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screens and scrap books, sent to the address below. Her work is now for the Home Missions, which greatly need help

The scrap books vary from 38. to 10s. or 12s. The hand screens are half-aguinea a pair.

Address, 0. B., Old Place, Whyhe, Chichester.

Artist,” in exchange for two years, (1873, 1874,) of the Churchman's Companion, unbound, and “Dames of High Estate," by Miss Yonge ?-Yours, &c., M. STURLEY, Burnham Overy, Norfolk.




JULIA DAY, Associate Mission Sister of the Holy Name, would be thankful for any sort of pieces for the children belonging to S. Peter's, Vauxhall, to make up into quilts, bags, &c.-Address, 141, Upper Kennington Lane, S.E.

Mrs. C. SMYTH would be glad to correspond with any one having secondhand copies for disposal, of the undermentioned or other books suitable for a parish lending library, in fairly good condition:-“The Pigeon Pie," "Lances of Lynwood,

;"* "Castle Builders,” “Little Duke,” “Kenneth,” “Master of Churchill Abbots, &c.,” “The Bishop's Little Daughter;" any volumes of the “Magazine for the Young," from its commencement; ditto Penny Post, from 1850 to the present year; ditto Churchman's Companion from its commencement to 1860; Jones's “Stories for the Christian Year;" “Maiden of our own Day." --Address, Mrs. C. SMYTH, Woodford Rectory, Thrapston.



SIR, –Will any of your readers give to a very poor Mission (S. Augustine's, Southsea,) books for lending? old numbers of the “Curate's Budget” would be very useful. The 6000 population of the district are entirely poor, chiefly dockyard labourers, wives and families of sailors and very small shopkeepers. Any parcels to be addressed, Mrs. BOND, Worsley Lodge, Southsea. Carriage will gladly be paid.

PARISH LIBRARY BOOKS. C. E. A. will be glad to exchange lists with any one having good Church library books for disposal. She has a good many volumes to exchange, including all Miss C. A. Jones' “ Stories for the Sundays;" or she will sell them at 3d. each, and her other books at very cheap price. Address, C. E. A., care of Mrs. PINK, 1, Gordon Terrace, Upper Richmond Road, Putney, London, S.W.


SIR,—There are vacancies in a Reading, Essay, and Magazine Society, which has been in existence for eight years.For rules apply to the Editor of The S. B., 6, Belgrave Villas, Lee, S.E.

MR. CAFFIN'S APPEAL. Mr. CAFFIN begs to acknowledge with many thanks the following contributions for the Sanctuary of S. Mary's, Ripple : from L. W., (London,) Is.; "Lillie,” (London,) 18.; A Friend, 5s.; R. G., 2s. 60.; E. M. H., (Dover,) 23. 6d.; from Mrs. Robins, (second donation) “An Easter Offering,” £1. ls.; from “ Phæbe,” (Liverpool,) “An Easter Offering,” 2s. 60.; Easter Day, H. C., (Tunbridge Wells,) 58. Mr. Caffin bas now in hand, £10. 12s. lld.

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Notices to Correspondents. Accepted : “Sacramental Meditations ;" “ Finland and the Finns.”

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“Inheritor of more than earth can give."

SHELLEY, The Sunset.

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THE doctor was right. The excessive weakness once overcome, Alec recovered rapidly. At the end of a very short time he was able to travel to London with the rest, to be present at Rosamund's wedding with young

Lord Winyard ; and from thence went down to Folkstone to recruit his strength with sea air and bathing, before rejoining his regiment, which had just come home; while the rest of the family proceeded to Paris, where they intended spending a few weeks.

It was a warm, still evening early in September. The sun had set, but the Castle woods were still aglow with the reflected light, which lit up the red and yellow patches that were just beginning to show themselves among the foliage of the beeches and horse-chestnuts. Helen knelt at the open library-window of Burnstones Cottage, her elbows resting on the window-seat, and Isabel's last letter open before her; she was not reading it however, her eyes were gazing absently over the twilight garden, gay and perfumed with autumn flowers, towards the grey turrets of the old Castle. Poor Helen! she did not look so happy as she once did, her cheeks were paler, and her dark grey eyes had a wistful, craving look which used not to be there before



lad pull up


that dreadful day, last month. The clatter of a horse's hoofs coming along the road, roused her from her reverie, and looking up, she saw a


pony at the gate, and come towards her with a letter in his hand.

“Miss Carrock ?” he asked, holding it out.

Helen saw the words, “Telegraphic Despatch" on the cover, and turned sick with apprehension, as a hundred wild possibilities rushed across her mind. With trembling hand she tore open the envelope, and read as follows :

"From Captain Carlaverock, No. Upper Montague St., Montague

Square, London, to Miss Carrock, Burnstones Cottage, Carrockcleugh,

Langford, Cumberland. Ronald is very ill, -brain-fever. I am with him. Don't be alarmed, but come.”


This was all. The words swam before Helen's eyes, and she caught at the back of a chair for support. Ronald ill! dying perhaps, and she hundreds of miles away.

* Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!” moaned the poor girl, wringing her hands in the bewilderment of despair, and quite forgetful of the presence of the messenger, who stood there, shocked at the effect produced by the bad news, of which he had been the bearer.

