He peeped into the bush. Yes, it was, as he had thought, a nest-as pretty as moss and feathers could make it; and with four pink eggs in it, quite warm, and half transparent; he parted the thick branches of the broom, and as he held them so, a sunbeam struck between them, and showed a little hole in the rock close to the ground; it looked, he thought, much as the arch of a bridge might look if the river beneath was so high as to reach within a few inches of the key-stone. He pushed himself further into the broom, and with his hands idly swept down the soft sand, and let it slide down a little rise till it had buried to their heads some tall bluebells that grew there. Then he noticed that the arch, as more of it became disclosed, was very regular for a natural opening, and as the sand slipped away, it revealed the top of what seemed a worm-eaten wooden door, which fitted it with tolerable accuracy. Nearly a foot of this door was visible, when Richard, impatient to know what was behind it, took a stone, and striking the old wood with some force, drove in a small portion of it. He withdrew his head that the light might shine into it, there was a deep cavity, and a narrow sunbeam entering, glittered and trembled upon something which lay on the sand in a heap within, and was red and fiery.

His heart beat quick, his eyes became accustomed to the dim light within, he could see bags lying side by side, one of them had burst open, its contents were large coins-surely gold coins-the sunbeam was red upon their rims-yes, they were gold, they were unknown, they were unclaimed, they were his!

He withdrew his eyes. The broom boughs swung back again and concealed the opening; he sat down, propped his head upon his hands, and a whirling wondering sense of possession, together with a suffocating fear that he should never be able to grasp all this treasure unshared, strove within him, and threw him into such a fever of excitement, that for awhile he could scarcely move or breathe. At last he mastered these feelings, forced himself again into the thicket, and thought he should never be satisfied with staring in again and again at the glittering, gleaming gold.

Incalculable riches, and all to be his own!

Yes, all: he had heard of such people as Lords of the Manor,

his master was one down in the south, but Richard did not mean to consider the law, they should all be his own. He would secure them, buy a fine house, and eat, drink, and dress of the very best. He exulted, as in that quiet nook alone he capered and laughed aloud; then he sat down and began to arrange his thoughts.

Let us see, should he open his heart and share them with his brother? Share them! nonsense; no. What had his brother done for him? Why only this-when Richard was out of place this brother gave him two sovereigns out of his own wages, and afterwards he spared with difficulty five shillings more. Now his brother never expected to see it again. Well, Richard decided to exceed his expectations; he would return it, every farthing: possibly he might give him another sovereign besides. Then there were his two sisters. As to the elder, she certainly had been very good to him, she had many children, and worked hard, yet when Richard was taken ill, she had nursed him and sheltered him, and sat up with him at night; she had been a true and tried friend to him. Well, he would reward her; he would send her all his clothes; for of course he should in future dress like a gentleman. He would also send her five pounds. No; what would be the use of that? Her drunken husband would only squander it all away; perhaps, instead of that, he would adopt one of her boysthat would be so good, so generous, it would surely be full payment. Or perhaps it would be better to pay his schooling, and let him live at home; if he were brought into a fine house he might grow presumptuous; yes, it would be better to pay for his schooling, and now and then to send him some cast off clothes. Then there was his other sister. Why she had never done anything particular for him, so there was no reason why he should for her.

"And his parents? It certainly would be his duty to allow them something, and he should do it. His father, as he heard from home, was getting very feeble, and could hardly earn five shillings a week by the chance work he did for the farmers, for he was past regular day labor. His mother had been used to go out washing, but lately she had often been laid up with the rheumatism. A regular allowance should it be? Why look

what a sum horses and carriages cost! perhaps a present each quarter would be better; tea for his mother, and tobacco for his father. Yes, that would be better; his mother could make a little go a long way, and he would send a blanket also. No pledging himself to allowances; he might find that money would not go so far as he expected. Why Squire Thorndyke was always deep in debt, and he had four thousand a year. Sir Thomas Dickson was known to be in difficulties, poor gentleman!

He said free trade had made his means so small. Ah! free trade was a very hard thing; he should find it hard himself when he had land, as of course he meant to have. He would send his parents something sometimes-not regularly-lest it should be supposed that he bound himself to continue it, which he might not be able to do. For of course he should have shares like other people in these railways-he might lose a great deal of money by them, his master had done; he might by such means become quite poor again; and then how cruel it would seem to the old people to stop their money. He would send them something or other as soon as he knew himself what he was worth. Well, he was happy to say he had a generous mind, and did his duty to everybody that belonged to him.”

