will; for I have travelled a good distance to have a chat with you."

"I am pleased to hear you say so, sir," said Richard, leading the way into his cottage; "for I have been afraid sometimes that I was over-bold with you, and so gave offence, though I can truly say I did not mean it."

66

No, you did not mean it," rejoined Mr. H-, seating himself; "but-well, never mind what I thought and felt then; but you remember how it was I had occasion to trouble you?"

"Surely, sir, yes; it was all on account of that wrong turning you took; not that it was any trouble to me to set you right, sir."

"No, I am sure it did not trouble you. But about that wrong turning: do you know that it was the right turning after all ?"

"Sir !" said Richard Rose, "I can't see how you can make that out, any how."

66

Let me make it out for you, then," said the visitor : and forthwith he explained how the few words spoken in weakness and timidity had been the means of rousing him to a sense of his alienation and far-off wanderings from God, and happiness, and heaven; and how, in the course of Divine providence, and by the almighty grace of God, he had been led, after many sore struggles and conflicts, to know the Lord Jesus Christ as the way, the truth, and the life. "And now," added he, " you know what reason I have for saying that the wrong turning was the right turning after all.”

"It's the Lord's doing, sir; his name be praised for his great mercy," exclaimed Richard Rose, his countenance beaming with joy.

THE FOLDED PAPER.

Ir was a gloomy winter's day in the month of February. A keen and protracted frost had covered the ponds with