declared that he would sooner die than go to the expense of buying any, and how it had suddenly come into her heart to sell the little pearl cross in order to procure it for him.

'My poor mother," said she, "loved Uncle Jabez so much. There were only those two ; and he looks so like her now that he is ill. But I would not sell it without first asking your consent."

"It is your own," replied my father; “do as you please with it."

"William," said my mother (my father's name was William), "I never thought of selling it when our poor John was so ill, and wanted so many little things."

"I am glad of it, my dear, for in that case you would not have had it now."

"Then you do not object?"

"Certainly not; and shall rejoice if it prove the means, under God, of lengthening the poor old man's life-his day of grace," added he, in a solemn tone.

"God grant it! And now I must be going, for I have a great deal to do. And I should like to get back before Uncle Jabez wakes."

"I will walk with you," said my father.

"But you must be tired, William. You have been so far to-day."

"And are you not tired?"

My mother smiled, and ran up stairs to fetch the little pearl cross, and have another look at her children; after which, she kissed us both, and went away with my father.

"WHAT a pity," said I, after a pause, "to part with that beautiful cross! I remember my mother showing it to me one day, and telling me all about the great pearl fisheries. It does seem a thousand pities."

"Not if Uncle Jabez recovers."

"Why cannot he buy wine for himself ?"

Perhaps he is not so rich as some imagine." "I should think not by the way in which he lives. But what makes you care so much about him, William ?"

"I am afraid that I do not care about him as much as I ought.

will get better."

But I do hope that he

'Well, I hope so too; and then we shall have my mother back again."

William had a higher motive for his anxiety about Uncle Jabez; but he said no more on the subject.

"What a terrible night!" exclaimed I, as the rain beat against the window, while the wind went moaning round the house, as if it wanted to be let in out of the cold. "My father cannot be back yet. I wish Mrs. Blake would come."

"It is indeed a wild night,” replied William, "I am sorry that my dear mother has to be out in it. But God will take care of her."

"Do you think so?"

"I am sure of it."

"How can you be sure of it, William ? " "Because I have asked him; and the Lord has promised, 'Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do.'"

I have often envied William the simple faith which always made him so happy and cheerful, and which we might all possess if we would only take God at his word.

That night the cross was sold, and the port wine purchased. God took care of my mother. When she reached home, Uncle Jabez was still sleeping soundly, notwithstanding the wind and rain that beat against the broken casement, and drove in the frail sheet of paper which had been fastened up to exclude them. My mother soon set all right again, as well as she

could, and having dismissed the kind neighbour to her home with many thanks, and carefully built up the fire, sat down in an arm chair by its side, and soon fell into a quiet and peaceful slumber.

The following morning, an hour or two after breakfast, and when Uncle Jabez was feeling very weak and faint, and wondering, perhaps, whether he might not be going to die after all, my mother entered the room with a smile on her face, and a glass of port wine in her hand. "Look! uncle," exclaimed she.

"Hey! What's that? Wine? Where did it come from?"

"It is a present," replied my mother. She had intended to have added, that the giver desired to remain unknown, but the old man asked no more questions.

"A present is it. How much more is there of it?"

"There are half a dozen bottles, uncle." "You had better bring them here. They will be safer."

My mother did so.

"Now, uncle," said she, on her return, "will you not drink it. It looks good."