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The mother knew, and saw, and felt, what she had done; that she had shaken his strong resolve and noble spirit, taken away his self-control, tempted him to wrong. That fond, selfish love had led her away from the right to save him, and she reproached herself bitterly. She could give no comfort; what could she do, but wait wearily and sadly while he lay there, so bowed and stricken down, and listen to the sobs that seemed to come from the bottom of his heart. But he rose at length, and her quick ear heard him murmur: So young-30 young! And yet," was added in a firmer tone, "it must be so." He approached her, and said, in a voice that trembled but little : Mother, you would not have me do this base thing?—you would not have me false to my religion? Oh no, no! I had made up my mind—as then, so now. They told me a day longer would be given for determination; that to-day they would return again; and then, what I resolved upon, by that must I abide. When I heard the key in the lock, and a voice by the door, I thought they were at hand; and then was ready with my answer."

"And that was?

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"That as I had lived, so would I die, and hold fast to the faith in which I believed and trusted." There was silence. And now?" in a scarcely audible whisper. His hands were strained together, his eyes cast upward. "And now, Heaven help me and you, my mother! for I can say no other thing.

Silence again. "It is right," said the trembling mother, after a long pause-"aye, it is well! Faith and honour, the first thingslife and happiness the second;-I cannot wish it otherwise. Thou art right, beloved, and I was very wrong. Child of my heart, thou hast chosen the good part that shall not be taken from thee: and oh hold to it now: be firm: thou wilt not forsake the right, I know."

Solemnly he answered, "Thou hast taught me the right; and I forsake it not now, even though I die for it."

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Then is thy religion safe in thine own keeping? May I trust thee, dost thou not fear to die for the faith, Robert?" The latter

part of the question was spoken hardly above the breath.

-a

He stood up before her-noble, erect-in the pride of youth and beauty-exulting, triumphant, dauntless, brave. There was no wavering, no hesitation; but a light in his dark eye, and a smile on his proud lip that illumined his face as with a sunbeam,bright, almost unearthly light spreading over his features and lighting them up, as he stood in that fell spot of evil. His eye wavered not, nor did his lip quiver, as he raised that fettered hand before him, and pointed to the dusky corner of the cell near where

she sat gazing upon him. And the mother's eye followed the movement; and as she caught the outlines of the dread engine of torture, her head fell upon her hands, a shudder ran through her frame, and she could only moan forth the words, "O my boy, my boy.' She knew his fate now, only but too well. O heaven, have

O the tone of those sad words! She lifted her head, and gazed at him with tearless eyes, but spoke not again. He had turned away-his arm was resting on the rough stone wall, his head bowed down upon it, and there was the low sound of a stifled sob in that prison cell.

He stood again before her; he dashed his hand across his eyes, subdued the quiver of his lip, and answered those passionate words. "It is nothing but the pain of leaving you, mother-of seeing your grief-O, mother, inother! do not shake my determination-uphold me, strengthen me; but do not grieve for me." And he laid his chained hand upon her knee, and looked imploringly into her face as those beseeching words were spoken; and she clasped that hand with both her own, and bowed her head upon them, and in another minute the struggle was over the noble Christian's spirit had triumphed over the mother's sorrow.

She raised her now steady eyes to his, and as they met them gazing upon her, so deeply, so wearily, so sorrowfully, they faltered not, and she knew that the victory was gained. They looked into each other's eyes, they read the depths of each other's hearts: they felt now, that earthly pain was past, that mortal weakness had departed, and they were comforted. Fear not for me," said the noble boy, "I will never forsake the faith you have taught me, mother. Do they think that the faith of years can be thrown off like a gar ment? or that belief can change like the seasons? Fools and blinds! let them try and see, and then at length their eyes shall be opened, and they shall see their folly and their wickedness. No, no! trust me, and I will never bring you to shame. I can yield my into their hands, but my faith, never! Trust me, mother, dear mother."

I do trust thee," she said in a low, but steady voice. "Now I shall die happy," he answered.

She involuntarily glanced to the corner of the vault.
He drew himself up

bright beam

breath

once more his eyes lighted with a proud once more the same exulting, yet mournful, smile curled his lip-once more he stood more than human in the light

of his triumphant face. The heavy chain clanked as he stretched forth his hand, and yet there was triumph in his tone as he spoke to the noble woman who sat before him, calm, composed, resigned. 'And if it be so, mother?"

There was silence.

"You will trust me still?"

"Thou art my own, my own! and into God's hands I resign thee, my precious boy, and may He help thee!" she exclaimed, as she gazed upon that noble face, radiant in beauty and spirit-given light, from whose dark eyes beamed that spirit so soon to return to the God who gave it, and about whose mouth played that mournful, beautiful smile. If He deems thee worthy to suffer for righteousness' sake, I can but say: Thy will be done," and resign thee, Robert, my boy. I trust thee. Oh, how well?" 'Mother, Heaven bless you!"

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Is not He the God of the

He will bless you, my son, my own. widow and the fatherless? and will not He succour the brave in spirit and the noble in heart, when they cry unto Him? Does not that holy book, for the knowledge of which I see thee here in prison say: Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake? And again: "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake." Put thy trust in the Lord, wait patiently for Him, and He shall deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Him. O trust in Him, He is thy help and thy shield-and then fear nothing upon this evil earth, my boy, my noble boy!"