“The last train for the sooth leaves Langford at eight, miss,” he said at length, in a dubious tone, as if he did not quite know whether he ought to speak to a young lady in such grief, or not.

The words roused Helen, and restored her presence of mind. She should just have time to catch the train, if she made haste, and would be in London early next morning.

“Will you order the spring-cart from the Carrock Arms, to be sent up immediately ?” she said, turning to the boy; and then snatching up the telegram, hastened on to her grandmother's room, She had some difficulty in making the old lady understand what had happened, for Mrs. Carrock was fast sinking into a childish state, and had not left her room for weeks; and when she did at length take in the news, she was very averse to letting her granddaughter set off that night, it was so late, and there was no one to go with her. In her young days, girls never dreamed of travelling alone, and she could not spare Jessie, &c. What was to be done? Helen was too restless to bear the notion of waiting till next day, when Ronald wanted her to nurse him, and if she were to catch the 8 o'clock train, there was no time to lose. As a last resource, she tried what a tone of determination would do.

“Grandmamma,” she said firmly, "I have quite fixed to go to-night. There is no help for it, and I can travel alone quite well.”

To her surprise, Mrs. Carrock submitted immediately. “Very well, , my dear, take your own way; only don't trouble me about it.” With these words, she turned round on her pillow, and seemed to have lost all clue to the present trouble; murmuring to herself in the peevish tone of a fretful child, something, of which her granddaughter only caught these words, “Wilfred ! Wilfred !-he doesn't mind what I say !--If I am bereaved of my children, I am bereaved.”

Helen was distressed and startled ; she had never known her grandmother's mind wander so much before, and for a moment she stood irresolute whether to leave her or not.

“Never heed her, Miss Helen,” said Jessie, coming forward, “she loses herself often, now; and the news of poor Master Ronald's illness has stirred up old troubles, like. I'll take good care of her, never fear."

Reassured by Jessie's words, Helen banished the vague uneasiness from her mind, and threw herself resolutely into the present. Hastily making her preparations, she was ready to start by the time the springcart came to the door, and was soon driving rapidly through the twilight lanes. The sweet calm of the September evening had a soothing effect on Helen's mind, and she was able to think of the little ins and outs of the journey, which lay before her, the first she had made since her coming to Carrockcleugh, with the exception of one or two shopping expeditions to Carlisle. She was still thinking, with a slight degree of trepidation, how she should manage on arriving at the great bustling London terminus, when the cart drew up before the Langford station, just as the Scotch express rushed into the light, puffing and fuming with impatience as it stopped. In an agony of terror lest she should be late, Helen flew for her ticket, gave her trunk into the charge of a civil porter, and scrambled breathlessly into the nearest first-class carriage. The train rushed on again, out of the lighted station, and over the dark moors, with a speed that made Helen feel that now indeed she was on her way to Ronald. Presently she took out the telegram, and began reading it over again, by the light of the oil lamp, trying in vain to extract some further knowledge, from the meagre outline of bare fact,


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traced in an unknown hand on the paper before her. Oh, the misery of these telegraphic messages ! who has not known it? who has not felt the torturing longing to see behind the veil, and know the whole truth at once ? The one thing that brought comfort to Helen, was the thought that Alec was there; and yet she felt puzzled to account for his

presence. Anyhow, he was there, and her mind rested in that knowledge, as a relief among all the other uncertainties, though the hot blood came up in ber cheeks at the thought of meeting him again, for the first time since that terrible day, when she had knelt by his side on the lonely moor, and found out what he had become to her. Next she found herself speculating how he would comport himself towards her, and then, vexed with herself for thinking of such things in the midst of the trouble about poor Ronald, she shook herself free of her dream, and looking up, encountered a pair of blue eyes, so like Alec's, that she became hotter and more uncomfortable than ever. The rest of the features, however, to which the eyes belonged, bore little resemblance to those of Captain Carlaverock, and were at least twenty years older ; but there was the same sweet, placid expression about the face which disappeared again behind the newspaper held by Helen's vis-à-vis, leaving her to cool her hot cheeks, at the open carriage window. A fresh sea breeze was blowing in from the darkness-hidden waters of Morecambe Bay, whose white fringe of breakers was dimly visible in the faint light of the stars, that were coming out, one by one, in the quiet sky. The solemn, restful calm of the night, released the sense of tightness which had been about Helen's heart, ever since she received the telegram ; and the quiet tears began to well up into her eyes, and drop faster and faster into the friendly darkness. It was a great relief to the overburdened mind, and when at length the air began to grow cold, she drew in her head, and letting down her veil, indulged in a long sleep, from which she was only awakened by the stopping of the train. She

“ Are we in London ?” He of the blue eyes turned to her with a smile, “Not yet, this is Stafford. Can I get you anything ?”

Alec's voice! what could it mean? Helen stared at the stranger in dumb bewilderment. He looked much amused.

" Well ?”

"I-I beg your pardon,” faltered Helen, suddenly becoming alive to the strangeness of her conduct, “I thought—" She came to a standstill, not knowing what to say next.

looked up;

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