she could upbraid him; nothing on which she could fasten as a text, in order to induce him to repent. Of course, he never had repented; he never said anything about religion, therefore he could not be a Christian man, she argued; undoubtedly he was a Pharisee-a miserable, self-seeking, self-righteous Pharisee, trusting to good works, and to his unimpeachable morality! - that comforted Mary Jane a little, for having arrived at this conclusion, it became her duty to "awaken his mind," and the more difficult the task, the more glorious would be the success.

For many days Mary Jane hesitated as to the best way of opening the campaign, and at last she decided to place in his way a rousing little tract, or leaflet; and accordingly, next morning, when Cyril sat down to breakfast, he found flanking his coffee-cup, a page of clearlyprinted matter, entitled, "A Voice from the Bottomless Pit." And when Mary Jane came in shortly afterwards, she had the satisfaction of beholding the Pharisee deeply intent on its perusal. But no remark was made, and Mary Jane had not the courage to begin the fray; she went downstairs disgusted alike with Cyril's reticence and with her own cowardice ;prime herself as she would before she entered the lodger's parlour, she never could, in her own phraseology, "tackle him," as she had tackled many a hardened sinner in that very room.

"Then I wouldn't tackle him at all, if I was you, Mary Jane," said Mrs. Morris, when her niece discussed the matter with her.

"I must, aunt. I feel that I must save that young man's soul."

“Perhaps it is saved, Mary Jane. I am sure he seems to be

"I know that, Mary Jane; don't think I would undervalue grace, -God's grace!-but I am older than you, and I've known a heap of people converted, first and last, and I've always noticed that God works on people's natures, not against them. He never seems to go against the grain, like we poor foolish creatures do; and I am afraid there's one fault in the Crocus-street people. Mary Jane; they want to save every body in one way-that is, their own way; and if anybody gets converted without going through a particular experience, they stand in doubt of him! Some want the thunders of the law, and some want the still small voice:-some will only listen to John the Baptist: and there are some that never heeded the fire and smoke of Sinai, that are melted in a minute at Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' It's just according to the sort you are, whether the preacher hunts you down with Flee from the wrath to come,' or whether you are drawn along, almost in spite of yourself, with God so loved the world.' There's many a sinner brought to God in Croens-street Chapel, I know, and I rejoice to know it; but bless me, Mary Jane. there are other places where God speaks besides Crocus-strect, and speaks in ways that we don't know anything about. So don't go and limit the Lord's loving-kindness, and don't shut people out of heaven because they don't see things through your spectacles, or speak your tongue. Well! it's a great mercy the Lord knows them that are His; and His seal is upon them, or it would be all up with most of us, I am thinking; for there's a lot of

chapel-people would keep the churchpeople out, and lots of churchpeople would keep out the chapelpeople; and some would say, 'Don't let the Quakers come in;' and some would push the Methodists out, and some the Baptists, and they'd push some out in their turn, and the Roman Catholics would make a clean sweep, and keep us all out that didn't worship the Virgin Mary; and there are some of us will say a Romanist can't be saved."

"Neither can he," returned Mary Jane, solemnly; "and I don't know about the Quakers, they have no ordinances; and as to the Church of England, it's all sham, and form, and rottenness, and no true Christian can stay in it! I'm told they worship images now, just the same as the deluded Romanists; and there's a deal of darkness among the Independents, and-"

"Hush! Mary Jane! I won't hear you say any more. I know you are very clever, and you know your Bible better than I do, and you've a gift of prayer I haven't, and you can give in your experience at class as very few can; but I don't like to hear anybody hard; it's clean against the Gospel, it seems to me."

Silenced, but not convinced, Mary Jane went her way, and next morning Cyril found" Come to Judgment,” staring at him, in letters an inch long, and the next day he was provided with a small pamphlet, entitled "The Wrath to Come." Other literature of the same kind followed, and Mary Jane was getting desperate, when one evening, as she was about to carry down the kettle, Cyril suddenly said, Miss Owen, am I indebted to you for these addresses?" pointing to a little heap that lay beside him.

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Miss Owen returned the kettle to the hob as hastily as if her fingers had been burned; she felt sadly nervous and confused, now that the long anticipated moment had actually arrived; and instead of commencing the wordy harangue she had carefully composed for the occasion, she meekly answered in the affirmative.

"I am very much obliged to you," returned Cyril; but before he could proceed, Mary Jane burst out, "Oh, sir! the pit of hell is before you!" "I think not-I believe not," was Cyril's quiet answer. "I know in whom I trust, and He will never let me perish."

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Oh, sir! don't deceive yourself; have you been convinced of sinhave you repented?"

