This childish talk made a painful impression on me. Polly is growing up; Jane is eighteen. What prospect have I of ever being able to provide for the poor girls? Jane is a lovely creature, modest, and well-educated; but everybody in Cricklade knows how poor she is, and it will be difficult for her to find a husband. Now-a-days, an angel without money is not thought half so much of as a devil with a sackful of guineas. The only advantage that Jenny gets from her sweet face is, that she is kindly treated wherever she goes. The other day, when she carried the grocer his money, did he not make her a present of a pound of almonds and raisins; and assure her that he was much grieved at being forced to take the money from me; and that, if I chose to employ him again, he would give me credit till Easter? He never said as much to me! But if anything were to happen to me, who would protect my unfortunate children?.. Who but their Heavenly Father, and their own good name, which may procure them some honest service? Let me not torment myself about the future.

December 26.-These last have been two painful days. Never have I passed so sad a Christmas. I preached five times in the two days, and in four different churches. The roads from one village to another are dreadful; the wind howled, the rain fell in torrents. I begin to feel that I am no longer young. I am not as active or as cheerful as I used to be. Perhaps living so much upon potatoes and vegetables, and drinking nothing but water, has made me thinner and weaker than I used to be.

I dined both days with Farmer Hurst. People are more hospitable in the country than in towns; it is more than six months since anybody has thought of asking me to dine with them here. What plenty! what profusion! Ah, if my poor daughters had only been with me! Could they but have had the remnant of the farmer's feast to celebrate their Christmas! However, they have had some cake for their share, which they are enjoying famously at this moment. How lucky it was, that I had courage, when the farmer and his wife pressed me to eat, to say that, if they would allow me, I should like very much to take some cake home to my daughters. These excellent people made me up a large parcel of good things, and, as it was raining furiously, sent me home in a covered cart. Certainly one ought to be content if one has enough to satisfy hunger and thirst, but it is impossible to deny that a good dinner is a very comfortable thing. One feels more in charity with the whole world; one's ideas are more liberal and enlarged.

December 27.-This has proved a most joyful day; but we must learn moderation even in joy. This is a lesson which I must teach my daughters; and therefore I have laid aside, unopened, the packet of money which has just reached me from Fleetman. I will not break the seal till after dinner. My lasses are true daughters of Eve; they are dying with curiosity to know what Fleetman says: they have studied the direction over and over again, and take up the packet every minute to examine it anew. To say the truth, I am more astonished than pleased. I lent Mr. Fleetman but twelve shillings, and now, from the superscription, I find he has sent me five pounds sterling. He must have met with some extraordinary good luck.

What a mixture of joy and sorrow is this life! I called this morning on Squire Fieldson, the magistrate, to endeavour to ascertain the truth of a shocking report which reached me yesterday, that Colonel Brooke, of Wottonbasset, had cut his throat. The extreme disorder of his affairs was said to be the reason of this dreadful act. He was a distant connexion of my late wife's, and some years ago I was induced to become security for him for the sum of a hundred pounds, and he still possesses my bond to that amount. The poor man has met with many misfortunes, and latterly has taken to drinking. Mr. Fieldson has rather quieted my anxiety, although the same report had reached him;

but he seems to think it quite impossible that poor Brooke could have made away with himself, at least no official intelligence has been received, so I came quietly home, praying to the Almighty to spare me this new misfortune.

Then it was, as I approached the house, that Polly rushed to meet me, almost breathless with delight, screaming out, "A letter from Mr. Fleetman, father, enclosing five pounds!-it is written on the outside; h and there's sevenpence to pay for the postage." And, before I had put down my hat and stick, Jenny, with a face as red as fire, came and put it into my hands. The children seemed really out of their wits with joy. However, I rejected the scissors, which they produced, to open the packet without breaking the beautiful seal, and said, "Now, you see, my children, how much more difficult it is to bear great joy with self-possession and || calmness, than great sorrow or distress. I have often wondered at your cheerfulness when we were enduring many bitter privations, and scarcely knew how we should provide for the morrow. Now the first smile of fortune quite turns your little heads; so, to punish you, the packet shall not be opened till after dinner." In vain Jenny assures me, she is not half so much pleased with the money (much as we wanted it) as at the excess of Fleetman's gratitude, and his honourable conduct; she says she is only impatient to know what he says, and whether any good fortune has befallen him. I persist, however, in my determination. This childish curiosity must be punished.

The same Evening.—Our joy is quickly changed to grief. The money and letter were not from Fleetman, but from Dr. Snarl, who informs me, in answer to my letter, that, from Easter next, my duties as his curate cease. He tells me I shall have sufficient time, in the interval, to look out for another curacy; to facilitate which, he not only encloses me the last quarter of my salary in advance, but has given instructions to my successor, if I do not object, to take my duty immediately.

