are not what you were; but turn to God whilst you can, and be kind to your mother." He then turned away. Mr. Forley read the parting prayer, to which the sick man said Amen, and with one deep sigh he died.

Hal was truly shocked and grieved. He resolved to begin afresh, and by the help of this sorrow and Mr. Forley's advice, he went on steadily, and succeeded in keeping his father's business and supporting his mother. Very soon, however, one of his old companions came to stay with a friend at Burton. Hal avoided him at first; but Dixon would not be put off so easily, and went to see Hal so often, that at last they got to the old footing again, and were friends as before. Hal's mother saw this with sorrow, and begged her son to shun this acquaintance, and to promise that he would not go with him to the Waggon and Horses public house. Hal promised the last, and not the first. He might just as well have not promised either; for how can a man who hears swearing day after day, without reproving it, and who is a friend to great sinners, keep himself from going further and further in wickedness? Hal was now become acquainted with several other idle youths who knew Dixon, and fast grew worse and worse. At last he was laughed out of his promise, and went to the Waggon and Horses with Dixon. When once he had done this, he seemed to lose all hope of doing better, and all shame. He was there constantly, and was very seldom sober. He never went to Church, never saw anything of his mother more than he could help, and became a notoriously bad man.

Hal's business now fell off. Some of the farmers, who were tired of his neglect and general conduct, took away their work to the market town; and after a while, another wheelwright, hearing there was an opening for one, came and set up against him, and got away nearly all his business.

Poverty, misery, and vice now hung about the once beautiful cottage of Henry Blain. The rose hung down, the fence was broken, the thatch was off, the gate hung on the ground. Hal's mother sat working in the window; she never went out except to Church, and could not speak to her neighbours. They all saw how much altered she was, and tried to comfort her; but she always kept her feelings to herself, and did not like to see them.

One day Hal came in drunk and fell upon a chair, which gave way and threw him heavily on the floor. The fall made him sober, and when he rose he saw his mother going back to her seat at the fire which she had left to help him. He looked at her and saw that she was deadly pale.

"Mother," he said, "what is the matter?" She did not answer.

"Are you ill, mother? What is the matter?" "You," she said.

"I know, but I am afraid you are ill."

"Yes, I am ill. I am dying, and you are killing me."

one.

As she said this she leaned back in her chair and seemed to faint. Hal was now frightened and went out for help. He could find no His neighbours, who had seen him drunk just before, did not answer him, and it was some time before he could get any one to come with him. At last an old woman who was a nurse came, and he sent a lad for the doctor. When the doctor arrived he found the nurse fanning Hal's mother and rubbing her hands. He looked at her and felt her pulse, and shook his head. She was dead.

For some days after this the neighbours thought that Hal Blain would destroy himself. He would speak to no one, and seemed to have some horrible plan in his mind. Mr. Forley was away when this happened, but as soon as he returned he went over to the cottage and found Hal there. He did not rise up to speak to the Vicar, but only said "Good day, Sir," and kept his eyes shut, leaning his elbow on the table. It seemed as if he was turned into stone, and Mr. Forley thought of Nabal.

After a time Mr. Forley succeeded in getting Hal to speak, and found that he was in despair, that he had no hope of mercy, and hated his life. He cursed himself, though he had brought curses enough upon his soul already, and was as a man lost.

In a few days Mr. Forley's constant warning and advice was suffered to make a change in him. Hal was softened and cried like a child. He could hardly bear any one to speak to him. Everything was like a dagger to him. His state cost the Vicar much anxiety, and made him offer many prayers to God for his poor wandering sheep; and at last he had the great happiness of seeing that Hal was truly penitent. Still, he knew what a fickle and changeable heart the poor man had, and he could not but fear lest even then he should fall away.

Often and often therefore he entreated him to be watchful; he bade him think of the dreadful words about those who fall away; to remember, when he was in danger of yielding to the laughter or persuasions of his bad companions, the SAVIOUR's words, "Whosoever is ashamed of Me and of My words, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed when He shall come in His own glory and in His FATHER'S, and of His Holy Angels."

Another trial assisted to humble Henry Blain, one which would have been heavier if he had not been penitent: his business had so fallen off, owing to his course of life, that he could not keep it up any longer, and he was obliged to work as journeyman to his old rival. Even his yard was let to him, and all that remained was the empty cottage, desolate and empty of father and mother, but full of bitter and shameful thoughts and feelings.

Henry Blain is now an altered man: he looks old beyond.

his years, and scarcely ever laughs; he has never married, and probably will not; he works hard for his livelihood, and what he saved by years of labour he spent in putting up a gravestone to his parents, which has on it these words

Here lie the bodies of

HENRY BLAIN, aged 42, and MARY, his Wife, aged 35.
HENRY BLAIN,

Who broke his Mother's heart, put up this stone,
In gratitude and sorrow.

It was not long since Mr. Forley, who was reading the Second Lesson in Church, containing the account of our SAVIOUR'S Crucifixion, saw Henry wipe the tears from his eyes more than once. He did not know exactly why, but Henry's thoughts were these: They set at nought my Redeemer and mocked at Him for me, and I could not bear to be mocked for Him. They pointed at Him as He hung on the Cross for me, and I could not bear the finger of scorn. The thieves derided Him, and I have been ashamed of Him. O that I might never laugh again. I ought to be ashamed to laugh, since I have been so often ashamed of CHRIST for the laughter of fools."