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You are very good to take so much interest in me," replied Cyril; but do you think it is possible for any one who has come to Christ, not to be convinced of sin, not to repent?" He spoke so gently, that again she felt circumvented; she had expected indignation, hauteur; being desired, perhaps, to leave the room, and she had covenanted with herself to stand firm, and deliver "her message" to the full, before she left him. He would not resort to force, she knew; she had divined the chivalric instincts of Cyril's nature, and she was aware that her womanhood would ensure for her a certain amount of deference, even though she exasperated him ever so much." But Cyril's polite rejoinder, and histone, so suave yet so perfectly sincere, took her quite aback. Then, when he proceeded to reach a chair for her accommodation, she fairly broke down, and began to suspect that, after all, he might have the root of the matter in him." A thoroughly unregenerate sinner would have flamed out at her abrupt address, and a Pharisee would have shown his disgust. She sat down, however, feeling herself for once rather out of place, and quite uncertain how it would be best to improve the occasion. She could have hurled warnings and denunciations at him, and quoted texts innumerable; she could have said a thousand stringent things, if she had only been standing with the kettle in her hand, and if he had only resented her remarks; but it was another thing to sit there, opposite to a very elegant, finelyspoken young man, who seemed not altogether steeped in sin, or given over to the pleasures of the world. But then he went to church! she

"Not I indeed! I would as soon go to the playhouse. I never set foot in a church in my life but once, and then I came out shocked enough. There was the minister saying,

We have erred and strayed from Thy ways,' which was true enough, and there were hundreds of people and school-children mocking him, and nothing was said to them."

"What can you mean?" "Everything the minister said, they said after him."

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We call that responding,' and we think it right to join audibly in the service."

"Well! it may suit some, but it would never do for me-such shocking irreverence!"

Miss Owen, it only seemed so to you. I have been equally pained by what seemed to me to be lack of reverence in some of your chapels. I once entered one, where three or four persons were all praying aloud together, and at the very top of their voices, and some of their expressions shocked me very much, but I gave them credit for sincerity, and believed that God looked to the intent rather than to the manner. One man prays and praises best, that is, most fervently, in a cathedral, and according to a set form; another lifts up his heart most earnestly, most ardently, in an obscure con

* A fact.

venticle, where the preacher, so far from being master of the English tongue, can scarcely join two sentences intelligibly. My soul may rise to God in the glorious anthem and the chanted psalm, while yours finds freest utterance in the extempore prayer, interspersed with the groans and ejaculations of your fellow-worshippers; and with the great Father Himself it is all one.

'All shrines are His, where Jean's love is spoken,

All altars His, where Bread of Life is broken.'"

Mary Jane was silenced, though not convinced; but certainly Mr. Denham was converted, and it only remained for her to guide him, if possible, into the Crocus-street paths. It struck her that the Rev. Samuel Pumphrey might manage the matter more successfully; he would be able to refute Cyril's arguments, and she resolved there and then to bring her pastor and her aunt's lodger together; no mortal man could withstand the combined logic and eloquence of the reverend gentleman: no sinner could fail to be "impressed;" no saint to be wonderfully edified in listening to his discourse. either public or private. Such at least was Mary Jane's opinion.

The next evening, while Cyril was waiting for his supper-it was class-night, and Mary Jane was absent-there came a tap at his door, a very decided, emphatic tap, which frequently repeated must have been injurious to the knuckles. Before any response could have reached the applicant on the other side the door opened. and a young man in seedy black and a dingy necktie made his appearance, and in a voice worthy of Stentor, announced himself as the Reverend Samuel Pumphrey, arrived at the instance of Miss Owen, who had informed him that Mr. Denham would be glad to hold with him a little private conversation of a spiritual nature.

Mary Jane had evidently resorted to a tiny bit of fiction, since Cyril had never intimated any desire of reeciving counsel from the Crocus-stret

pastor, but he rose and courteously welcomed the new-comer, and invited him to the fire, for it was a very chilly evening, at the same time wondering why this pulpit orator should think it necessary to address him as if he were hard of hearing, and thinking too how much better he would look if his hands were washed, and his hair neatly brushed back from his forehead. The two men sat facing each other almost knee to knee, Mr. Pumphrey's huge flat feet, cased in clumsy muddy boots, steaming on Cyril's fender; but as Cyril looked at his new acquaintance, who was blowing his nose trumpetically-if I may be allowed to coin a wordwith what seemed to be another neckerchief still dirtier than the one he wore, he saw that he was confronted with a man of power, a man of no ordinary type. He had a mighty brow under the shadow of that mass of wild, unkempt dark hair: his eyes were keen, and instinct with soul; his hands, despite their grimy hue, showed nerve and mental strength, and wonderful tenacity of purpose. Cyril saw all this at a glance, and wondered whether he would be turned into a Primitive or Reformed Methodist, or a Plymouth brother, or whatever else the Crocus-street folk might be, before the termination of the seance. He had not Mary Jane to deal with now, but her pastor, who was a man of mettle-a man also, who certainly preached what he heartily and uncompromisingly believed; a man, Cyril felt sure, to be admired and to be respected, if only he liked soap and water better, and would not speak in that excruciatingly strong, loud tone.

