After that

He had

herself and her little babe filling one grave. William Brown became a prey to bitter remorse. loved his wife deeply in the far-off days of youth, and would have made a good husband had it not been for the drink; but now, as he looked back on the past, his conscience smote him as with a whip of scorpions. Still, there seemed to be some possibilities of good in him, and a few friends tried to their utmost to wean him from the tavern, and to lead him in a better way of life. Among these was Marian Micheau. She would not give him up. So one evening, in response to an oft-repeated invitation, William came, and seating himself at the end of one of the forms, seemed brooding over the dark past. Marian prayed for strength, and during the lesson resolved to speak a word to him, which might, by the power of the Holy Spirit, prove to be a "word in season." As she was endeavouring to apply it to the consciences of her hearers, in her timid, appealing way, she said: Poor William! I am so sorry for you. God must shut you out of His kingdom if you don't repent." With an oath the man turned and left the room; the arrow had found a lodgment. Poor girl! frightened lest the conscience-stricken man should do himself some harm-for he had frequently threatened suicide-Marian flew after him, intending to bring him back; but, as she passed rapidly down the steps, she fell, and the force of the blow struck her senseless. Kind hands took her up and carried her home tenderly, but it was long ere consciousness returned. When it did, she lay helpless upon her couch, unable to move or lift herself, from the effects of a spinal injury received in the fall.

Poor Marian! She lay for some weeks thus, before the medical man broke the sad news to her that she would never walk again! Then all the fountains of feeling seemed broken up, and she rebelled against the trial. Long and bitterly did she weep, bewailing her utter helplessness and uselessness in God's vineyard. Was this, could this be God's appointment for one who had so longed for a "dis

tinct work". '-a work which should absorb all her energies and glorify Him? This could not be the "distinct work.” He had called her to suffer; it surely meant not this. And so Marian mourned, and doubted, and struggled, finding her only refuge at the throne of heavenly grace; until at last light broke, and she realised that the trial, though bitter, was her Father's chastening.

As for William Brown, who was, humanly speaking, the cause of this accident, he suffered exceedingly in his mind. It seemed as if this affliction were about to be the means of doing for him what her words never could. His distress led him to pray; but no entreaties could prevail on him to visit Marian's sick-room. He reproached himself constantly with his sins, and never failed to accuse himself of having been the means of shortening the life of this dear girl. And although she sent him message after message, telling him of her forgiveness and inviting him to come to her sick-room, he hung back, conscience-stricken and miserable.

All this while Marian was learning the hard lessons of submission and quiet resignation. Among all the lessons learnt in the school of Christ, these are some of the hardest ; but when the sufferer had learnt them, "perfect peace" filled her soul. The promise says, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee;" and Marian proved the truth of it. Then Marian's sick-room became the most frequented spot in all the house; and parents, brothers, sisters and servants, as well as occasional visitors, learnt from the lips of the dear patient sufferer, such lessons as bore glorious fruit in years that followed. After this had continued for about a year, William Brown mustered up resolution to call upon his youthful, but now dying teacher -for dying she undoubtedly was. The spinal disease, which had developed itself, was sapping the springs of life, so that her days were numbered; but still she felt she could not die without one more parting word to the poor drunken sinner. This time he obeyed the message and came. She looked up earnestly in his face as he stood, hat in hand.

"Oh, William !" she said, "I see heaven opened for me, and close by is a corner for you. You'll come, won't you? Do, William, poor fellow; Jesus wants you." Falling upon his knees, the man sobbed aloud, and vowed to serve the Lord Christ. Amid the penitential confession of sin upon his part, arose Marian's prayer for him; and so the time wore on until he could realise pardon. The dying one was faint and worn from the earnest eagerness of the petitions and the blessed excitement attending the return of this hardened sinner from his ways of sin; but as she rejoiced in spirit, angels, too, sang the triumphant strain, "Behold, he prays!"