There is one human being, and only one, who is much with Henry. He is not unkind or selfish, but he is sad and silent; but he has one friend. The orphan child of a neighbour who is lodged near him, was once being led away as he himself was. Henry heard what was passing and took the child home; he told it all his past life and all his present sufferings; and by God's grace saved the boy from following in his steps. Henry hopes to get his young friend to lodge with him; but, as it is, he has him often at his cottage, and reads to him from the Bible, and teaches him to be bold, to say No in the fear of GOD, and Yes in the fear of GOD, and to be ashamed of nothing but evil sinful words or deeds.

If Edward Canning lives and grows up, as we now may hope, he will be a happier man than ever poor Henry Blain can be again in this world; for false shame brings true shame and long, long

sorrow.

THOUGHTS FOR S. JAMES' DAY.

AMONG the many instructions which are conveyed by our LORD's words, we may possibly find that they serve to illustrate, in a very wonderful manner, the characters or fortunes of His Saints. Thus when He says, "Blessed are the pure in heart," we may naturally refer the expression to the "Blessed among women," His pure and undefiled mother. Or when He tells us that

"Blessed are they that mourn," we cannot but think of that holy mourner, S. Mary Magdalen, and how blessed she was in her penitential sorrow. So when He declares the different lot in His kingdom of persons similarly circumstanced: "Two men shall be in the field, the one shall be taken and the other left," we are instinctively reminded of what happened to the two brothers, the sons of Zebedee, S. James and S. John, how "one of them was taken," and "the other left." Let us see if these words do not form an appropriate motto for S. James' Day.

It was the pleasure of our Blessed LORD to sanctify the ties of earthly relationship, by choosing brothers in more than one instance into the number of His Apostles: S. Peter and S. Andrew were brothers; so were S. James and S. John. There is something remarkable about each. S. Peter was the first of the twelve in authority; S. Andrew the first called; S. John the first in his LORD's love; S. James the first to suffer martyrdom.

We read in several places of Scripture of these sons of Zebedee. They were brought up together to their father's trade, and were fishermen on the sea of Galilee. They shared the same dangers, enjoyed the same deliverances, and laboured in the same toil for years and years. Their life glided on placidly and smoothly, in honest exertion and brotherly love, till on the shores of their beautiful lake they heard a solemn voice, saying, "Follow Me." There was something about it so awful yet so winning, that they could not turn a deaf ear to its summons. They obeyed.

Yet a little while longer amid their lawful craft and daily occupations, and then they bade adieu to them for ever. The Son of GOD stood confessed before their eyes, and they "left all and followed Him." Freely did they cast their lot with "David's Royal Son." Boldly, too, did they pledge themselves " to drink of His cup," and "be baptized with His baptism."

Thus far their course had run together. So it continued. Each received the Apostleship; and even when the rest were not allowed to be with CHRIST, the brothers followed Him. They only, with S. Peter, saw the glories of His transfiguration, witnessed the raising of Jairus' daughter, and beheld the dreadful agony of their dear LORD, in the bleak garden of Gethsemane.

Doubtless their souls were inflamed with gratitude to God, that having spent their early years together, they were not separated in after life, and that, in their case, their LORD's words were not fulfilled, "I tell you there shall be five in one house divided-two

against three, and three against two." They rejoiced too that called together to be CHRIST's disciples, they were also chosen to be Apostles; that the same office was appointed to eachto preach CHRIST's word and administer CHRIST's Sacraments. May be, too, they looked forward to many years of united labour in the field in which they were. But mark the result. They said "We are able to drink of Thy cup, and be baptized with Thy baptism," fondly deeming that cup and that baptism were the same to every one.

"CHRIST heard, and willed that James should fall

First prey to Satan's rage;

John linger out his fellows all,

And die in bloodless age."

"One

One shortly perished,―

Is not this an illustration of the LORD's saying, shall be taken, and the other left?" the first of the Apostolic body to win the martyr's crown,-and departed to his rest. Years of desolation and bereavement had to pass over the other before he joined his brother in paradise. S. James was "taken" first, S. John "left," till last of "the glorious company of the Apostles."

Satan assaulted S. James furiously, having great wrath, but it was only for a little time. One stroke of the executioner's sword, and the Apostle was at peace. But S. John had to endure a longer and more protracted struggle with the Evil One. First he had to see his brother die, then his fellow-Apostles one by one, and to hear of their frightful torments and cruel deaths. It was his lot to outlive all his friends, to be an old man in the midst of a new generation, and to witness the ravages which heresy was making in the fold. This was his cup, and his baptism. He submitted and waited patiently, till at last, in GoD's good time, he was reunited to his brother.

"Now they join hands once more, above,
Before the Conqueror's throne;

Thus God grants prayer, but in His love
Makes times and ways His own."

In another point of view also, viz., in the circumstances attendant on S. James' death, our Lord's words seem remarkably fulfilled. Herod cast into prison S. Peter as well as S. James. But here again "one was taken, and the other left." S. James was slain with the sword, but S. Peter was released by an angel. We may ask, why this was? why, when there was need of labourers in the vineyard, one of the foremost and most zealous was removed from his work? why was S. James "taken" at such a critical