ever together; and he sought my counsel with increasing earnestness, now that he was separated from other familiar guides. I knew that I was owned and felt by him as a "lamp to his feet, and a light to his path." And it was very pleasant to find that the influence I constantly exercised over him, not only inspired him with courage, and perseverance in overcoming difficulties, and cheerfulness in the duties of life; but also gave him favour among strangers, who felt drawn towards him with love and sympathy.

My great Master is infinitely wise and kind. He does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men; but like as a father pities his children, so he pities them that fear him. But he is not bound to give an account of himself, nor more than general reasons for all that he does, or permits, in his righteous

government.

My young owner was suddenly attacked with disease. "In the morning" he had "flourished and grown up ;" and before "evening," while indeed it was yet day, he was cut down, and withered."

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One day, after a sleepless night burning, throbbing pain, he with difficulty arose and left his room, to return to it no more. For several days I was left in solitude; and then a stranger's hands replaced my mute companions and myself in the box in which we had formerly travelled; and when the light again broke upon me it was in an old familiar home.

C

My young owner was on a bed of suffering, consumed by fever; but his eyes brightened with intelligence when he saw me; and it was not long before I was summoned to his side. He could hold but little communication with me, however, at that time. A few words-only a few words.

Many days passed away-days of watching, anxious care, of sorrowful foreboding, of parental agony.

Then came hope of relief. The hot burning fever seemed vanquished; and strength, strength only, was wanted (so they said) to renovate the wasted frame, and bring back the soul from the borders of the grave.

That strength never came; and hope gradually died away, though not entirely.

My young owner lingered, week after week, and month after month. He had risen from his bed of sickness, but not invigorated. Languor and sickness, and pain and weariness were his constant attendants. Change of scene and air were sought for him; he travelled—and he returned unstrengthened.

Shall I tell how patiently he suffered; how lovingly he looked when words were too faint for

utterance;

"And that kind smile which seemed to say,
'Why cannot ye restore me ?'”.

Shall I tell how, amidst it all, my young owner's mind and soul gathered strength and maturity from day to day; how actively he employed every hour

in storing and arranging knowledge; and how his intellect ripened and expanded, till he seemed as one who had traversed a long journey of mortal experience, rather than as having only set a few steps forward in the race of life? I will not dwell on this, but pass to what more concerns myself.

I was never parted from him, then. He sought my counsel and guidance, and listened to my encouragements, esteeming me "above all riches," and the hopes and prospects I inspired above life itself.

Sometimes he was sorrowful; and the thought of "the dark valley"-" the valley of the shadow of death"-appalled him; but then he sought relief in prayer, and, clinging to the "rod and the staff," they comforted him.

My last engagement with him was to recount the life and death and resurrection of Him who is the first and last-the beginning and the ending—the sum and substance of my message to man. By the mouth of my four witnesses, I substantiated the truths on which my young owner's hopes were founded. Four times I repeated, in daily communications, as he was able to hear and "inwardly digest" them in his soul, the story of His loving compassion and rich mercy, who, "though he was rich, yet for your sakes became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich."* And arriving at length at the close of my oft-repeated, and well

* 2 Cor. viii. 9.

remembered, and fervently-believed, and long-loved narrative of our Saviour's sufferings and triumph over death, sin, the grave, and hell itself, I summed up the history by saying "And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written."

These were my last words to him. My services were thenceforth unrequired. Suddenly and unexpectedly at the last, the Great Master's voice was heard softly and tenderly saying, "Come up hither." And then the fetters were snapped asunder which bound the gentle, loving one to earth: and now the lamp, which had guided his feet and lighted his steps through a dark and sorrowful world, was no longer required. There, in the happy and blessed land, "they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever."+

Many months passed away; and then, in remembrance of my late owner, I was presented to a young man, a relative of the family in which so many of my happy years had been passed. The reception I met with must be reserved for another chapter in my eventful history.

*John xxi. 25.

+ Rev. xxii. 5.

CHAPTER III.

THE YOUNG MAN.

I was received by my new owner with assurances of deep respect, and was speedily conveyed by him to his home. When we arrived there, he took me into his room, and, without permitting me to address him, he placed me on a shelf, and immediately went away. I was for a long period neglected here, for my possessor very rarely troubled me. Indeed, for many weeks I was constrained to be mute, and knew what it was 66 to hold my peace even from good." I need not say that my sorrow was stirred; for I could clearly perceive that, though my services had not been refused, I was in reality held in light esteem by the young man into whose hands I had fallen. Even in affairs of the greatest importance, when my advice and assistance would have been of the highest value, I was thrust aside with evident contempt.

It was not difficult to find causes for this. I knew that, to many, my communications are always considered dull and troublesome; and I plainly perceived that the companions of my solitude were such as would not, by any means, be anxious to introduce me to our owner's notice. Indeed, I could not fail to draw many melancholy comparisons between my companions on my owner's bookshelves,