'I am glad to hear these voices saying 'Yes,' said Mr. Swayne, and to feel sure too that there are others who have not spoken, and yet have made an effort to resist the tempter too. How long, children, must you be on your guard against the great lion who would devour your souls?'

The children paused. Then one little voice said,

'Till we die.' It was Johnny. Every one looked at him in amaze; he seldom spoke except as a gentle echo of some one he loved and looked up to; and now he was quite silent and unmoved again. Some flash of reason had illumined the poor boy, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Roger looked wistfully at Mr. Swayne, and Alice whispered, 'Oh, father, does he know things now?' But Mr. Swayne stroked the boy's hair.

'In God's good time Johnny will know everything,' he said; but that will not be just yet. He has answered well, though; we must be on our guard, as I have so often before told you, all our lives long. Roger,

in his distant wanderings, you, little Moor children, in your cottages, the same dangers await you. And where can you all look for help?'.

It

To the God of Daniel,' said Bell. was her favourite story, and she had it by heart. 'He shut the lions' mouths so that they did not hurt him.'

'And He is ready to shut the mouths of those lions that hurt His children on earth if they will but ask Him,' said Mr. Swayne, 'for Christ's sake, Who conquered all.'

There was a hush for a moment, and then Roger said, looking down, 'I shall be gone next Sunday, will you ask it now?—for us all,' he added, but he clasped a hand of Bell and Johnny on either side of him.

And Mr. Swayne asked, as he had been desired, help for his little flock-his own children in their pleasant home, Roger going forth to a strange country, Bell looking forward to a busy life, and Johnny treading perhaps quietly, yet surely, the path to his last resting-place.

Dangers might surround them, evil beasts assail, and yet of them, he humbly trusted, he might one day say, as did his Divine Master, Of them which Thou gavest Me have I lost none.' H. A. F.

THE SCORCHED TESTAMENT.

THAT Testament seems like you—as if

it had seen hard service, Blake.' 'Aye sir, you're right-it has; and met with more rough usage than you could guess at.'

'You had it with you when you were a soldier abroad, I suppose?'

Part of the time, sir. The fact is, it was given me by a dying comrade; and I don't mind telling you how he came to give it me, though it isn't much to my credit.'

The two speakers were the parish clergy

man and an old army pensioner, who had come home to his native village in Wiltshire, to spend his well-earned pension and his last days. The two men, different as was their position in life, were old and fast friends; for they both loved and trusted in the same Saviour, and they were travelling towards the same home; and many were the chats they used to have in the pensioner's cottage, which was a pattern of cleanliness and order.

'I don't think I ever noticed the book before,' said the clergyman.

"Very true, sir; you never did see it before the sight of it brought to mind an unpleasant event in my life, so I put it away; but this morning, as I was turning over some of my old baggage, I came upon it, and took it out to look at it. Do you see, sir, it is all scorched and burnt at the edges, and one page is almost gone in St. John ?'

'I am quite impatient to hear your story, Blake; how is it that you have never told it me before? I thought I had quite exhausted all your stock.'

'Why you see, sir, I didn't mind talking to you of the things I was proud of-the battles I'd fought, and the wounds I'd had, and such-like, but, as I said before, this was not to my credit, and so I didn't care to say anything about it: but, however, I will tell

you now, I feel my mind will be all the easier for it.

'In the regiment in which I was out in Spain fighting under the Duke they were a terrible lot of fellows, and, to my shame, I was as bad as any of them. Why, sir, I don't suppose hardly any of them used God's name but to swear by; or had a thought of what would become of their souls if they were Ikilled in action. But in my company it so happened there was one quite different from the rest; a quiet, fair-haired lad, of about nineteen. James Fletcher was his

name; he'd had a good mother, who bad brought him up in the fear of God, and I needn't tell you he led a wretched life amongst us. Instead of larking with us he used to sit in a dreamy sort of way, thinking, for hours at a time; and often, too, he had his Testament in his hand reading it. Well, sir, we played him many a cruel and foolish trick, but he was always so good-tempered and patient that we got tired at last: there was no fun in it, so we set him down as a fool and a coward, who would be no good when it came to hard fighting. For my part I hated him with a bitter hatred. I know why now. It was because his good example made me uneasy, and brought thoughts into my head that I didn't care should come there; and so I never lost a chance of doing him an ill turn when I could.

'At last the time came when we overtook the French, whom we had been pursuing, and we all knew that a great battle was to be fought the next day. We were wild with joy, for we wanted to be at them and have done with it.'

'It was a fine, cold night, and we sat round our camp-fires drinking and singing, knowing that before another sun set many of us would be lying cold and stiff on the ground. I was wandering about from fire to fire, joking with one and drinking with another, half mad with excitement at the coming battle, when I suddenly came upon young Fletcher, sitting down and trying to spell out by the dim light of the fire the print of his Testament. On the impulse of the moment, half in frolic, half in anger, I had kicked the book out of his hands into the midst of the flames. As quick as thought he sprang up and caught it before it was more burnt than you see, and then he turned and gave me such a look! At first I thought he was going to strike me, and then a soft,