So, then, there was some truth in the reports which circulated in the town, and there may be even some foundation for what I have just heard, that the new curate has received his appointment so speedily, in return for his complaisance in marrying a relation of the rector, whose character was not quite as good as might be wished. So I am to lose my place, and my children's bread, to hide the misconduct of an unprincipled woman!-and I, and my poor innocent girls, are to be turned into the street, because there exists a man base enough to purchase advancement with his own dishonour!

Jane and Polly turned as pale as death when, instead of news from Fleetman, I read out to them the rector's cruel letter; and they found the packet to contain, not the liberal gift prompted by gratitude, but the last and bitter wages of the labour of years. Polly threw herself back in her chair, sobbing aloud; Jane hurried out of the room. My hands trembled so, that the letter fell to the ground. I, however, hastened to my closet, shut the door, threw myself on my knees, and endeavoured to pray, still hearing my poor child's sobs. Soon I arose, consoled and tranquillized, and opened the Bible. The first words on which my eyes fell, were, "Fear not; for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine." (Isa. xliii. 1.) Fear and distrust fled from my bosom, and, raising my hands to Heaven, I exclaimed, "Yes, Lord, I am thine !" Polly's sobs had ceased; I returned softly to the room; but, when I beheld the sweet child kneeling, her hands folded, while a beam of consolation lighted up her face, I went back to my closet, closing the door gently that I might not disturb her. Jane soon entered the room, and I then joined my daughters, who were seated at the window. I saw, by Jenny's red eyes and pale cheeks, that she, too, had bitterly felt this last blow. They both looked timidly in my face; I believe they

"

dreaded to read there traces of despair; but they soon recovered their spirits when I spoke cheerfully to them, and they found ine resigned and comforted. I picked up the money and the letter, and carelessly humming a tune, I placed them in my desk. They spoke no more on the subject; I dared not touch upon it again; kindly and tenderly, they wished to spare my feelings, and I feared to betray my weakness to my children!

December 28.-It is well that we let the first fury of the tempest pass without looking too narrowly into the devastation which it must bring with it. We all passed the night calmly, and we now speak of Dr. Snarl's letter, and of my destitution, as a misfortune which is worse in anticipation than in reality. We form a thousand plans for the future, but no one is exempt from this bitter drop;;—we three must separate! Nothing better can be devised, than that Jane and Polly should find employment in some honest and respectable family, whilst I travel about in search of an occupation, which shall give bread to myself and children. Polly is as gay as ever; she has been chattering about her dream, and the bishop's mitre. She appears to me to reckon almost superstitiously upon this New-year's gift; for my part, I do not reckon upon it; yet it does so happen, that, at times, I think of it. As soon as ever my successor is ready to come to Cricklade, and take the duty, will give up my house to him, and seek my fortune elsewhere. In the mean time, I shali write to-day to two old acquaintances at Salisbury and Devizes, to endeavour to find situations for my daughters. Jane would make an excellent nursery-governess. I will not leave them at Cricklade. In this little place the people are narrow-minded, proud, and selfish;-they think of nothing else now but the new curate. Some condole with me, and regret that I must leave them; but I know not if it is from the heart!

December 29.-I have written to-day to the Lord Bishop of Salisbury, representing to him my melancholy, hopeless state, after being so many years a true and faithful labourer in the vineyard of the Lord. He is said to be a pious and kind-hearted man. May God turn his heart towards me !-for, surely, in the extensive patronage which he has at his disposal, there may be some little corner for me. I do not desire much!

December 30.-Merciful God! is there no end to my misfortunes? Is it really come to this? Is there no shelter for my misery and distress but the walls of a prison? Alas, I see too well that it is inevitable!

My brain whirls round; it is in vain that I strive to recover my former composure. I have not even strength to pray! The shock is too great! Yes, I repeat it a prison is inevitable. I must bring myself to contemplate it without this unspeakable terror. May the merciful Lord have pity on my children! I will not... I cannot tell them.... Oh, that the hand of death might save me from this disgrace! My limbs fail me A cold shudder runs through my veins, the pen drops from my trembling hand