They "went at it," however, as Mary Jane said, directly they were settled. Miss Owen, not thinking it unworthy of her in such a critical case to turn eavesdropper, had ensconced herself in Cyril's bedroom, with the door, which opened into the parlour, slightly ajar; though she might have heard her Boanerges in the kitchen, or in the garret, or even in the street. They went at it indeed, and though at eleven o'clock

VOL II.

they agreed still to differ, both were gainers. Cyril had learnt much from that vigorous, independent mind, and the reverend gentleman had not failed to admire his antagonist's well-rounded periods, his suavity, and his high breeding, the like of which the Reverend Samuel had never before encountered, but which, meeting for the first time, he quite appreciated. They parted then, promising to renew the controversy, in which neither had lost temper, on the following evening. Mary Jane retired in a state of subdued exultation; victory was certain now that her beloved pastor had thus energetically taken up the cudgels. The cause was really won, and the Crocus-street congregation would receive an accession indeed!-such an accession as would make it hold up its head for many and for many a day.

Never were two men more dissimilar than the two thus curiously brought together, each lacking that which was the strongest point in the other. But strangely enough, they

took to each other," as people significantly say. Cyril strongly admired and even envied the rugged force and unwavering purpose of his opponent, and Mr. Pumphrey on his side appreciated almost beyond their deserts, Cyril's depth of feeling, his elegance of style and tone, his tastes so classic and so refined, the evident poetry of his nature, and the culture that betrayed itself continually. Cyril's life had been very much like one of Mendelssohn's "Lieder ohne Wörten; Samuel Pumphrey's had rather resembled a crashing, fullband Overture, yet not wanting in real music of a certain sort. It was well that the two should mingle their strains for a little while.

At last it came to be a regular thing for Mr. Pumphrey to run over to Mrs. Morris's after evening service, class, or prayer-meeting, to the infinite annoyance of the provision dealer's daughter, who attributed these visits to the fascinations of May Jane. And then Cyril found his way to his new friend's lodgings, and hey discussed all sorts of subjects, sometimes placidly, sometimes

EE

fiercely, but always parting on most amicable terms.

Thus commenced a friendship which was to be of infinite service to both young men, and materially to change the aspect of affairs for both. Still Cyril came not to Crocus-street chapel, and Mary Jane was sadly disappointed.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

AND all this while, as Cyril grew wiser on points of theology and philosophy, his

resources were

dwindling and his prospects not improving; and one evening early in the new year, when the friends were seated over the fire, shivering as they heard the howling of the wintry blast, and the sharp sleet driving against the window, it occurred to Samuel Pumphrey that Cyril was more than ordinarily depressed.

Professedly they were enjoying themselves, for Mrs. Morris had sent them up a seed-cake made from her grandmother's aunt's receipt, and a savoury pie worthy of Lucullus, and they were also indulging in potations of strong, hot coffee, for Cyril now only took wine and ale medicinally, and Mr. Pumphrey was a vehement teetotaller. "What is the matter with you?" asked the minister at length, seeing that the fragrant beverage failed in its usual stimulating effects. "Really, Denham, you are as gloomy as an owl to-night. Has any thing happened to put you out?"

Two months before Cyril would have answered coldly enough; he would have been annoyed at the familiarity which the question implied, and he would have given the curtest answer consistent with truth and courtesy. But Cyril had learned much of late, and he had learned by this time to value the friendship of Samuel Pumphrey, even though he was so absurd as to consider a due attention to personal appearances a device of the Evil One, to be classed among the pomps and vanities of this wicked world. Still he was improved in this respect, and

seemed less inclined to imitate the habits of an Indian fakir than formerly, for he always washed his hands before he knocked at Mrs. Morris's door, and he had learned to wipe his boots upon the mat; moreover, his laundress was astonished one day to receive a remonstrance on the subject of his neckties, which he justly thought might be made a little whiter and a little stiffer if they only had a little more attention, and were violently scorched less frequently.

"Well! I must confess to feeling rather dismal to-night," was Cyril's answer. I will tell you what it is. Pumphrey :—I heard yesterday of a place in the City that I thought I might fill, and this morning I went about it, and though I offered three months' services for nothing, I was -not very courteously-declined." On what grounds?"

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"The old grounds-want of proper references, inexperience, and to-day I was told-an air unsuited to the situation.'

"I do not wonder at that: when you step into an office, or a countinghouse, the clerks and principals must naturally think you are come to give large orders, not to offer yourself for the vacant place."

In this old coat? I am sure I look shabby enough, if that is what

you mean.

Not exactly: it would perhaps be better for you if you were less shabbily dressed, but you have the air of a decayed gentleman; the moment I spoke to you, I knew that I addressed one who had seen what the world calls better days.' Now there is no class of men more decried, more shunned in the mercantile world than such an one. Employers, as a rule-mind, I don't say there are not exceptions-but as a rule they steer clear of reduced aristocrats."

"I wish you would find out one of the exceptions to your rule."

"I would if I could.. But, really. Denham, is it quite essential that you turn your hand to something?

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Quite essential if I am to live. and live respectably. You see I make so little by authorship; I have not earned £5 since I came