pictures in an old Bible, and telling them the history of Joseph and his brethren; when James entering, stroked the little girl's head, and looking earnestly at her father, said, "I am come to spend an hour with you." Rose soon came in to put the young things to bed, and they sat for some moments in silence. "I think," said James, "I think I have had this stick fifteen years. Michael. It is nothing but a bit of hazel. It is such an old friend; it was with this very switch I was cutting off the head of a nettle, when you persuaded me not to go that Sunday to Mrs. Priddle's. How many things have passed since that time. You were going to the Valley, Michael. Poor old master was alive then; you know you went away, and I got into a scrape with those gypsies. Surely God has been very good to me; I do not think I would part with this stick for the lord mayor's gold-headed cane." Michael and Esther both looked at him with love and admiration, as they listened to this recital of his feelings. 66 Your uncle is uncommon kind to me," addressing Esther, "and I am continually obliged to say it and to feel it; but I seem to stand alone in the world, and want some one to Jem Brown is not an ungrateful say, 66 man. "I have said that, my dear fellow, over and over again, and Mr. Brownrigg does not need the assurance, for he has a very good opinion of you." "Well, I am very glad of it; but you do not know what it is, Michael, to have to say, 'Thank you, thank you,' and have nothing to offer in return.' No, you need not say that, James, for you offer an honest hand and heart; and if my uncle is to let you ground, you labour for the fruit of it," said Esther. James seemed relieved. Every generous bosom will feel for Jem, and every Christian will acquit him, under that declaration of our Lord, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." But however he might feel, we must say, that Brownrigg, his benefactor, never thought of the favour he was conferring: he was concerned for Peggy's happiness as for a child of his own. But for any benefit he was conferring, it raised none but pleasurable sensations in his mind, and he did not for a moment consider James his debtor. This honest man had truly a great mind; he certainly was peculiar, but it was the peculiarity of an isolated being; in short, he was an old bachelor, had a place for every thing, and every thing in its place; and if his temper was sometimes ruffled, it arose from Y the conviction that his own plans were right, and he did not like to have them deranged. The only really blameable part of his character had been his prejudice against true religion—that was now removed, and he seemed likely to adorn the doctrine of God his Saviour. We cannot hope that he has many years to continue, but we venture to predict that his remaining course will shine brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. One sweet evidence of his sincerity was the concern he felt for others. No sooner did the glow of genuine piety warm his own bosom, no sooner did he see the gulf from which he had been delivered, but his heart yearned over all whom he knew. He thought of Mrs. Tucker, his friendly old neighbour; even Mrs. Potter shared his care;-he wished he could see her, he wished he could persuade her, poor thoughtless creature, and he felt that he had passed from death unto life, by the glowing principle of love which warmed his bosom. "This is the grace that lives and sings, About this time, nearly a fortnight after James Finch arrived at the Brow on one of his accustomed visits, he received a letter from his sister Jemima; and as we know our readers are partial to this amiable young woman, we do not scruple to give a copy: moment. "I do sadly miss you, and next to the pleasure of having you with me, will be that of hearing from you; and I write, as I promised you, the very first leisure You will be concerned to hear that Mr. Cooper has been very ill, and my dear mother is constantly with him, endeavouring all she can to relieve Mrs. Cooper from the fatigue of nursing, which is still very great. You know the sweet natural temper of all parties, and you will feel for me, when I tell you how continually my dear mother keeps dwelling on Mr. Cooper's virtues, how fit he is for heaven; and if he is not fit to go to heaven, she cannot see who should. I did venture yesterday to say, Oh, my dear mother, it costs more to redeem our souls; we must let that alone;' and she is continually saying, Pure religion and undefiled before God, is this-to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.' 'Well, if any one ever did this, Mr. Cooper has.' 6 Indeed he has, my dear mother,' was my reply. Well, child, and yet you do not seem satisfied.' I was constrained to reply, and I only said, My dear mother, I love Mr. Cooper, and am under the greatest obligations to him, for he has been most kind both to you, to James, and to every body.' Well, child.' • And yet, my dear mother, Mr. Cooper needs an atonement for his own sins; the blood of Christ can alone cleanse him.' 'Well, child, I know that; who denies that?' My dear mother, you dwelt so much. upon his good works, that I thought you fancied that they could save him.' Well, child, and do you think he could be saved if he did not do good works?' I ventured again: My dear, kind, excellent mother, do not be angry with me, but these works must be the fruit of his faith, not the foundation of his hope.' Like Nehemiah, I prayed to the God of heaven, and I said, All our righteousness are as filthy rags, we must be clothed with a better righte ousness, my dear mother.' I took the Bible out of my pocket, and I read with some emphasis that portion, the mar riage feast and the address. • Friend, how comest thou here, not having a wed ding garment?' When I came to bind him hand and foot, and cast him into outer |