hung his head and looked so much ashamed, as he answered, 'No, she wouldn't!'

'I told you so; but, never mind, we must do what mother says, and it can't be long now before tea-time.'

All that night Charley was restless and feverish, and when morning came he seemed so ill that his mother sent for the doctor, who asked many questions as to what the child had been doing the day before.

'He must have been overheated, I should say, and then taken a sudden chill. You must keep him warm in bed, and I will send some medicine. The great thing is to get the skin moist, or we may have fever setting in.'

Fanny happened to be in the passage and to hear these words as the doctor was leaving, and an unpleasant thought came into her mind.

Could drinking cold water when he was very hot have made Charley ill?' she asked.

Very likely,' answered her mother. "But surely, none of you had any yesterday? I sent out milk to you in the field, because I knew you would be hot and thirsty. What makes you ask the question?'

Fanny did not like to explain. She remembered Charley's confused look when she had questioned him on his return from the house; but until she heard Doctor Lowe's opinion, it had never entered her head that her little brother might have helped himself to the water which Jane had refused. Her mother noticed her hesitation, and asked: Why don't you answer? What do you

6

know?'

I was only wondering; I know nothing,' said Fanny.

So her mother questioned her no more, but went back to Charley, who was tossing restlessly about, and complaining very much of thirst and headache. She dipped a handkerchief in eau de Cologne and tied it

round his forehead, and gave him some barley-water to drink. But it did not satisfy him, and he begged piteously for water.

'No, it won't be good for you just now. And, Charley dear, did you drink any yesterday, when you were hot?'

A startled look came into the child's eyes, and he asked in alarm,—

'Did you see me? Oh, mother! don't be angry. It was very naughty, but you don't know how thirsty I was!' And then the whole tale was sobbed out, and his mother said gently:

'Don't cry any more, dear; I forgive you now you have told me all, and I don't think you will do anything of the kind again. The water was very nice while you were drinking it, but it has made you ill. And now you must take nasty medicine, and lie in bed instead of playing in the hay with Tom and Fanny.

Don't you see, darling, how much better it would have been to have borne being thirsty a little longer yesterday? Now you have to bear being thirsty altogether, because you have made yourself feverish. But we won't talk any more about it; my little Charley's head aches, and he knows it all comes of drinking at the filter-tap.'

'Oh, mother, I wish I hadn't; it was nice: but it is not nice to be lying here like this to-day.'

No, Charley. Though wrong-doing seems pleasant enough just while it is being done, yet it brings sure pain afterwards. Stolen waters are, indeed, sweet' for the moment, but they turn to bitterness in the end. And our little boy had learned those truths well by the time his illness had passed off, and he was fit to run about in the fields EMMA RHODES.

once more.

AMONG LIONS.
(Continued from page 283.)

CHAPTER XVIII.
LICE SWAYNE had re-
turned to Moor Thornton
without ever having made
out that visit to Man-
chester in company with
Mrs. Holmes, bad weather
and bad colds had stood
in the way.
But when

she regretted this to her father he bade her not to distress herself, as he had every hope of finding out through another channel all they desired to know of little Bell. He had already written in what he thought a likely direction for information, and when it came Alice should know all about it.

As for Mrs. Holmes, that was an easier matter, since she knew at least the surname which her little grand-child bore, and he fully expected that her inquiries would soon be answered, for Alice, before she left Littleby, had got the old lady to write to her friend, the Inspector, regarding her sonin-law.

So the two mysteries, as Alice called them, seemed in a fair way of being cleared up, and meantime she busied herself in making Bell a complete outfit.

'If she has come of tidy folk,' said Alice, thinking in Moor fashion, she shall have tidy things to appear in before them, supposing we ever find any one belonging to

her.'

And now she made no objection to Dora's rather clumsy attempts at sewing being exercised in favour of Bell too, for by strict scrutiny Alice had discovered that it was a feeling of selfish exclusiveness which made her like to do everything herself for any particular friend; so Dora sat happily on

holiday afternoons by Alice's side, pricking her finger cheerfully over aprons and pockethandkerchiefs, very proud of being able to help with Bell's dress, and learning carefulness and diligence in her anxiety to please Alice and do some real work.

