after which the whole party adjourned to the lawn, where dinner had been prepared for them. Merry games of play followed; and after a most happy afternoon, they returned home well satisfied with the day's proceedings.

Fanny Wilson was the daughter of poor but respectable parents. Her father had died when she was too young to remember him; but his widow was most thrifty and industrious, and contrived to bring up little Fanny and her only other child, a boy, three years old, very comfortably. She took the best care of them as far as this world is concerned; but as she felt not the value of her own soul, she thought not, most naturally, of the importance of theirs. Both the children, however, attended Mr Fitzgerald's Sunday school regularly, at least Fanny did, and William until he was twelve years old. He had enlisted a year or two before our story begins. It was a great pang to his poor mother to part with him; but she could never bear to thwart his wishes, so he went.

When Fanny returned home in the evening, her mother was greatly charmed at her success, and not a little proud that her child had carried off the prize. She wondered that Fanny herself seemed to care so little about it; but Fanny was not happy. What Mr Fitzgerald had said about the insufficiency of mere head-knowledge had sunk into her heart; she felt that, however well she might be able to answer at the examination, it could not save her soul, and the thought of her sinfulness weighed on her as it had never done before. One sin especially troubled her. A few days previously, her mother had sent her on an errand to the village, and desired her to hurry back. On her way she met some of her schoolfellows, and stopped so long to talk with them, that, fearing her mother would be angry with her for having delayed, she told her on her return that she had met Mrs Fitzgerald, who had sent her a message. Mrs Wilson, who was very grateful to Mrs Fitzgerald for many acts of kindness, believed the story, and said it was not any matter. But alas! it was great matter to poor Fanny. Day after day

she feared she might be found out; and now her heart was so heavy that she longed to confess her fault, but had not courage. She was glad when it was time to go to bed; then, taking her Bible with her, she remembered what Mr Fitzgerald had said, and before reading it, she, for the first time in her life, prayed for the Holy Spirit. But she found no comfort: nothing she read seemed to lighten her burden, and, weary and unhappy, she fell asleep.

The following day was Sunday; but at the Sunday school, which she usually enjoyed greatly, her thoughts wandered so much that her teacher had to reprove her for inattention. How Fanny longed to tell of her trouble! but she was ashamed.

At length the school was over, and all went to church. Mr Fitzgerald took for his text these words in the thirteenth chapter of the Acts: And by Him (Jesus) all that believe are justified from all things, from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses.' He said he thought that the 'all things from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses,' referred to presumptuous sins, sins done deliberately and wilfully, and for such, under the law of Moses, there was not any atonement provided. The command of God respecting such was, The soul that doeth aught presumptuously shall be cut off from his people,' Num. xv. 30. He then asked, was there one person present in that congregation who under that law would not be condemned? there one that had not, and that repeatedly, sinned wilfully and presumptuously? Was there not then any hope? Yes, blessed be God! the gospel made provision even for such; his text said, 'And by Him (Jesus) all that believe are justified from all things.' There was not any sin, however aggravated, that might not be washed away in His precious blood. He was able to save to the uttermost all that came unto God by Him.' The most guilty had only to come to Him, believing His power and His willingness to save, and there was full, free, instant for

Was

giveness! The very moment a poor sinner came to Jesus, that moment his sins were blotted out, cast into the depths of the sea, and would no more be brought to remembrance. Then in God's name, as his ambassador, he invited every weary, heavy laden sinner present to come to Jesus that day for pardon and for peace.

The tears flowed fast down Fanny's face as she heard those blessed tidings. It was good news indeed for her. Her heart, like Lydia's, was opened. She took Jesus at His word; she accepted the pardon so freely offered, and instant peace was the result. She wondered she had not known it all before; wondered she had not cared for her Saviour; for now her whole heart seemed gushing with deep and grateful love to Him who had done such great things for her. When she reached her little room she tried to pray, but words would not come; nor were they needed. He who that day had made her 'a new creature,' said, 'Behold she prayeth,' and the angels sung a louder and a deeper hallelujah as the tidings reached them that another sinner had been washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb.'