A few days after, Marian was going down the dark valley of the shadow of death; yet not dark was the valley to her, for Jesus had died, and in that fact lay her security. As she was slowly and painfully breathing out her life, one evening her father sat by her, endeavouring to assuage the pain and speak words of consolation from God's holy book. "Father," said she, "William Brown is saved at last. This was to be my work! In my blindness I wanted active service; but my work was to wait, to suffer, and by that means to glorify God. By thus doing I have gained my desire-even the salvation of that poor soul. I feel that God has accepted my work, and now He has come to take me home."

So passed away Marian Micheau, into "the land that is fairer than day." Poor Brown is walking in the way that will bring him there, too-won over by Marian's faith and loving prayers. Her life is like a sweet savour in the annals of H- Academy, and has been the means already of inducing more than one or two amongst us to follow her as far as she followed Christ. Some among us are striving to imitate her faith and consecration of life; striving to dedicate our youthful strength and energy to the service of that Master whom we have learnt to love. And if ever faith grows weak, and ardour seems to fail, we think of our gentle, loving, self-sacrificing Marian Micheau, and gain fresh zeal from her example.

Reader! have you yet found a "life-work ?" I mean a life-work in which you may honour the Master, and do good to poor perishing souls? If not, look about at once for it; ask of God guidance and wisdom; and then go to work in the vineyard, ere the night of death draws on, when no man can work. There is neither work nor device found in the grave, whither we all are hastening. Those who would serve the Lord-and what follower of His would not serve Him?—must arise and do it now. Many avenues of usefulness are open to earnest seekers after opportunities of doing good. Angels might well envy us, poor human creatures, these grand opportunities; for while they fly in the midst of heaven, and minister before the Majesty on high, they cannot speak the Word of Life to one poor perishing sinner, or warn one to "flee from the wrath to come." This high privilege belongs to us alone, who love the Lord, and by using it we become "co-workers with God."

But perhaps you are not yet saved yourself. In that case, your first duty is to make your own calling and election sure; to flee yourself to the refuge set before you. If you do not this, you cannot consistently point others to Jesus; for if you do, you will be like those carpenters who assisted Noah to build the ark, and then perished miserably in the waters of the flood. First see to it that you are saved yourself; then seek to do some work on the earth which shall glorify and honour Him who saved you.

E. R. P.

B

44

The Writing of God."

UT have you no writing for it ?"

"No, sir, that's the misfortune. My landlord's late father and my poor husband were such old

friends, that it was just settled between them by word of mouth that so long as we lived we should have this cottage at the same rent. Who would have thought

of old Mr. Williams dying so suddenly, and his son taking advantage of me, just for want of a word of writing ?"

But, alas! as no writing was there, poor Widow Giles had to leave her little home at a week's notice, her new landlord having raised the rent quite beyond the reach of her humble

means.

Thus does many an earthly possession depend for its security on "a word of writing." I remember seeing the documents put in evidence where a will was disputed as to its genuineness, on the score of a slight difference in one initial letter of the testator's signature from his usual style. The signature finally proved, the legatee entered into possession of 10,000l. a year. Such incidents suggest the thought, what an invaluable invention is the art of writing! What accuracy is insured by this means of communication ! Words repeated on hearsay who can fully trust? changeable by the merest accident, apt to be coloured by the slightest feeling! But only by direct dishonesty does the written. word fail to reach us, even through the medium of generations, just as it left the writer's hand.

But what are all the security, accuracy, convenience, and loving communion involved in the use of writing where the things of this passing life are concerned, compared with the benefits of our written communication from our Father in heaven? Sadly different would have been our condition regarding our eternal interests, had He ever and only spoken to us in His voice of thunder from His glorious high throne. It is an immeasurable blessing to hold in our hands the record of His way of salvation, His promises, His teaching, "written with the finger of God," and given straight from Himself to every child of man, so that none need ask his brother, "What saith the Lord?" for it is a simple question between each one and his Lord, saith the Scripture ?" And is there not strong assurance for a trembling, sin-conscious heart, in the knowledge that it was because God would have His pardoning grace, His changeless love, brought home to every wandering child of

"What