And Bell was a regular attendant at school, whither Johnny insisted on accompanying her, not going to his old place with the boys, but making his way among the girls and infants to keep near his dear Bell.

No one noticed or hindered him; it was best so, Mr. Swayne and Dr. Darell thought: so Johnny held his book often upside down, or fetched his slate, as he saw Bell do, perfectly quiet and content, poor stricken child! and daily becoming more patient and obedient.

People who had said hard words of the pert, forward child in former days-Violet Darell, for instance-now looked on with tears in their eyes at the poor little wreck.

And yet, as Mr. Swayne said, it might be for the best; we can see such a little way in advance that we are poor judges of what is fittest for us and our children. Better Johnny Weir than Lawrence Styles. When Johnny and Bell were not in school, they might generally be found with Mr. Prince riding on one of his waggons, or trotting by his side, Bell chattering, Johnny murmuring some aimless song. His voice and sense of tune were both lost for the present, and it was very doubtful if he would ever recover them till the day when he would join the choir above.

Mr. Prince had suffered from the fever too, as half Moor had done, and he would look at Johnny with the tenderest pity in his eyes.

"For sparing me my senses and giving me health and strength again, thank God," he said, lifting his hat, one day as Johnny wandered by.

Many a Litany and many a chant of

praise went up in the fields and roads from Mr. Prince, not learned in this world's lore; he was full of a better wisdom.

Johnny, poor lad, had rather despised him in former days, but now all was changed; when Bell could not quiet the restlessness which now and then took possession of him, Mr. Prince seldom failed. So the three were often together, Bell questioning, Mr. Prince answering as best he might, and Johnny seemingly listening.

Bell had many things to ask, for she was very observant, and no one hitherto had cared to tell her anything. She learned quickly too, and the disregard of truth in which she had been brought up was giving way before kind treatment and good instruction. Bell listened with eager interest to Miss Brett and Mr. Swayne when they read or told the marvellous doings of our Lord on earth. It came freshly and newly to her understanding.

'He could have cured Johnny,' she exclaimed one day in school, when the miracles of our Lord were the subject. Can no one find Him now?'

Some little ones smiled that Bell should ask such a question; they were wiser, they thought; they knew He had gone up into Heaven, and could no more be found, as Bell hoped, in the cornfields or by the waterside. And Bell remembered it, too, in a moment. But Mr. Swayne checked the smile, and called Bell to him, and said that she was right in thinking that our Lord could cure Johnny; and though in Heaven we might still ask Him to do so, for He heard children's voices as plainly there as He had ever done on earth. So Bell felt no more ashamed of her wish to find Jesus, and tell Him of Johnny, but, aided by Mr. Prince, she framed a prayer which she repeated night and morning, holding the little boy's hands in hers the while, to the

effect that God would give him back his senses if it were best for him. The latter clause Mr. Prince had insisted on inserting, for Bell, like Mrs. Weir, could not at first understand how it could be other than good for Johnny to have this gift back again.

But days and weeks went by, and no gleam lighted up Johnny's dull brain; he followed Bell like a dog, his eyes grew wistful and anxious if he missed her a moment, and after a time she could even take him to church he obeyed her wishes so thoroughly that she could quell his restless movements and murmurs with a look.

But still he was 'Poor Johnny!' to whom the tiniest children would offer a flower or toy and then shrink away, as if from something they only half understood, and therefore half feared.

The heavens declare the glory of God,' she murmured to herself, and her thoughts went back to something she had heard often and dreamed of often, too; yet nothing had ever come of her knowledge or her dreams.

We, too, are made to glorify God in our daily life. Every talent He has bestowed, every action we perform, should be used for His glory. Ah, now I remember dear Mrs. Wilmot telling me that over and over again before I left school; and I really meant to