Thus he sat and reflected till he had decided all this and more; he then peered through once more at his treasures, and having feasted his eyes with it sufficiently, contrived by means of a long stick to pull up two of the gold pieces. They were as large as silver crowns. He handled them, and turned them The whole, now he had part in his power, seemed doubly his own, but he knew that gold was heavy; he could count upwards of twenty of these bags, each, for ought he knew, might contain hundreds of gold pieces; and besides that, jewels glittered here and there within reach of his hand, which he shrewdly suspected to be diamonds.

over.

He heard voices at a distance and hastened to emerge from his thicket of broom, first carefully bestowing the coins and the jewel in his waistcoat pocket. Covetousness grew stronger in his soul, and his breath came quick, and all his pulses throbbed with anxiety, lest he should not be able to secure and conceal the whole of the treasure for himself. The tourists returned, and Richard, as he followed them down the mountain, was so

absorbed, that he was constantly treading on their heels. Afterwards, when he waited at table, his master thought the air must have intoxicated him, for he handed him powdered sugar to eat with his fish, salad with his gooseberry tart, and set a pat of butter on table with the desert. Right glad was Richard when the work of the day was over, and he could retire to think upon his good fortune, and examine his spoils. They had been a very cumbersome possession to him, and had inspired him with an almost irresistible desire to be always feeling in his pocket to ascertain if they were safe, and a constant fear lest they should chink together and be heard.

Now he thought, what must he do? Should he leave his master's service at once, buy some boxes, and going up the mountain every day by himself, bring down by degrees the contents of that little cavern till all was secured? No, that would be a suspicious mode of proceeding; people would think the footman was mad, or if he paid for what he wanted with ancient gold coins, they would suspect, watch, discover, and either betray him or insist upon sharing the spoils. He never doubted that there was a lord of the manor in those parts, and if so he must be very secret, as of course these riches belonged of right to him.

No, it would not do to leave his master at once; far better to go south with him as far as the busy city of B, where he was going to stay with a very learned old gentleman, a friend of his, who had a large collection of curiosities and dusty stones, shells, stuffed animals and other such gear. He should have a great deal of leisure there, and B would be a likely place to dispose of his coins in, for his master would be busy with his friend tapping stones in the country with tiny hammers, magnifying sand, and bottling tadpoles in proof spirits.

(To be concluded next month.)

CHRISTIAN.

"THIS spot is not the spot of his children."-Deut. xxi. 5. "The sins they have committed, form no part of the religion they profess." "Christians are measured by the standard of angels-the world, by that of men." Now, this is unjust, and unphilosophical enough; for the command to repent, and

believe the gospel, extends to "all men every where," so the injunction to perfect holiness, and fulfil all righteousness, is imperative on all rational creatures.

What is the prodigious hue and cry raised by the world against the slightest error or eccentricity in a Christian, but an indirect concession to the purity of the religion he professes, and its general tendency to produce eminent holiness of life?

A FEW WORDS ON THE LORD'S SUPPER.*

A few words may be subjoined on the subject of the exercise of faith as regards THE LORD'S SUPPER. No institute of the gospel has been more misunderstood and more abused than this. The person by whom it is observed should be a genuine believer in our Lord Jesus Christ. All others must "eat and drink judgment to themselves, not discerning the Lord's body."

I. It is not a converting ordinance, but a strengthening and edifying one. It is poison, not food, to an unconverted man. The celebration of it in an unregenerated state, ministers to delusion, and wraps the soul up in perpetual unbelief. There can be no exercise of faith in this ordinance if there be not a principle of genuine belief already in the soul. Let none, therefore, be urged to observe the Lord's Supper, who have not first committed their souls into the Lord's hands, to be redeemed by his blood, and regenerated by his Spirit.

II. And then not only must the person partaking of the Lord's Supper be a true believer, but his observance of the Supper must be an act of his belief. It must itself be an exercise of faith. It must not be a mere formality and bodily ceremony; but while the senses are conversant with the material elements, the mind must be taken up with the authority, nature, and design of the institute.

We copy these admirable remarks from the Rev. J. A. James's "Course of Faith," just published by Hamilton, Adams, and Co. We never take up any of the recent works of this writer, without recalling the language of the Psalmist→→ "He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water,"-so fresh, vigorous, and genial are the fruits, even of his old age. May he be still spared to bless fo many years, the youth of our day.