"Let us pray for strength, mother."

He knelt at her side on the cold hard stone, his clasped hands rested on her knee, and the heavy links of steel fell over the soft white garment beneath, as with uplifted eyes and fervent words he poured forth his soul to God, and prayed for that strength which should lead him through all dangers into life everlasting. Father, keep her whom I leave behind in this valley of tears; shelter her, protect her when I am gone, and lead her in thy grace to joy eternal, everlasting, where thou shalt wipe away all tears from our eyes, and there shall be no more sorrow, nor crying, for the former things will have passed away. Keep her, protect her, for she will soon be alone in the world. Let thy guardian wings overshadow, and the light of thy countenance be around her, till she shall fall asleep in Jesus, and join the assembly of the just made perfect, where grief cannot come, nor sorrow enter ever more. She hath laid up her treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal—and shall she not find them again? And now, once again, I pray for strength

and courage, that I may fear not them who kill the body, but have no power over the soul to destroy. Help me, O Father, and I am strong and fear nothing. Thus much would I ask ;-and now may Heaven have mercy on my soul !"

And a low voice answered "Amen."

He bowed his head upon his clasped hands, and a trembling hand was laid upon his head-but the voice came not yet-0 mercy!

Low, very low, but steady came these words at last, and they fell upon the heart of the listener like balm. "May God in Heaven look down upon thee, and bless thee, and give thee strength to overcome temptation, my boy; and may we meet again where the hand of man shall part us no more."

There was a long, long silence.

The mother sat there, her child kneeling at her side, her hand resting on the dark locks of his hair, his face hidden on her knee, his hands clasped fast as though still he prayed." And around them rose the dark walls of the dim vault, and over her feet lay the links of the chain that bound her first born, and the damp air was around them, and the faint pale light upon the walls-and yet the brightness of God was upon them, and his glory shone round about them-and they were not afraid. A heavy falling of bolts and bars-a key in the lock-bolts shot back-the door opening. creaking, and groaning-a hoarse voice calling to her to leave the prisoner, and come away,-this broke the silence that brooded over them, she must go-she must.

The boy started to his feet as he heard the opening of the door. He knew that the hour of parting was come from all he loved on earth; and he turned and looked upon his mother's face-so calm, so very, very pale! but "resolute and still," she took his handshe wrung it once, twice, thrice-their lips met in one long last kiss-and she tore herself away, and rushed towards the door.

Farewell, my own, my own. We shall meet again in heaven!" And as the heavy door closed after her dim white figure, the rough jailor caught the words: "O God, O Father, strengthen him, have mercy," and the swift form passed down the long corridor, and flitted from his sight into the busy streets of the city, and was gone like a floating white cloud,, which leaves no trace where it has been.

They never met again-no, never upon this earth. But ere long the kindly Angel of Death laid his gentle hand upon her weary. head, and bore the trusting Christian spirit to rejoin the loved ones who had gone before, to that home, "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."

THE SUNDAY SCHOLAR.

A TRUE TALE.

"Он Polly, Polly, what have you been doing all this morning? Here are Johnnie's socks not mended, and your father's shirt with the buttons all off, and to-morrow's Sunday, and you know how angry he'll be if it's not ready to put on in the morning; and there's my cap not done up yet! I never saw such an idle girl as you are," continued Mary's mother, turning over the clean linen which was laid neatly together on the table, to be got ready for Sunday.

"I'll come in a minute, mother," answered the little girl; "I am only just finishing the patch in Johnnie's jacket, ready for school. I thought I had best clean up the kitchen before I sat down to sew. I shall get them all done before I go to bed, mother."

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Well, make haste," said her mother, the tone of her voice a little softened by Mary's gentle answer, and by her own consciousness of her injustice in calling her little daughter idle.

It was Saturday night, and Mary had been at work from early morning, scrubbing and cleaning and helping everybody to get ready for Sunday. She had taken her father's Sunday clothes out of the drawer and brushed them, and laid them ready for him to put on the next morning; and Johnnie's best cap and blue striped Sunday trousers and clean shirt were laid on the chair beside his little bed. Every now and then she looked into her hymn-book which lay open in the pleasant window, and by degrees she learned all the verses which she was to say next day, and she sang them one after another as she went about her work. But busy as she had been, she could always find a minute to stop and listen to her little brother's stories, or to help him in his play; and when, after she had just been polishing the bright kettle, the little fellow got hold of it unseen, and, carrying it off into the garden covered it all over with dirt, she only said, "Oh Johnnie, you should not have done so, dear! I shall have to clean it all over again." Johnnie loved his sister dearly, and his arms were round her neck in a minute. "I cannot help mother so much, you know, if you make me do my work twice over," said his sister, kissing him. Johnnie resolved in his mind never to do anything that could trouble Mary any more; and Mary, returning to her work, got everything done before tea time, and then with smoothed hair and clean-washed hands, she sat down to her sewing. Johnnie got his stool and set it beside her, and not a word was spoken while he learnt the last verse of his hymn for Sunday. At last he jumped up with great glee. "I know it all-I know it all; so now you'll sing it to me, Polly, won't you?