Some Hours later.-At last, I am better. I strove to throw myself on my knees, to pray to my Heavenly Father but I was not myself. I sank upon my bed. I think I slept; perhaps it was a fainting fit. I lay there for three hours. My daughters came in search of me; they covered my feet with cushions; they rubbed my hands, and bathed my face with vinegar. I am still weak in body, but my mind is recovering its tone. All that has passed seems to me as a dream! It is too true that Colonel Brooke has put an end to himself. Squire Fieldson sent for me to tell me there was no longer any doubt on the subject, and that he had left an immense number of debts. He told me that my bond was in the possession of Withell, the linendraper, at Trowbridge, who would probably require its payment immediately: he recommended me to take measures to liquidate the debt, and expressed the utmost commiseration for the distressing position in which I had so imprudently placed myself. Good God! A hundred pounds! How

is it possible for me to raise such a sum? My whole property is scarcely worth a hundred shillings! Brooke was always looked upon as a highly honourable man, and supposed to be in good circumstances; how could I have suspected he would come to such a wretched end? The whole of my wife's little property was spent during her long illness; I was even obliged to sell the small piece of land she inherited from her father, at a price far below its value. Now, I am a beggar !--a beggar, but not free; for if Withell is not generous, if he insists upon immediate payment, what is there to save me from arrest-from languishing the rest of my days within the walls of a prison?

Same day. Evening.- Now am I, indeed, ashamed of my weakness. I, a firm believer in an Almighty Providence, a minister of the word of God, to despair; to weep; to lose my senses; to be so utterly cast down at a blow dealt by His hand, a trial permitted by His mercy and justice! I thank God, I have now done that which is right. I have written to Mr. Withell; I have acknowledged my bond, and at the same time confessed to him my utter inability to meet my obligation; and that he is at liberty to arrest me for debt whenever he thinks proper. If he has any humanity, he will consider my situation, and not proceed to extremities; if not, he may drag me where he will; I will offer no opposition.

When I had performed this duty, I determined to try the courage and strength of mind of my children. I wished to prepare them for the worst. Ah! these girls have surpassed the man in courage; the servant of the altar, in piety and submission to the will of God!

I told them of Brooke's death, of the engagement I was under, and the possible consequences thereof. They listened anxiously and attentively, until I uttered the word, prison.

"To prison!" cried Jane, weeping and throwing herself into my arms; "You, dearest father, the best, the most virtuous of men! What have you done to be thus overwhelmed with misfortune? Let me go to Trowbridge, I will throw myself at Withell's feet, and never rise till he has released you from your debt."

"No, no," said Polly, sobbing, "that would be useless. These tradesmen are all alike. He would not remit one farthing of our father's debt, for all your tears and supplications. I will go; I will bind myself to the linendraper. I will work for him night and day, until the labour of my hands has extinguished the debt."

With such plans as these, they tranquillized themselves by degrees; but they soon comprehended how vain were all their hopes. At last Jane exclaimed :'Why should we form such fruitless projects? Let us at least wait for Withell's answer; if he is inflexible, we must submit. God is present everywhere. He will not desert you, even in a prison. You will perhaps find greater peace there than in the miserable life we have lately endured; for you are innocent, and shame, at least, can never reach you. We two will go to service, and with the labour of our hands will procure you the necessaries of life. I would even beg for you, were there no other resource. It were both holy and sweet to beg for a father! Sometimes we should visit you. Fear not, you should want nothing, we would take good care of you. Oh! do not let us despair."

"Yes, Jenny, you are right;" said her sister, "those only despair, who have no faith in God. I fear nothing. I will be gay, gay as I can possibly be when separated from you and my beloved father."

These conversations insensibly helped to calm me. How right Fleetman was, when he said God had given me two angels to support me through the trials of life!

December 31.-The year is ended. In spite of many storms and troubles, it has been rich in blessings and mercies. True, at times we had nothing to spare;

and accordingly, alighting from our chargers, and leading them down to the most miserable looking vessel possible, we got into it, and after a great deal of difficulty induced our donkeys to enter also. I must say their reluctance to do so betrayed nothing asinine, for it was a very disagreeable style of navigation, as, in consequence of the restlessness of the animals, there was great danger of the boat upsetting every minute, and, to add to our alarm, the dragoman told us that last year a boat had been upset in the same way, and two men and a boy drowned. However, after pulling against a very strong stream for half-an-hour, we managed to reach the opposite side in safety, not before one of the donkeys had nearly tumbled into the water, and all but capsized us. The other side of the river presents a very different appearance to the Cairo one. The instant you get on shore you find yourself in the Desert, and to add to the vraisemblance of the scene, at least fifty half-naked Bedouins are standing on the bank waiting to receive travellers, and to conduct them to the Pyramids.

We now remounted, and the dragoman having selected two Arabs for each of us from the crowd, we proceeded onwards; my two attendants were a most rascally looking couple, one a venerable infidel named Ibrahim, and the other a young man called Ali; these two names they continued repeating to me for about an hour, so that if I should forget who were my men I should sing out those two magic words, and my slaves would appear. These respectable individuals must have been pretty well off for wind, as they ran eight miles without stopping by the side of our donkeys.

