Now, my good girl," he said, "you must get your mistress to eat something, as she would have done," pointing to the prostrate form.

"Yes, sir, I will; and if master would please to wait a moment, I will fetch Mrs. Wilton."

"Do, if you please, Sarah," he replied.

"Now, Miss Lancaster, it will not be long before both the nurse and your father are here. This poor creature will not want anything for some hours, I expect, if ever. Keep yourself quiet for the sake of others. God, the God poor Mary loved, will do best for her."

"Here is Mrs. Wilton and Ada, Nelly, my child." "Yes; now go, dear father. Go with Dr. Burns.

Helen would not be prevailed upon to go to sleep that night. "Mary," she said, "was one whom it was a privilege to know, and would be a loss to them and all who knew her."

She lay all that day, all night, and the next day, as if sleeping. Towards night-the nurse had gone down for some tea-Helen was sitting by the bedside, when she found to her surprise that Mary was looking at her, the calm, loving eyes just as usual. Helen wetted her lips with water, and moved her pillow.

"You have been very ill, Mary—very, indeed; but you know me ?"

A feeble motion of the lips, then she slept once more. Dr. Burns said another attack was sure to come soon. They had better be prepared for it."

"What will that do?" said Helen.

"Take her home, Miss Lancaster."

"Then you and I will remain to-night, dear Nelly,' said Mr. Lancaster.

"Yes, papa."

"I wonder does she know anything."

"Speak to her, papa.”

He leaned over her pillow and said, "It is our Classnight, Mary; must we pray for you?"

"Yes."

Hearing Helen sob, she said, with difficulty, "Don't cry, miss."

"We will pray, Mary," her master said.

"Yes."

They knelt together, while Mr. Lancaster entreated. that a quiet passage might be given to her; there could be no question as to safety, if only she might go quietly.

Again the eyes are closed wearily; the lips move as if in prayer, but no sound is heard; only long-drawn sighs heave the chest. The hands are placed by Helen as Mary always had held them in prayer, across her bosom. Helen spoke words of comfort from the Book of God, which she fancied were understood.

'It is seven o'clock; I will go and tell some one to hold a prayer-meeting. I do not like to leave you now." At this moment Dr. Burns entered the room, saying, "I will remain till you return, Mr. Lancaster."

When he did return it was to find his faithful servant in the last struggle,-marked by deep-drawn sighs, with intervals of sleep. Very gently was the "King of Terrors" dealing with Mary. As the end drew nigh, once more she recognised her young mistress and her beloved master.

"We are here, Mary; so are May and Master William. We all pray for you, dear, dear, old friend," said Helen. The dying woman, with an effort, said "Praise, praise!"

"Is it now nothing but praise, Mary ?" her master asked. Again she repeated, "Praise !"

"Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ," he answered.

"With another effort, Mary raised her hand to Helen's loved head, and the words "Bless, bless," fell from her lips.

"Me, too, dear Mary," said the weeping May.

Helen rose, and placed the feeble hand on her sister's head, while the same words were slowly uttered.

Mr. Lancaster held the poor hand, whilst Willie, who loved Mary dearly, wiped the moisture from the brow.

Quietly dozing for a short time, then opening her eyes once more, she looked steadily upward with a smile of joy; then lifted her hand high, and, looking to Mr. Lancaster, said

"Two; both of them, bless God!"

You are

"You will soon join them, dear sister. nearly home. You will see all you love very soonand Jesus, your Redeemer,-and be for ever with your Lord. The river is not wide or rough. 'O grave, where is thy victory? O death where is thy sting?'--Is all well, Mary?"

"All is well," she repeated, then sank into unconsciousness, from which she did not rally. But for laboured breath, and a few sighs which seemed to rend her heart, she seemed quite easy. Then they heard her whisper,— "My Jesus!" Soon after, the eyelids closed,—the silver cord was loosed,-the golden bowl was broken,-the pitcher broken at the fountain;-the wheel broken at the cistern-the spirit had returned to God who gave it. Tired, perplexed, chastened, and purified here, now a glorified saint there.

Though "only a servant," this woman was lamented deeply. When the funeral procession left her master's house, he, accompanied by both circuit ministers, many of the local ministers, and the entire members of her

“class,” rich and poor, followed the humble remains to the house appointed for all living.

Mary Elliott was "only a servant!" No, nothing else as to rank in life. Ask the master of Ashfields what of her. She was one of God's most devoted servants. Unobtrusive, indeed, but beyond all value to the Church of Christ," fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." Ask her sorrowing young mistress. She will tell you she lost in Mary Elliott's death a true friend and Christian adviser; one who made the family's cares, joys, or sorrows her own; one who, as "a servant," was upright, conscientious, and provident; one to be regretted always. "Only a servant," but a loved and honoured servant, approved of all who knew her.

be kind and

Does a young servant read this? and does she say, "I wish I could be as useful and as much loved as Mary Elliott was?" Does she sigh wearily, and think it cannot be ? My young sister, it can be. Masters and mistresses, have the same disposition to helpful where young servants have the desire to be true, faithful, and devoted. Jesus waits to give the same help it was Mary Elliott's wisdom to seek and happiness to find. Glad am I to know so many young servants are looking to Him for this help. To you I would say, "God surely sees your desire and singleness of heart, and in the last day will say to you, 'Ye have done what you could; come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.' There is your bright home if faithful and true, though you be 'only a servant.'"

T

CHAPTER XIX.

Helen.

"If there is happiness below,

In such a home she's shrined;

The human heart can never know

Enjoyment more refined,

Than where the sacred band is twined

Of filial and parental ties,

That tender union, all combined

Of nature's holiest sympathies."

IME sped swiftly at Ashfields as in the outer world. The household had lost in a few years by death a wise and good mother, an obedient, loving son, as well as a true and faithful servant. A service honourable and very responsible had claimed both Charles and Mabel. The circle was narrowing, the master of the house often said, yet still his beloved Helen was at his right hand, his unfailing comforter. Dr. Burns had, during his frequent professional visits to Ashfields, seen much of Helen. He remarked the devotion she gave to her remaining parent, her care for the household, her love for God's house and cause. He looked and first admired, then loved, yet breathed no word of love to Nelly's ear.

"Soon," he told himself, "soon as I can give her a home good as the one she has now, I will ask Helen Lancaster to be my wife. I will bind her by no engagement, though I think she does not dislike me either,