in God's hands, every one of us, and he does wi' us as he thinks fit, an he can make the least and the worst of what people call misfortins, and what I call misfortins sometimes, turn out for our good; an he can bring the greatest success to nothing."

Kidd Weldon said this in a grave, serious tone, as if he were speaking from his better nature upon the most solemn and weighty of themes, and as if he were speaking also from his own deep experience. He went on,

"Don't say as ye're indebted to me, it's to One as is higher and wiser than me that ye'r indebted. I couldn't ha found you. But the Lord has led me to you. Aint there a special promise for the orphans? Didn't you come to Lunnun to try to make your way in the world, and didn't a widder's heart go with you, and didn't a widder's prayers rise up to Heaven for you? And hasn't Him as is the husband of the widder, and the father of the fatherless been a fencin' you round, and a leadin' you on, and a openin' the way before you? Now you're fit for a good situation, an have proved steady, an sober, an industrious, an have had what I call rough handlin' in the streets, an rough handlin' in the shop an are ready,-isn't He a overrulin' things for you, an a preparin' the way that you may walk in it? It has seemed to me lately, an I've thought a good deal of these things as I've steered my barge on the element, that it is wi' the most favoured of God's child'n now as it was in the times as the Bible tells us about, we have to go up an down, up an down, in the wilderness a good while, an put up wi' a good many things as isn't pleasant, an have what I call rough handlin', and we find as things we trust in fail us, an our great hope dies, as Moses did, an then we go straight into Canaan at once, an we feel that it's a clean providence that is a takin' us, the Lord alone is a leadin' us, an there is no one else with Him. But come, get on with your breakfast, and let us be off."

In about half an hour we were on our way to Ledbury, Dale, and Co's, Whitechapel. My heart beat flurriedly as we crossed the road opposite the shop, and could see Mr. P. Clifton coming to the door and looking intently at me, as if he recognized his runaway servant. My protector and friend was a strong, heavy-built, muscular man, and could fairly have matched three or four Peter Clifton's, so I knew I had nothing to fear from force; but I began to

suspect, as I saw the fierce and sullen anger that gathered on the face of my relative and master, that another and more furious storm was ready to burst upon my head. When we entered the shop, to my great surprise, Mr. Peter said nothing; but half in doubt as to who Kidd Weldon could be, and what was the real nature of his errand, and half in fear perhaps from that strong frame, and the accompanying strong will, and also from those keen bright eyes that were at once fixed upon him, he waited until the object of the visit had been explained.

"I'm not accustomed to be dictated to in matters of business by any one," said Mr. Peter, quite as sharply, but not quite so curtly as usual; passion made him more human and less after his ideal of an automatical man of business; "I know nothing of you, and can have nothing to say to you if you come to interfere and dictate to me about one over whom, by my relationship, I have naturally authority and power. As to you Claude-did intend to prosecute you-left the premises like a burglar at midnight-window of the show-room open all night-but it's not worth while. Would have made a tradesman of you put you in the way to get your fortunebut books, Claude, books will beggar you as they beggared your father. By all means go, if you can't stay with me and fall in with business ways; get employment under a master who will let you do as you like but mind, Claude, you are missing your chance-you are missing your chance-and I'm sorry for you."

As soon as he had done speaking, Kidd Weldon saw that it would be of no use attempting to say more to one who treated an honest boatman 80 contemptuously, and wishing Mr. Peter

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a very good morning" we left the shop. I was glad enough to get off the premises altogether, for when I perceived how patiently Mr. Peter listened while Kidd Weldon told him his business, and when I heard Mr. Peter talk of prosecution, I grew afraid that somehow I might not be able to get off at present.

"He seems to ha' no notion of anything except goods and bank notes," said my honest hearted friend as we came away. "He thinks neither time, nor brains, nor soul's of any use if they aint worked up into chairs and tables, and then turned into gold. I could make as good a man as he is any day out of chips, bank notes, and buckram."