When she opened her Bible, and read it, it appeared almost like a new book to her,—so plain and simple seemed the words which but the night before she had thought so strange and difficult. Again and again she read the verse that had brought peace and comfort to her soul. While so engaged, she heard her mother's step approaching; she prayed for courage, and half hiding her face, she said, as she saw her mother come in, 'Oh, mother, I am so sorry, but I told you a lie the other day. I was afraid you would be angry at my staying out so long, so I told you that Mrs Fitzgerald sent me a message, and I had not met her at all. Won't you forgive me, mother? I am very sorry.'

"Why, child, what a fuss you make about it!' replied Mrs Wilson; is this what you have been fretting about? I suppose it is not the first lie you have told in your life. Come, stop crying, and dry your eyes, and come down

to supper; but take care, the next time I send you out, that you come home directly.'

It pained Fanny much to hear her mother speak thus, but she could not explain what she felt; so she did not say anything, but followed her mother down stairs.

Mrs Wilson was a very passionate woman, and though very fond of Fanny, was at times harsh and unkind to her; but it seemed easy to bear this now. With the peace of God in her heart, and her precious Bible to tell her of her Saviour's finished work, she felt as if nothing could make her unhappy again; and if ever tempted to make a cross or undutiful answer, one look to the Lord Jesus for help was sufficient to enable her to restrain it.

Thus the time passed on till Fanny was about sixteen, when Mrs Fitzgerald offered to take her as nursery-maid at the rectory. She was charmed at the prospect of living there; for where could she be so happy as under the roof of him who had been the means of leading her to Jesus?

But she was not destined to remain there long. Her place in the many mansions' was prepared for her, and Jesus summoned her home. She caught a heavy cold, which fell on her lungs, and though every care was taken of her, she was soon in rapid consumption. She knew that she had only a few weeks to live, but she rejoiced in the thought that she would soon see Jesus face to face, soon be 'for ever with the Lord.' Death had not any terrors for her. Her only anxiety was about her mother and brother; and Mr Fitzgerald comforted her with the hope, that the Saviour who had mercy upon her would have mercy also upon them. He promised constantly to visit poor Mrs Wilson, and also, at Fanny's urgent request, that he would send her much-loved Bible to her brother; and with weak and trembling hand she wrote his name in it, and marked with red ink some passages that she thought peculiarly suitable to him. Soon after she fell asleep in Jesus, in sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection.

Mr Fitzgerald did not lose any time in fulfilling his promise of sending the Bible to William, who was quartered at Chatham, and with it he forwarded a long letter, telling him of his sister's peaceful death, and of her earnest hope that that Bible might be to him, as it had been to her, 'a lamp unto his feet, and a light unto his path.'

The little parcel reached William amid all the hurry and bustle of preparing to embark with his regiment for the Crimea. He had been greatly attached to his sister, and was very much touched by Mr Fitzgerald's account of her death, and the gift of her well-read Bible, which he determined to take with him. As he first opened it, his eye fell on a red mark at the sixth chapter of Ephesians, where he read, 'Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.' "Why,' said he, what does this mean? What has the Bible to say to armour? I thought it was only for parsons and old women, who know little enough about armour or fighting. And as to "wiles," I'm like to know soon enough what the wiles of the Russians are; but "the wiles of the devil," why, I thought he was safe enough in hell. I must see after this, but I haven't time now.' So saying, he put up his Bible in his knapsack, and answered the bugle call, which summoned him to parade.

A few days later his regiment embarked; and as soon as order was in some measure attained, he wanted to find out about the armour; so, seeking a quiet place where he would be free from observation, he took out his Bible and again read the passage. 'Well,' he said, as he went on, this is the strangest armour I ever heard of. I wonder what kind of fighting it would be good for, and what the devil can do to us!' As he turned over the leaves he saw another red mark opposite the words: 'If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not.' 'That's plain, anyway,' he said; 'I lack wisdom, sure enough, so I'll ask for