We had to pass through two or three little villages and several ploughed fields, as the desert, par excellence, does not begin till about two miles from the Pyramids, though there is very little vegetation long before that. Mr. T. Moore might have flown to the Desert if he liked, but if the Arab tents at all resembled their houses, I must say I should have had no wish to accompany him; and the people are as dirty as pigs. On our way we had to cross a small stream about four feet deep in the middle; over this the men took us on their shoulders, as we could not have ridden. Well, after turning and twisting about the country for eight miles, and going almost as fast as we could the whole way, we arrived, completely worn out by fatigue, heat, and sand, at the sign of the Sphynx's Head. Having sat under its shadow, for it throws one of about forty feet square, admired it, and recruited our strength by eating some oranges, we arose and proceeded on foot to the largest Pyramid, it being impossible for the donkeys to carry us here on account of the sand, and the quantity of little hillocks. After a quarter of an hour's detestable walking we reached the Pyramid, with forty centuries looking down upon us and our donkeys. These ancient gentlemen do not look so large at a distance as one would imagine, but, when close under them, then their really enormous height is seen.

Having again rested ourselves, we commenced the ascent of the Pyramid, assisted by three men each, two to drag us up, and one to shove behind. It was fearful work, some of the stones being four or five feet high, none under three, and very slippery; half way we stopped for ten minutes completely done up. From this we got to the top after herculean struggles, I being first on the summit of these giant steps, and we blessed our stars when we were safely landed at the top of the Stairs of Size; but hardly had we arrived there when those rascally Bedouins began bothering us for Bucksheesh, and sporting the little English they knew, which consisted of "Englishmen bery good," "Bucksheesh bery good," "Englishmen give Bucksheesh." We were however proof to their flattery, and, after having admired the prospect, which is extensive and strange, descended. And oh, that descent! it was a perpetual jump from top to bottom, and, though you may beg and pray the

Arabs to stop, they won't do it,-down you go, shaking and trembling all over from exhaustion. In fact we were all so completely hors-de-combat when we did at last reach the bottom, that we threw ourselves at full length on the sand, and there remained immoveable for at least a quarter of an hour.

At the end of that time we began to revive, and prɔceeded forthwith to penetrate to the interior of the Pyramid, which was worse, we found, than climbing to the top. With the assistance of two or three wax candles, and three men each, we contrived, after crawling and walking half-choked with dust and heat, and continual bumps of the caput, (so that if Mr. Combe or other phrenologists had examined us, they would have found new bumps which, I think, would have astonished them not a little,) to reach a lofty room, where we rested and recovered a little breath. Quite satisfied with what we had seen, or rather felt, we inquired if there was anything else. In reply, they pointed to a little hole about the size of a crown-piece, and told us if we wished to see more they would conduct us through this small passage. To this polite offer we gave a decided negative, not having any desire to crawl on our stomachs for even a quarter of an hour, and spoil our only pair of unwhisperables. We, therefore, returned with joy and gladness of heart, and never were any of us so much delighted as when, having left darkness and dust behind us, we emerged into the open air.

Having thus satisfied our curiosity, and seen all that was to be seen, we thought the next best thing to do was to satisfy our hunger, as we all began to feel a little peckish; so after paying our guides, which, notwithstanding the cravings of nature, was not accomplished in less than half an hour, as they fought and quarrelled about the money like the Kilkenny cats, we sat down in the shade of a large flat stone at the bottom of the Pyramid, opened our hamper, and proceeded to discuss the matériel, which consisted of a cold leg of lamb, two tongues, couple of cold fowls, bread and cheese, washed down with twelve bottles bière, three vin ordinaire, two of champagne (gooseberry I am afraid); and for dessert, oranges, dates, &c. &c.

(To be continued.)

THE WANDERER'S RECEPTION.

CHAPTER IV.

THE afternoon was far advanced before Mary had the satisfaction of seeing her cousin return. She had been watching in the porch for hours, when she caught sight of the horse's head, and, throwing aside the work which her aunt had set her, she ran as fast as she could towards it. She had quite believed that the old man would return that night. When she saw only one figure, she felt quite disappointed, and seated herself on a stone before she reached the cart; presently James called to her, and asked her if she did not want some news.

"I should like to hear how he is, although he will not come back to me. You ought to have waited for him, James."

"It was impossible to do that, Mary, and it is thoughtless of you to fancy I could. You know my mother would have been very uneasy if I had. You had better jump into the cart, and when I get home I will tell you all I can about old Robert."

Mary was obliged to consent to this, but was very impatient to get back, to hear what he had to say. "I am sure, James, Prance might go faster; do make him."

"The horse has had a long day of it, Mary; and I am sure, poor thing! he must be tired; I know I am, and sadly want my supper."

The little girl's impatience, instead of making them (1) Continued from p. 12.