most thriving and respectable tradesmen in that part of London. It is not always the case, that temporal prosperity accompanies fidelity to duty. Heavy losses and painful sacrifices are sometimes the consequence of obedience to the Divine commandments. But even then, God's faithful servants enjoy an exceeding great reward in peace of conscience, a joyful hope, and a sense of his favour, "which is better than life." And very often, as in this case, does the promise prove true, that "Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." Invariably, and without any exception, we may say that "Godliness with contentment is great gain."

KITTY CARROLL; OR, "TO THE UTTERMOST."

PART IV.

Love is the golden chain that binds

The happy souls above;

And he's an heir of heaven that finds

His bosom glow with love.

WHEN Kitty rose to leave their room, bidding them goodnight, she found that it was with the greatest difficulty she could stand, and, but for Mary, she would have fallen to the ground. Stretching out her thin hand to Jim, she said, in a low voice,

66 I guess, neighbour, you and I shall never meet in this room again, but somehow that book of yours has done me a deal of good; I shall never forget it, or you either, master; may God bless you!"

Leaning upon Mary's shoulder, Kitty (after many stoppings to rest on the stairs) reached her garret, and sinking down exhausted on the bed, whispered,

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Neighbour, I shall never go down anymore. Kitty Carroll has taken her last walk."

"Your last walk on earth, may be," replied Mary, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she bent over Kitty; "but those who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb will walk with him in white in heaven, and I hope and trust that you and I shall be with them."

After doing her best to settle Kitty for the night, Mary returned to Jim full of sad forebodings, for the thought of the poor children, and of what would become of them, preyed upon her mind.

"If they are sent to the Union, Jim, they will be parted, and I do think it will nearly kill them, poor little creatures," said Mary.

Jim remained silent by the fire, picking out little bits of red coal and then putting them back again.

'Jim," said Mary, after watching her husband some time, "what are you thinking of?"

Jim slowly replaced the tongs by the fire side, and giving another long look at the fire, replied, "I was won dering, Mary, whether you would like to have Charley."

"Oh! Jim," cried Mary; then stopping short, she asked, "And what is to become of Nelly?"

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Why, wife, if you have Charley, Nelly must be my lass."

Mary threw her arms round Jim's body, for his neck she could not reach, and sobbed out

"I always thought you were the best-hearted man that ever lived, and now I know you to be the best of the best."

Jim looked lovingly down on the happy little woman, and then said, reverently, "I bless God for giving me the best of wives."

Mary was up early to see after Kitty Carroll; she found her dozing, her worn face plainly showing what a suffering night she had passed. Bidding Nelly dress very quietly, and carrying Charley off with her, Mary prepared a nice cup of tea, and bit of toast for Kitty's breakfast. "She must see a doctor, that she must," thought Mary, “not that any doctor can save her, but then he might give her something to do her good-something to stop her dreadful cough, and let her sleep a bit. How glad I am that Jim will let the children stay with us; we shall have to work hard, and toil and moil; but never mind that, those children will bring a blessing with them. Didn't Jim read one day, that children's angels stand and look upon God? Now I take that to be, that those blessed spirits that take care of little children live up in heaven, and that God sends them to earth sometimes, to keep the little creatures from coming to harm; for surely they never could live through what they do, if the good Lord didn't watch them and keep them night and day."

After Kitty had partaken of the tea and toast provided for her, Mary bathed her poor face and hands, and smoothed her tangled hair. Mrs. Edmonds thought it would be better at once to talk over the future with her; so sitting

down on the bed by her side, she began the subject by proposing to fetch a doctor in the course of the morning. But Kitty declared it would be of no use, for if the parish doctor came he would order her into "the house," and if they tried to move her she should die on the road.

"It won't be many days, neighbour," pleaded Kitty, "before I shall be gone, and I should like to die with the children near me; if they were to take away my Charley it would kill me outright!—no, no, my good friend, let me die here;" and she placed her thin cold hand on Mary's. "I'll be very quiet, and Nelly can do for me; and you'll come and look at me and say a word to cheer me up now and then. I've got five shillings which will keep the little ones, with their pay on Saturday, until I'm gone, the rent I paid yesterday;" and Kitty drew from under her pillow an old purse which she gave to Mary, saying, "I know you will buy what they want-I'm gone beyond wanting and when it's over, perhaps you will let them know at the Union."

Mary pressed Kitty's hand as she answered, "Certainly, Mrs. Carroll, when you are gone we'll send to the house;' but we are not going to let the children go there, the children are going to stay with us."

"What!" cried Kitty, rising up in the bed and then coughing violently from the exertion.

