him to do it not only because I had preferred pleasure to duty, neglected the opportunity for doing good, and lost it but because the feeling, if not the words, of St. Paul pressed heavily on my heart, "When I would do good, evil is present with me."

I was still crying, when on a sudden looking up, I saw my father standing before me, and watching me with evident regret. My first impulse was to say "O papa, I was not crying about the shilling."

He beckoned to me to rise out of my bower, and said, "Then what were you crying about, my little darling?"

I tried not to sob; he led me to a garden seat and took me on his knee-then, with a great many tears I told him all that I have now, dear reader, been telling you-and ended with a passion of crying, "O papa, do teach me to be different, and to wish the same thing when I am tempted, that I do when no pleasure tempts me. Pray teach me to do good."

"My dear child, God is teaching you now."

"What, papa! when my golden opportunity is gone, and my silver opportunity has come to nothing."

"Quite true; but then you are doubly sure now. You know by ample experience, do you not-that of yourself you can do nothing?"

I was so convinced of it, that I was verging on an opposite fault to self-confidence. I was almost doubting whether any assistance that I could hope to have, would make me proof ́against temptation.

But now was my father's "golden opportunity," and he availed himself of it. Although I cannot remember his words, their influence remains to this day. Certain sensations and impressions connected with that wise and fatherly conversation return upon me often, even now. It conveyed to my mind the idea that this weakness itself was to be my strength, if it made me depend upon a stronger than myself that this changeable disposition would make more precious to me the knowledge that "with God is no variableness, neither shadow of changing."

When he ceased to speak, I said, with a sorrowful sigh, "And now, papa, there is only one penny left of all my opportunities!"

"Well, my darling," he replied, "it is possible that you may do acceptable, good even with that. Remember what our Saviour said about the cup of cold water."

"Yes," I said, "but the person who gave the cold water had nothing better to give; he had not a cup of milk, or a cup of wine, which he first wasted and threw away."

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My dear, you need not enquire into that; you might have done better: but as there is still something to be done, 'Do it with thy might."

When I was quite calm again, and almost happy, he sent me into the house to play at ball. As I passed the kitchen door, a poor old woman whom my mother used sometimes to help, turned from it, and I heard the housemaid say, "Mistress has just walked out, and I cannot say when she will be at home."

She was hobbling away when I bethought me of my penny; took it out of its bag, and pulling her by the cloak, offered it to her.

At first she did not seem to understand me, but when she saw my copper opportunity, which was as bright as sandpaper could render it, she gave me just the shadow of a smile, and taking it in her skinny hand, said, "I thank you kindly, my pretty."

"Poor old creature," said the housemaid, "that will buy her a trifle, mayhap; she and her husband are going into the workhouse to-morrow."

I passed into the house penniless, but in a subdued and humble state of mind. The lessons I had had were not without good effect; but it cannot be expected that I can remember much of the working of my mind. I only know that time did pass, that I went to bed, got up, said my lessons, and had my way for a long time, perhaps a fortnight. At the end of about that time Sophy and I went out one day for a long walk, with Matilda our nursemaid, and took a little basket with us to put flowers in and blackberries, if we should be so fortunate to find any.

We walked a long way, till Sophy was tired and became clamorous to sit down; so Matilda led us to the entrance of a little wood, and there we sat and rested on the steps of a stile. There was a cottage near at hand: presently an old woman

came out of it with a kettle in her hand, and I recognized her as the woman to whom I had given my penny. She hobbled to the edge of a little stream which flowed close to our seat, and dipped her kettle in, but did not notice us till Matilda called to her.

"How are you, Mrs. Grattan, and how's your old gentleman?"

"Thank you kindly, girl, we be pretty moderate," was the reply. "He," and she pointed with her stick to a field opposite, where several men were at work "He be among them, picking up stones-Ha! ha! he be as blithe as a boy!”

"We was all very glad up at the Grange, to hear of your good luck," said Matilda, in the loudest tones of her cheerful voice, for the old woman was rather deaf. "Our mistress was main glad I'll assure you."

"Ah, very kind on you all. How be the old gentleman?” "Quite hearty."

By this time she had reached us, set down her kettle, and taken her place beside Matilda. I was busily plaiting straw, but I listened carelessly to their conversation.

And so you got your rent paid and all,” said Matilda, turning her eager black eyes on the old woman. "What a good son Joe is to you."

