as he would himself spend the following week at Beverton, and see to everything during Frank's

absence.

Frank, who knew well how fidgetty and particular the old gentleman was, and how greatly he disliked having to sleep in the town, knew how to appreciate this proof of his kind feeling. He spent a quiet week with his mother at Briersley-the first whole week he had spent there since he had. left his home to "become a man, and earn his own bread"—the last week he should probably ever spend in that little village, which, although of late he had lived there so little, he still looked upon as Home. Yet, though the days passed quietly, gravely, they were not mournful days.

The widow had long known that the day of separation was at hand. Neither could she have wished it deferred, when she saw how much her husband suffered on his lingering sick bed, and knew what rich joy would be his when once the slight thread that bound him to a life of suffering should be broken. And now that the day had arrived, she would overcome her own grief at seeing him no more on earth, and earnestly look forward to the meeting which would soon be theirs in the holy city from which no one shall go out any more. Even on the day of the funeral, when she and Frank, and the two children, lingered by the

grave, from which the others had gone, and kneeling on the grass she shed many tears, they were not alone tears of sorrow; with them were mingled tears of thankfulness,-thankfulness for him who had been taken from them, that there was no doubt about his eternal safety-he was gone to join the saintly throng of the redeemed, who sing the song of the Lamb in the presence of their Saviour,thankfulness, too, for him who was left to her-the good son, for whom his father had blessed God upon his deathbed, and for whom she now thanked God over and over again. In His mercy he had granted her a son who had gladdened the heart of his father, and who was now left to be the joy of his mother.

The day after the funeral Frank left Briersley, promising to return as soon as he should have prepared a home for her at Beverton. He had already fixed upon a small cottage in the immediate neighbourhood of Mr. Johnson's shop, which he knew was to be let, and, to his great delight, he found that the rent was quite within his means. The following week was spent in preparing his mother's future home, which promised to bid fair to rival Mr. Johnson's in brightness, although in point of size it could not bear comparison. Mr. Johnson himself went constantly to see how it was getting he gave Frank many useful hints respecting its arrangement, sent his own men to help him, and

on;

on the evening before Mrs. Elston was to take possession of it, as he and Frank stood together in the neat little room, the brightness of all around, and its comfortable appearance, seemed to afford very nearly as much satisfaction to Mr. Johnson as it did to Frank himself.

"Your mother will be very comfortable here, I think," he said, with an air of great satisfaction; for he felt that he had done not a little himself to secure her being so.

"I am sure she will, sir," replied Frank, as he thanked him warmly for all he had done, both for his mother and himself.

"No need to thank me,” replied Mr. Johnson. "I believe I'm a selfish old fellow, and it has been quite as much for my own sake as for the sake of any one else, that I have done my best to get you and yours settled down here. I have found in you just what I have been wanting for many a yearsome one to trust to, and depend upon, and who would enable me to go my own ways, and follow my own inclinations.”

CHAPER XXVI.

"Old joys give place to new ones; and while thus
Provision is still made for life's support,
And bountiful refreshment,-while the heart
Is cheer'd and strengthen'd for its daily task
Of duty, by accessions many and rich,
Of ever-freshening solace-still we learn
That all is here unstable.

Such comfort as Heaven gives

Let us enjoy with thankfulness, but still

Remembering that our home is not on earth,

Nor earthy the affections and the joys

Which must make glad that home-with steadfast aim
Pursue our heavenward path."

REV. J. MOULTRIE.

THE next morning was as bright a day as Frank could have wished for his mother to see the cottage in its perfection. True to his early love for flowers, and with the taste which had been so well cultivated at Fairlegh, he had procured some fresh flowers, and arranged them in the little parlour;

and when he had given the last touch to his arrangements, and one satisfied look all round, he set out to fetch his mother home,-to the home which her son's love had provided for her, which her son's industry had enabled him to provide, and which her son's presence was to enliven and cheer. Mrs. Elston's face was pale, and her look was that of one who had gone through much sorrow and fatigue, both of mind and body; but the prevailing feeling of her heart that day, as, leaning on her son's arm, she took her way towards her new home, was that of deep thankfulness. They left the green lanes of the country behind them, and had entered the town, and were just leaving the long High Street, when Frank said,-"You must stop a moment at this end, mother, for if you look down that next street you can see Mr. Johnson's shopour shop that is to be. It faces you, when you turn this corner. It is a handsome-looking place, and I'd like you to see it." So, when they came to the corner, they stopped to look. Mrs. Elston's surprise was great, for she had no idea the business presented such an imposing appearance. Her eyes were fixed upon the windows, with their rows of books and numerous prints, and she was about to express her surprise to Frank, when, looking at him, she perceived a look of intense astonishment

S