We found Mr. Stirling, upon whom

but I've not told you all about it. When poor Job died, an he died soon after I first saw you, he suffered very much, an was very wretched in his mind, because he had not led a better life. He told me he had all along known better, but he had never acted up to his knowledge, an that made his case worse. He said he bad sinned against light an knowledge, an had grieved the good Spirit, an drowned good thoughts in drink, an neglected his duty to himself and his family, an been a very reprobate, an there was no hope for him. He had spoke about the rights of man, an the laws of nature, all the while he was forgettin' the rights of his wife an child'n, and breaking the laws of God; an he should be measured by the measure he had meted out to others, an judged by the judgment he had passed upon others, an he couldn't stand before God's bar. He said as he wasn't fit to die, an he felt as if he couldn't die. A good man, a Methodist, came to see him, an prayed by his bedside, an talked an read to him about the Saviour as was able to save to the uttermost, but it was a no use. When he was gone, poor Job was worse than ever, an cried out as he was lost, an it was too late, an the death that never dies was a layin' hold upon him, an the fires of hell a ragin' in his soul. His shrieks an groans were awful; I couldn't get 'em out of my head for weeks, an the're not out yet; an his wrestlin' an agony was such as I never saw the like of. I was miserable for days after, for I felt I might come to such a end as I wasn't, though a different man, a bit more fit to die. But the devil came an tempted me, an made me easier again. He said to me, in his whisperin' way, 'yer honest, aint ye? Ye pay yer way, don't you? Ye don't do anybody any harm, do ye? Ye can wish everybody well, can't ye? What more do ye want then? An so I began to trust in dead works again, thinkin' as it would be all right at last. But the Lord wouldn't let me go in that way. Sittin' in my boat one day, I heard a noise as if somebody was a preachin', an I got out an went up the bank, and in a field close by I saw a great crowd of people, an a man talkin' to 'em. I felt as if I must go an hear; an I'm thankful to God I did. He was a preachin' about salvation, the man was, an he said we had all sinned, all of us, sinned much, an we could be saved only in one wayby faith in Him as loved us, an gave himself for us, an was able to redeem us from all sin. Good works wont save

you now, any more than bein' honest to day, will keep you out o' prison for bein' a thief yesterday, or any more than payin' for things as ye have 'em this week will wipe out the old debts as you've been runnin' up for months. An then he told us of what Christ had gone through to cancel the debt, an how much he loved us all, bad as we had been, and how free an wide his mercy was, an how poor heart-broken sinners were never sent empty away when they came to Him, but were filled with heavenly gifts of mercy and love. An as he went on I could bear it no longer, the tears rolled down my cheeks, an my heart was melted within me. I went back to my boat, but the words about the Saviour wouldn't leave me, an I got a New Testament an read it, an read it, an prayed over it, and wept over it, an light came to me, an a sweet peace and comfort filled my soul, an I thought the Lord gave me this as a sure token that I was His. I aint been like the same man since."

My conscience smote me as he spoke. The rude boatman with all his disadvantages was a better Christian than I was. He saw I was moved, and he said no more till just as he was going away. When I shook hands with him, he held my hand firmly in his and said; "You'll think about what I've been a speakin' of, wont ye? The preacher as I heard is now in Lunnun, I suppose; will you go with me to his meeting-house to-morrow?" Of course I promised him I should be most happy so to do.