"Ah that he be, dear," was the reply," that he be; wrote he did, so pretty, 'My dear mother' he says, 'do'nt you go for to think I shall ever forget how good you was to me always— for I shall not,' he says——

Matilda's eyes flashed and glistened: she took a particular interest in this young man, though I did not know that till long afterwards.

"Tell us how it all was," she said quickly."

"Why you see, dear, he was not my own; but I did as well as I could by him; and he be as fond of me like, aye fonder than he be of his father."

"Yes, I know," said Matilda.

"Well, dear-I went to Mr. T's. house" (my father's) “and I was very down at heart-very I was; for Mr. Ball, he'd been that morning, and, says he, It signifies nothing that you've lived here so long,' he says if you can't pay the rent.' And

6

I says, 'Mr. Ball, will you please to consider these weeks and weeks that my poor old man has been laid up wi' rheumatize.' 'But,' he says, 'I can put in younger, and stronger than him and besides that,' he says 'I know you owe money at the shop, over all you owe to my employer.'

"He was always a hard man," said Matilda.

"Well, dear, he says, 'It aint no use my deceiving of you, Mrs. Grattan, but I must sell you up, for,' says he, 'the money I must have, and you must go into the house; its the best place by half for such as you:' and, dear, it seemed hard, for I'll assure you, we had'nt a half-ounce of tea, nor a lump of coal in the house, for we was willing, my old man and me, to strive to the last to pay our owings, and we was living very hard."

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How much did you owe?" asked Matilda.

"Over three pounds, dear; and then the rent was four. I had'nt one half-penny in the house; I paid the baker, Thursday was a week; t'other four was for the doctor, and we was hungry and cold, we was; but, the Lord be praised, we aint now."

"Ah! Joe's a good son."

A

"As good as ever breathed, dear; but we had'nt heard from him of a long while, by reason his regiment was up the country, but you'll understand I did'nt know that till I got his letter. And so we was to be sold up, and go into the house. I fretted a deal, and then I thought I'd go and tell your missis, she be a good friend. But deary me! I owed such a world o'money; only thinks I, she'll be main sorry to hear we must go; and a body likes somebody to be sorry."

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Ah, to be sure they do," said Matilda.

"But she was out, and so I got nothing-only this child, bless her! she runs up and gives me a penny; but, deary me, thinks I, what's a penny to them as owes £7. 2s. But, thinks I, my old man and me, we won't cry together in the dark this last night. So I walked on to the town, to buy a half-penny candle of Mr. Sims at the Post-office. I was half way there from my place, and when I got into the shop, Sit you down Mrs. Grattan,' says he, for he saw I was main tired; 'I have'nt seen you of a long time.""

6

And that's true, Mr. Sims," says I, "for its little enough I

have to lay out, and the shop t'other side the turnpike be nigher."

"Well, I sat me down, may be a quarter of an hour after I'd bought my candle; and just as I was a going, in comes Mrs. Sims, and, says she, 'Is that Grattan's wife ?'”

“Aye,” says

he.

"Well," she says, "I reckon you remembered to give her that letter."

"A good thing you spoke, my dear," says he, "I should have forgot it-that I should."

"If you'll believe me, I trembled like a leaf, to think I should so near have missed it. 'Be it a letter from the Indies, says I?'” "Aye," says he, "that it is, and nothing to pay on it; and it's marked, 'to be left at the post office till called for.'"

"Well, dear, I took it home, and waited for my old man to come home, by reason I can't read, and about dusk he comes in, and we lights the candle, and my old man he read it right out, for he's a fine scholar. And there was two five pound notes inside, bless him; and says he, 'Mother, I've got made sergeant, and now I shall send to you regular.""

"Well, I've heard no better news this many a-day!" said Matilda.

6

"It was good, dear. Well, I paid the doctor, and when Mr. Ball came next day; says I, 'There's the money, sir,' and he stared. Indeed,' he says. "I am surprised, but them that pay can stay.' So you see, there's money to spend, more money, dear, when we be laid up with the rheumatize." Upon this she laughed with genuine joy, and taking up her kettle wished Matilda good afternoon, and hobbled away.

And I knew, though it had never occurred to the old woman, that all this happiness was owing to my penny! If she had not had it to spend, she would not have walked to the Postoffice; if she had not walked to the Post-office, she would not have got her son's letter-that precious letter which had saved her from misery and the workhouse.

How happy I was as we walked home; I seemed to tread on air, and yet I knew of how little value the penny really was, it was only my having been permitted to give it under such peculiar circumstances that had made it such a worthy and important coin.