"Come, little sister; come, my dear; mamma must rest now. We are all quite sure you will be everything mamma wishes."

Her father kissed her fondly, telling her to go to her room. "Don't cry so, my little girl; don't, it so distresses poor ma. Go, my love; and come back to this room when you are quiet."

"Come, Mab, come!" So saying, Charlie took her from the door, where she still lingered, sobbing. "You see, darling, you and I are not so clever as Nell. I ought to have called Ann up; she knew better than we did. I am to blame as much, or more than you. Pray don't cry so, dear. I don't think our dear mother is any worse."

"Oh, I hope not, Charlie; I hope not. What is it that makes me so disagreeable and rough? I seem never to be able to do anything quietly. I vex Helen and you; I grieve and distress my mother, sick and ill as she is; I annoy papa; and you know, brother, I don't wish. I would rather die than do all this! Oh, dear, dear! How is it, Charlie? Why am I so wicked ?” Again are there sobs that seem to rend her very heart.

"Hush! Mabel, dear sister. You are hurting yourself, and that is wrong too. Shall I tell you where the wrong is ?"

"I shall be only too glad, Charlie, if you will help me to be better."

"Well, does my little sister pray?"

Mabel was silent, her head drooped and her lips quivered, but presently looking up, she said

"Not much, Charlie; but will you help me?"

"I know very little myself, dear; but if I can, I will.” "Thank you, dear brother. You remember what ma said when she kissed me ?"

"Yes."

"Well, begin helping now, by saying them as she did."

Almost in a whisper, so full was his heart, the youth, clasping Mabel in his arms, said, reverently

"God bless my darling sister, and help her from this very moment to be Thy child."

With a clearer, happier face, Mabel turned away, and closed the door of her room.

After this time, though it was not understood that Mabel had given her heart to God, yet her temper was better, her wilful ways were left behind in a very great measure, and a softness, that was very pretty, came over her, particularly when in the room of her mother.

Helen did not leave her mother after this time. Very many kind Christian friends came, almost each day, with offers of help. Mr. Aubrey, the superintendent minister of the circuit, with his wife, did much to give comfort to the sorrowing house. Their sympathy and prayers were a source of gladness in the room of the fast-sinking woman, as well as to the hearts of those so soon to be left alone. Alone ! Yes, alone; for what can supply the place of a Christian mother?

Helen had loved her mother fondly at all times, but during this last illness there was a closer union even than before. It was a saving acquaintance with the same Saviour, a clear knowledge of His pardoning love, the interchange of thought, the united prayer of this Christian mother and child, that strengthened the bond, and made it so beautiful. It need not be said how grateful the husband and father was to see this. Helen's school Bible, bearing many pencil marks of her own and Lottie Cartmell's, was the Book used. When reading to her beloved patient from the precious volume, she

would read slowly, often pausing, that the rich, deep, glorious promises of the Gospel might fall on the ear and rest on the heart; especially did she love the twentythird and twenty-seventh Psalms, and the fourteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel. A chastened happiness came to them all when, with the closing day, father, mother, children, and servants knelt together to pray for submission to the Divine will, and grace to bear whatever may be laid on them further, knowing full well that the discipline must be wise and blest

"Where the teacher is Divine."

One bright day, when Helen had been reading to her, Mrs. Lancaster asked to be raised, that she might look out over the sea, now covered with a golden light, thrown by the departing sun over the ever-moving waters, and touching the hill tops with orange and purple sheen. As she sat gazing on the prospect the golden rays flooded the chamber, resting for a few brief moments on the face of the dying woman. Helen remembered the picture by Ary Scheffer, of Monica, "The Mother of St. Augustine:" the pale face, so full of peace and confidence, at rest at last. So her mother, in peace and quiet, looked out and over the valley without fear. As they sat, a little ship came up, riding with full sails, looking like a thing of life, on the full sun-kissed tide, her helm bent to the pier. One by one the sails are furled till all the poles are bare; the speed is slackened; slower she comes on,-still more slow. Now the sailors cast out the anchor; the little bark swings slowly, but goes no farther; in a short time, but for the motion of the sea, she is at rest. No word had been spoken. Now Mrs. Lancaster asked Helen

"Did you notice the ship?"

"Yes, mamma."

"Did you see, as she neared the shore, how her sails

were taken in ?”

"Yes, dear."

"Did you mark the slackened speed?"

Almost in a whisper, lest her voice should betray her emotion-for Helen read the passing thought-" Yes, I saw it, mother.”

"I am like that ship, Nelly: her voyage is done; she has cast her anchor, and rides in perfect safety. I am close to the end of my journey; the sails are furled; the speed is very slow, dear; I rest, having cast my anchor within the veil, Nelly."

"It is sure and steadfast, mother?"

"It is, love; it is:

"Thrice blessed bliss-inspiring hope,

It lifts the drooping spirit up;

It brings to life the dead.""

As she repeated these lines her soul seemed wrapped in ecstacy and love, and her daughter almost imagined her holding converse with the bright inhabitants of another world.

"Let me lie down, Nelly. I want to talk with you of those that will be your care soon-very soon. Above all things, comfort your father; do not let him miss me more than you can help.”

"I will never forget this, ma; never!"

Then, Nelly, there are the others. Will you care for them ?"

"Mamma, I will do what I can."

me.

"Thanks, my blessing, for you are a great blessing to Charlie must leave you in a time, but I do not fear for my son; he serves God; his Master will take care of

him. I fear most for Mabel. You will be very gentle with her, Nelly, please. She will bend to God by-andby, I am certain."

"So am I, ma. I will help my dear sister. Don't fear for her. God won't let one of your children be lost, I know, mother."

"Horace, my timid, loving boy, will be no trouble; but please encourage him to tell you everything, as he did me: you and his рара, of course, I mean. He will be so much happier." "We will, mamma.

He shall have all care."

"Then there is my bonnie Willie, my handsome little son. He will claim much of your attention. He is so young-only eight. You will take great care of him, and watch his disposition. You know he is rather fond of disputing everything: take care of him for me. May, my small love, you will be a mother to, training and teaching her to be good."

"You may trust me, mother dear."

"I feel that I am giving you a great responsibility; but God has fitted you for this, I think, and so I give you the solemn charge. You will be faithful to it, I know; and try all of you to meet me in heaven."

With a full heart, holding her mother's hand, kissing and bathing it with her tears, she sobbed

"By God's help, I will be all you tell me to be to all of them,-father, brothers, sisters. If more be wanted, I will be more. Be at peace, darling mother; I will take your place as far as I can."

Thanks, my own, then; this is the last talk of earth,

and now

"Jesus, my only hope Thou art,

Strength of my failing flesh and heart."

So passed several quiet days, till one day that mes

C