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They are going to be Jim's and my children, God helping us, Mrs. Carroll; but if you look like that, I won't talk to you again this long time. Mercy on us, you will be torn to pieces with that awful cough, do take a sip of water," and Mary held a cup to Kitty's lips. Kitty took a sip, and then lay back on the bed, speechless; tears trickling down her wasted cheeks, and shaking from head to foot, her large eyes following Mary as she moved about the room putting the place "straight," as she called it. When she had a little recovered, she said, "Oh! Mrs. Edmonds, I havn't words to say what I want to, but it seems to me as if the worst of death were past. Those children have come between me and God, when I tried to pray, for I could not see that it was right of a good God to take me away from the children, and leave them to the mercies of anybody; but now I know that he is good and means good; for you and your husband will teach them better than I ever could. And now, neighbour, tell me about Him who cares so much for such poor creatures as we are."

Mary again sat down on Kitty's bed, and spoke of the wonderful love that Christ had shown to poor sinners whilst on earth. Mary could not read, but she had a capital memory, and in her simple way she told of the poor woman who was a great sinner, who came behind Jesus and bathed his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hairs of her head; and that Jesus pitied her and knew how sorry she was, though she never spoke a word; and he told her that her sins were forgiven her, and bade her go in peace. Kitty listened intently, her large eyes fixed upon Mary, her hands folded meekly on her breast, and her lips quivering with emotion: at length she gasped out, "Neighbour, do you think he can save such a wretch as I am?"

"Yes," replied Mary: "the Bible says, 'He is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by him.'' "Uttermost," repeated Kitty; "what does that mean?” "I don't rightly know," said Mary, "but to me it means far beyond what we could hope, or speak, or think."

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Neighbour, I am hindering you; go down stairs now, I feel as if that uttermost is for me; I don't mind your going now, for I want to think about it; but you will be up again by-and-by."

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Certainly, Mrs. Carroll, and don't be cast down for anything, but believe in the Lamb of God who died for such sinners as you and me."

Mary returned to her own room, and after cooking some potatoes, sent them by Nelly and Charley to Jim. The children had been so long accustomed to wander about, that they could find their way anywhere in the city; Mary had therefore no fears in sending them to the quay with Jim's dinner. The children set off in high glee, for they had learned to love Jim and Mary, and Mary did a little job of washing and tidied up her rooms; once or twice she crept up to Kitty, but receiving no answer to her gentle tap at the garret door she returned to her work, hoping that Kitty might be sleeping.

Mary Edmonds was but a poor weak woman; yet what a blessing she was being made to Kitty Carroll! May not you, my reader, become a blessing, tried as you may be, to some more afflicted than yourself? Sorrow is the lot of all, because all have sinned; but increase not the sorrow of any by carelessness, or want of sympathy with them, whether it be your ministers, your employers, or your neighbours, "for we are members one of another," re

deemed by the same blood, and holding but one head, even Jesus the Son of God.

Notwithstanding Kitty's desire to the contrary, a doctor was procured, who saw her during the day: but he could do nothing for her (as she had said), he could only give her a little medicine to soothe her cough. As he followed Mary down stairs, he told her that Kitty could not last many days; he only wondered, from her present condition, that she had kept about as long as she had. This opinion decided Mary's determination to tell the minister about her sick neighbour: so without mentioning the subject to Kitty, she started for the parsonage as soon as she had given Kitty and the children their tea. It was not the usual hour for seeing the minister, but Mary had no fears on that point; she knew it was only for her to tell the servant that "Mary Edmonds" wanted to see the minister, and he would come to her immediately; for she was sure he respected her. Those who do their duty in the state to which God has called them, will command the respect of those whom God has placed above them.

A neat, tidy little body was Mrs. Edmonds, as you have no doubt guessed before this from what you have heard of her; not flounced up to her waist, and her gown dirty and pinned into the gathers, with a shabby shawl on, and a large bunch of faded flowers in her bonnet or cap. No, no! Mary always chose what would wash and wear; and in buying her clothes, she remembered it would be a long time before she might be able to get any more, and so she chose not the smartest but the most useful. Mary needed not fine clothing to set her off, and make her pleasing to Jim; she was adorned with the best of all ornaments, 60 a meek and quiet spirit," which is of great price in the sight of God and good men. Having arrived at the parsonage, Mary soon saw Mr. Elstone, and told what had brought her to his house at that time of the day. Mr. Elstone was much interested in her account of Kitty, and wished to go back with her, that he might give Kitty at once any comfort within his power; but Mary thought he had better defer his visit until the morning, as Kitty was so very weak and easily excited; and it was well she persuaded him to do so, for when she returned home, poor Kitty was so frightened at the thought of a minister seeing her in such a wretched condition and place, that Mary was obliged to promise that no one should