The meeting-house to which we went on the following day, was a plain and old fashioned edifice, and hid its head modestly among more lofty buildings half way down a narrow, dingy lane in Whitechapel. An air of antiquity pervaded the place. There was an old oaken pulpit there with a large and lofty sounding board over it of the same substance. The pews were some of them square, and some of them triangular, and some of them oblong, but all odd looking, and so deep and so high you seemed buried in them, and could scarcely see over the tops at all without standing up on the seats. There was a heavy lumbering gallery over the entrance with a clock on its polished oaken front, the face of which looked as old and wrinkled as the face of Father Time himself, who stood upon the summit of the dial, with his scythe over his shoulder, and his hour glass in his hand, a calm and silent monitor to preacher and people. The walls were covered with

missed from my post, to make way for the son and heir of the new proprietor. Mr. Stirling grieved as much as I did that the circumstances which made it advisable, and even necessary for him to dispose of his business, would once more launch me upon the wide world; and he showed his regard for me by doing his best to obtain me a lucrative and responsible situation in the establishment of his friends, "Torbay and Torbay,"

who since the renewal of the charter of the East. India Company in 1793, had traded on their own account direct with Hindostan. His efforts were successful; and it was on a confidential mission to their agent in Calcutta, that I was expecting to go when I left London for Guysmore, whither a few chapters ago I led my reader, and to which place in my next I shall return.

TALES OF THE MARTYRS OF THE FIRST Two CENTURIES. BY REV. B. H. COWPER. London: The Book Society,

89, Paternoster Row.

A pithy and well digested account of the martyrs of the first two centuries. Three kinds of martyrs are mentioned. 1st, Those who are such in will and in deed, as Stephen, who cheerfully laid down his life for Christ. 2nd, Those who were martyrs in will but not in deed, like John the Apostle, who exposed himself to peril of death, but after all, died in a natural manner. 3rd, Those who were martyrs in deed, but not in will, as the children slain by Herod. For two reasons only those of the first two centuries are noticed. The author wishes to illustrate the constancy and faith of the first Christians, and he does not purpose anything more than to introduce the reader to the history of that long line of men whose sufferings are memorable in the church. Brief accounts are given of the apostles, and more detailed narratives of the martyrdom of four celebrated fathers, Ignatius, Polycarp, Justin Martyr, and Irenæus. Besides these, we have the story of Symphorina and her seven sons; of Felicitas and her seven sons; of the persecutions at Lyons and Vienne, and others. We give one quotation Attalus, among other Christians at Lyons, was destined for the amphitheatre, and a special day was set apart for this public exhibition of pagan cruelty. Maturus and Sanctus had perished. Attalus was called for by the assembled crowd "He was a man excellent anke by birth and character. He came into the arena with great cheerfulness. They began by leading him round the amphitheatre, with a small banner carried before him, inscribed in letters of blood, in the Latin language, -HIC EST ATTALVS CHRISTIA NUS, This is Attilus the Christian:' The impatient throng clamoured loudly or his death, but it having reached the

ears of the governor that he was a Roman he, and some others similarly circumstanced, were ordered back to prison, until further instructions in regard to them had been received from the emperor. The delay which ensued was profitable both to themselves and others. Not a few dead and dying members of the church were revived by those who were living, and such as had fallen were greatly helped by those who were faithful, so that some even desired another opportunity of confessing Christ. At length. the reply of Cæsar arrived; it ordained that those who confessed Christ should be at once put to death, but that those who renounced him should be set free." Just at this season of the year, the commencement of August, there was an annual fair at Lyons, and many people were gathered together. The Christians were again brought forth, and questioned. Those who confessed Christ were beheaded, if Roman citizens: if they were not, were thrown to wild beasts. Nearly every one was faithful. "While the examination was proceeding, one Alexander, a physician, a native of Phrygia, and well known for his excellence of character, was detected encouraging by signs those who were before the judge. On him, therefore, was laid the blame of their constancy; an outcry was raised, and he was seized and brought before the gov ernor. 'Who, and what are you?' said the governor. I am a Christian,' said Alexander. So, without further ceremony, he was condemned to the wild beasts. The next day he was brought up again with Attalus, and to gratify the populace, the president had decided to expose him to the lions. They both endured all the customary tortures, and were then devoured. Alexander neither spoke nor groaned, but Attalus exhorted the people even from the dreadful: iron: chain, heated red-hot."