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I can bear. I'll show him up in his true light; mean, cowardly bully that he is! If it were only myself it would be different, but he has ruined my mother, and I hate him! I do!" said he, aloud, stamping with his foot upon the ground," and I shouldn't care if he were hung for it! " The sound of his own

voice startled him.

And was this Philip, the meek disciple of a meek and lowly Master? It was indeed; and for awhile it seemed as though Satan had triumphed. All his evil passions were in league against him; anger, hatred, revenge, all struggled for the mastery, under the guise of righteous indignation, and a just desire to avenge his mother's wrongs. But God, in his mercy, will not let his children. be tempted above that they are able to bear; and so it was with Philip. He had received great provocation. His mother, his loved mother, had been injured almost beyond repair, and his own prospects in life blighted -and for what? Simply to gratify the bad passions of a boy whom he had never wronged. It was a severe trial, and we must not think the worse of him because the old self which remained in his heart fought a hard battle with the new self implanted by God's grace, and nearly gained the victory, but in the hour

of his weakness he received strength from above to resist the strong temptation. The sound of his own voice brought him to himself, and above the angry tumult within his breast he seemed to hear a still, small voice, whispering, "But I say unto you, Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you." Hitherto he had been walking rapidly on, not caring where he went; now he stopped, and sitting down on an old stump by the side of the path, he took out a little pocket Testament, and turned to the words. The gleam faded from his eye, and the angry look from his face, as the holy words carried conviction to his conscience. "Oh!" he said, "how wicked I have been ! I have blamed him for the very thing I was going to do myself. May God forgive me!" A tear stole down his cheek, a tear of repentance for his sin, and he knelt down in the shade of the forest trees to pray for pardon, and wisdom to direct. It was no easy decision he had to make. Ought he to conceal what he suspected, or was it his duty to make it known? Very earnestly he besought his Heavenly Father to guide him in the right way, and he turned over the pages of his little Testament to see if he could find any

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message from God's word to help him in his difficulty. Presently his eye rested on this verse in one of his favourite chapters: "Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath; for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head" (Rom. xii. 19, 20). He thought awhile, and then he decided to keep what he knew to himself. "I will never mention it : God helping me, I will keep it a secret all my life." A hollow place in a tree close at hand caught his eye. "I will put the knife in there, and if it should ever be found no one will know how it came there." He had to climb up to reach it, and the knife dropped down into the cavity. Then he turned to go home, and as he went he remembered Hardy's pale, frightened face, and how he had injured himself in saving the books. "He never could have meant to set the cottage on fire," thought Philip; "most likely the sparks were blown upon the shingles, for the wind set that way, and then the roof caught. I daresay he was afraid of being found out, and he must have been sorry, too, or he would not have risked getting burnt to save anything.

Poor fellow! I'll go and ask how his hand is by-and-by. Shall I tell him I suspect him? No, I think not; it will be kinder never to let him know. Oh Lord, help me to keep my resolution!" he inwardly prayed, "and enable me to serve Thee aright, now and always." In this softened frame, Philip returned to Lyntonville. It was as though a terrible storm had passed over his soul--the wind and the waves boisterous and contrary, and tossing the frail bark of his spiritual life to and fro, in their angry tumult; but the Saviour's voice had spoken above the tempest, saying, “Peace, be still;" and immediately there was a calm. Oh! well is it for us all if we have taken that gentle Saviour as our Guide and Helper, that we may be enabled

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so to pass the waves of this troublesome world, that finally we may come to the land of everlasting life," in the world to come.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE DAY AFTER THE FIRE.

"Conscience does make cowards of us all."

WE must now return to Hardy, whom we last saw going home with his father after the fire. As soon as he reached the house, his hand was properly bound up; his father at the same time rating him soundly for what he called his stupidity in getting burnt.

"Take care of number one; that's my maxim, lad, and you'll find it a safe one, I can tell you. But now you'd better turn in, for I should say you'd had enough of it for one night. Stay, you're cold. Come into the store, and I'll give you something to set you all to rights;" and he poured out some whisky, and made Tom drink it. It was not the first time the boy had taken spirits, but in his present excited state, it affected him greatly. He went up and threw himself on his bed, and immediately fell into a heavy sleep. It was still early when he woke; and

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