but he knew that by offering to do so he would hurt his friend's feelings, so he did not make the proposal.

But now, as the old pastor had no longer either wife or child, and his own wants were easily satisfied, he began to think about making the journey. And now, too, his parish would not be left without a pastor during his absence. So in the month of May he started on his journey to his distant friend. When he reached his abode, the magistrate warmly welcomed his old friend.

That first evening was spent in telling to each other the joyful and painful events of their lives. The venerable pastor forgot the fatigue which the long and wearisome journey had caused him. It was not till midnight had passed that the friends thought of going to rest. They separated with a hearty good night. retired to his comfortable chamber; he read, as was his wont, the Word of God; then he prayed his evening prayer, and did not forget his lost, his prodigal son. Then he went to bed, and was soon asleep.

(To be continued.)

Pastor Segbert

TAKEN HOME. TREET LAMPS and the gas in the shop-windows were lighted-night had come with its stars and its keen, sharp wind, and poor little Charlie Davis shivered in his ragged clothes, as he turned his weary footsteps towards the miserable place which he called 'home.' Once in a while he stopped to look in at the hot pies and cakes, or at the ham and beef, for which his hungry mouth was longing, but he dared not spend one of his hard-earned pennies; as it was, he would

get rough words and blows for bringing in so little after being out all day.

Charlie's father and mother were dead, and he would have been sent to the workhouse if the woman where they had lodged had not promised to keep him for two or three shillings a-week, if he brought her all he could earn by selling watercresses, oranges, or whatever else was in season. On this day Charlie had been very unlucky; every one had passed him by excepting one or two children, who had spent a few coppers-only fivepence altogether was in his pocket, after trudging about since morning with the basket of oranges, which seemed so heavy now he was tired.

When he reached home his heart beat with fear as he opened the door.

'Well,' said a woman's sharp voice, 'what have you got?'

'Only fivepence,' said poor Charlie, tremblingly. Well he might tremble, for a heavy blow fell upon his head.

Oh, don't! dont' he cried. I can't help it, I'

'Don't talk to me!' screamed the woman. as she snatched the coppers from him. I'll not be bothered with you any longer: I've had enough of it. It's always the same tale. So now you may take yourself off!"

Charlie, too frightened to speak, hoped that Nancy' was only angry and would not really drive him away, for it was better to be with her than to be wandering about the streets with nowhere to go to.

Angry at his hesitation, the woman seized the boy by the arm, and opening the door pushed him out into the court as she exclaimed, "There!-I've often said you should go; now I'll keep to it. Don't you let me see you here again!'

Poor Charlie! out he went, along the streets, which were not so crowded now, for the hour was late: he did not know where

he was going, neither did he care, but he just wandered on and on until at last he found he was at Waterloo Bridge, and then he sank down in a dark corner, feeling sick and giddy from hunger and weariness, until he fell asleep and forgot his misery for a little while.

Not for long: all of a sudden Charlie was roused by the glare from the bull's eye of a lantern thrown full in his face, and he heard a policeman's voice ordering him to move off'-he must not stop there.

Wearily Charlie moved on, so cold, so hungry; he was thinking of his mother, did she know all about him now? Oh, if he could but die and go to her!

Her

He could not walk very far: once again he sank down on a door-step in a quiet street, and there, when the day was breaking, a woman found him, and her voice awoke him as she asked what he was doing there and why he didn't go home. dress was poor but her face was kind, and she looked so pityingly at the boy as she bent over him, that he was not afraid, and he would have told her his tale only he felt dizzy and strange, and could not remember it all-poor Charlie's night in the street had been more than his little starving body could bear.

The next thing he knew was that he was lying on a little iron bedstead, with a blanket over him; it was a poor, dirty room, but the kind woman's face was there: she saw that Charlie was dying, and she had carried him to her own home. A strange feeling came over Charlie; his hands were hot and his eyes heavy, and he ached as much as if Nancy had been beating him: some one came in then, a gentleman with a quiet step and voice, who knelt by the bedside for a moment and then sat down on the only chair in the room, close by the dying boy.

'But you are sorry, my boy?' Charlie nodded feebly, and tears filled his eyes. All that his dead mother had told him of God and Heaven was coming back to his mind then, and he remembered how many things he had done since she left. him, which made him afraid and sorry now.

'Now say after me, "O Jesus, take pity on me: I am very sorry for my sins. Wash them all away in Thy precious blood, and forgive me for not being a better boy.”

Charlie repeated the words feebly, and then he listened as the clergyman told him of the Saviour Who had died on the Cross that his sins might be pardoned, and that his soul might live for ever in Heaven.

After that Charlie never knew whether he lay there hours or moments, he only knew that he felt no pain or care, and those who watched him thought he was only sleeping when his weary little spirit was at last set free.

That day Nancy had looked for him, repenting of her harshness; but she could hear nothing of him. For many a day and night his pale, weary face haunted her, his frightened look as she had driven him out, and she determined to treat him better if he should return. But God had taken pity on Charlie; the snow covered his grave, and the silent stars shone down on it by night, but the boy's soul had joined the band of children in Paradise through the love of Jesus, Who had taken him Home.