once more to rouse my hopes. In this case, my friend's plain and honest letter told for good, proving that to write properly and at the proper time is an important duty, the happy result of which can only be fully known to Him who notes the fall of the sparrow.

"Is it possible I may yet succeed?" was a question I often asked myself after reading this letter; and, generally, the answer was, "Doubtless." So I looked up, and pressed on in faith and hope. Nor were my hopes without foundation. True it was, I had been long very ill of a dangerous fever, and was not yet convalescent; nor could I entertain the idea with sufficient confidence, that I should ever be so strong for work even as I had been; but I knew that God in His mercy had blessed the means which had raised me from what was supposed to be my deathbed, to the surprise of even the kind and skilful doctor who so carefully attended me during this severe illness. This, and for nearly the hundredth time, led me to feel assured that I had been spared to be useful, perhaps, more so than ever. It was also true that long, lonely, and anxious watching had done much to undermine the constitution of her whom God had graciously given to bless me. She could not expect again to enjoy health, yet she was still spared to help me, and to nurse our darling children. I had been frequently trodden under foot, and crushed almost as flat as a beetle; but that which gave to me the elasticity, of which the critics were pleased to express their astonishment and commendation, was the conviction that I failed not because I had taken a wrong step, but often because I was overwhelmed by a power which ought not to have existed, it being generally wielded for this purpose by those from whom another influence might have been expected. I was aware that, even where visible success did not crown my efforts, perseverance had overcome many and great difficulties. Often had I severely felt that my labours for bread and labours of love were too much for my physical strength; yet I had seen and enjoyed

their results in after-years. Frequently, from these causes, and others less agreeable, had I been thrown down to the bottom of the social scale, and there left to rise as I might; but glad was I to find that I had, even in the midst of my trials and struggles, been the humble means in God's hand in raising others in the moral scale. In short, whatever the result was, I could thank Him, and congratulate myself that the motive was right.

All this made me hope on and press forward, and it enabled me in some measure to realise the fact that he that hopes helps himself; that, especially on such occasions, the promises of hope are sweeter than roses in the bud. Besides, I could with confidence rely upon the continued help of God, who, amid all my sufferings in body and mind, had graciously and mercifully enabled me to realise the precious meaning, and to feel the pleasant force of the cheering idea so plainly expressed in these simple lines:

"Earthly friends may pain and grieve thee,
One day kind, the next day leave thee,
But this Friend will ne'er deceive thee:
Oh, how He loves!"

II. MY FEARS.

But fears, numerous and strong, would dash in amongst the most refreshing and strengthening of hopes; and I found that though "when the desire cometh it is a tree of life," yet "hope deferred maketh the heart sick." This I felt, but never more keenly and sadly than when I was not trustingly and sensibly leaning on the arm of my heavenly Father. If by any means the eye of faith had been turned aside from Him, as the Giver of every good and perfect gift, fear would creep round me, and cling to me as feathers to tar; and though what I have stated was enough to inspire hope, even in my condition, yet this fear would at times drag me down almost to despair.

downright honest love,-if the object of his affection was more than all the world to him,-if he has felt this so that he must ask her if she would become his till death do them part,—if reflection has proved that the more he thought of her beauty and worth, he felt the effort to put the question required more and more courage, if he has overcome this difficulty, and has waited for the reply,—if every moment was as an hour, and every hour as a day,—if he has felt the blood come to and run from his face, if he at such a time had glanced into the looking-glass and seen his own countenance, now brightened up by the joys of hope, and then overcast by the shadow of fear,—if he has experienced all this, especially the latter, then he knows something of the emotional confusion which often made me reel like a drunken

man.

And what frequently gave a keen severity to such a conflict, was the conviction that the moments of inward peace and solemn stillness, in which my fevered soul found a transient rest, had become fewer and further between than they had been before this crisis. Day after day I felt I was becoming so much more sensitive to the terrible pangs of fear, and that which caused it, that I became astonished at, and afraid of, my mental state. It really seemed as if the all but mortal sufferings of the past had at last so weakened me that I could no longer bear up under the crushing pressure. Even when the blessed intervals enabled me to reflect upon the past proofs of God's matchless tenderness and soothing sympathy, I would all of a sudden sigh, as if I doubted His many precious promises.

Nor was I always alone in this state of mind. We had often noticed, and rejoiced in the fact, that when I was weak, my helpmate was strong, or at least not so weak, and when she was weak I was the stronger, and so we were able to help each other; but at this stage we more than once seemed to give way together. "I feel I am sinking," had been the suppressed ejaculation of each heart; and on one occasion, being much de

pressed, and fearing lest I had been depending more on man than on God, she, observing the depression, said, "Surely we are not to sink now. What would become of our bairnies? He who has brought us through the past, is able and willing to help us in the future. He is the same yesterday, to-day, and for We do not know what another week may do."

ever.

These were precious words, and timely spoken. God blessed them, and by His help we were enabled again to look our difficulties in the face, and to become as determined as ever to do battle to the last moment, in the hope that we, in some measure, might again be the means, in God's hand, of helping "to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free."

III. SYMPATHETIC INQUIRY.

At last some copies of my new book-the "Prize Autobiography "-came from the binders.

I had a number of private subscribers as well as booksellers' orders, and I resolved to supply the former out of "lot the first ;" but how to get them posted was the question.

To my joy, one of the Edinburgh booksellers gave a practical answer by incidentally offering ready cash for five per cent. off. Most gladly did I comply, and lightly did I come home, not only with postage-stamps, but cash besides. With all freedom of conscience we could apply those few shillings to our own use, because they did not interfere with the orders given in security to the paper-manufacturer and the printer.

After supplying "the trade" and the subscribers, I sent copies to the press, and anxiously, almost impatiently, did I look for the notices. Perhaps it was weakness on my part, for the strongest are weak at times. I felt as if I should fall under adverse criticism. However, I was not put to the test, for hardly could a book meet with a more unanimous approval. Amidst

this rare harmony, there was only one jarring note, and that was sounded after I was able to listen to it. This was not so much in relation to the book as to the "self-educated struggler," as the critic was pleased to call me; and even he declared the work "possessed the interest which must needs attach to all simple annals of the poor.'

A few copies were also posted-1. To those who had shewn a willingness to help me in my previous struggles; 2. To those for whom I entertained a high respect because of the interest they manifested on behalf of the working classes; 3. To those who I hoped might be able, directly or indirectly, to help me to obtain employment.

Finding I had one copy left of the number laid aside to give away, I asked my private counsellor to whom she thought I might send it. "To the Queen, she will read it," was the ready reply; and, suiting the action to the suggestion, the copy was soon wrapt in paper and addressed, per book-post, "To Her Majesty the Queen, Windsor Castle."

With few exceptions, the copies thus sent were acknowledged, but some there were who manifested a deeper interest in the narrative than others. It was then that "the postman's knock " would make our hearts beat quickly. I use the plural here, because our boy, though young, had had his wits sharpened by poverty, so that he, and even his sisters, at times joined with their mother in the anxiety I felt when the rat-tat would make me start as if frightened. All had learnt to take a considerable interest in the correspondence. Sometimes the young ones would rush to open the door, even before that important messenger, the postman, had time to give the usual rat-tat. It was an interesting sight to see them peep curiously at the letter before giving it up.

In all cases in which I sent a note with the book to either of the parties named, I made it my duty most distinctly to state that it was work—and, if possible, congenial work—that I looked