fain s e I tri ounted to uldering c d party's emedied nexperie it, she t door-1 to bird's be some d at the t The d not and 4 ever betre hangs that he ho could Whoe It was Best for which up the s Ow, regula essie to be med. She liff abore red in the errands her in the and the darkness. And then, almost unconsciously, a vision rose before her eyes of her cousin's face-of its terrible expression of wrath, hatred, remorse, and greed -when it had last glared upon her at the door of Job Oglethorpe's cottage. Oh, how eagerly Jessie longed for the morning! How keenly she felt as all of us feel that night is a time of weariness, and despair, and undefinable fears, while it is the golden day that banishes those evil spirits, and restores us to joy and hope! Once more Jessie betook herself to the upper storey of the lighthouse, not to trim the lamps, which now burnt merrily enough, but, with face pressed close against the pane, to discover, if she could, that first faint glimmer on the eastern horizon which heralds the approaching morn. Yet no; the wind did not howl so fiercely, and it seemed as if the worst violence of the storm were exhausted. Jessie even fancied that the sea no longer rolled in tempestuous fury; but the sky was unbroken in all its blank obscurity, and not a gleam of light pierced through the blanket of the dark. So she again descended into the lower room, sick, faint, and trembling. Looking around on the calm faces of the two sleepers-her father and her sister,—she endeavoured to gain courage from the sight, and to strengthen herself with a grateful recollection of the divine mercy that had hitherto preserved and guided her. After all, her senses might have been deceived. She knew that her mind was highly wrought with the exciting incidents of the night, and it was possible, she thought, that her fears had beguiled her imagination. But at that very moment the knocking at the lighthouse door grew louder, and still louder, and a hoarse voice demanded whether Job Oglethorpe was within. (To be continued.) We would come then, loving Jesus, That we may, this New Year's Morning, Sing Thy tender care and kindness, We, this morn, a New Year enter, When the shades of night are falling, Till we reach our Home above. The There Thy little ones, safe gather'd, ELIZA SAWERS. SKETCHES OF CANADIAN LIFE. NEW YEAR'S DAY. 'The north wind doth blow, And what will poor Robin do then? S Poor thing!' sang little Maud Waterton one cold morning in early winter, as she looked out at the leaden clouds, which hung low and dark over the frozen earth. Within all was cosy and warm. A large stove, crammed with great billets of wood, effectually prevented Jack Frost from making an entrance; and even the chinks in the double windows were filled up so tightly, that every nook and cranny seemed barred against him. He made up for it out of doors, however, as one could see by the icicles, a yard long, which hung from the roof of the wood-shed close by, and by the snow, which was falling fast and thick. 'That song will hardly do for Canada, though,' exclaimed the little girl. I have not seen a bird for weeks except the snow buntings; and I fancy they do not mind the cold.' The boys, who were running races in the garden, 176 Sketches of Canadian Life. warmly clad in fur caps and blanket coats, with capôtes, or pointed hoods, and crimson sashes, shouted merrily as the snow fell faster. 'Hurrah! hurrah!' they cried; 'it is going to be a regular snow-storm, and we shall soon have sleighing, and skating, and all sorts of fun!' 'Oh dear! I wish it would come down faster. These tiny specks will never cover the ground.' 'Don't be too sure, Maud,' said Cousin Dorothy. 'We shall see what the little specks can do to-morrow morning.' And true enough, the tiny flakes came down softly and silently, one by one; and little by little the snow was piled up, pure and glistening-on the ground, on the house-tops-on the fences, until every tree, and plant, and blade of grass was wrapped in the warm white mantle which God provides, to protect it from the deadly cold of those northern winters. 'Who would have thought it?' said Maud. 'I ex'pected to see great feathery flakes fall thick and fast, before the world would be white as it is now.' 6 'Ah! my child,' said Mrs. Waterton, we are apt to forget the power of little things. You know that "Little drops of water, For three days the snow continued falling. On the fourth the sky was clear and blue, and the sun shone brightly as on a summer's day, making the snow-crystals glitter like diamonds, as they hung in feathery plumes on the bending boughs of the fir-trees. And now began the music of the sleigh bells, ringing out, sweet-toned and clear, on the keen frosty air, as sleighs, and cutters, and fast Dard Sketches of Canadian Life. 177 humbler lumber-carts' passed along the high road into the town. Endless are the delights of a Canadian winter. True, the cold is intense-much colder than anything we experience here in the 'old country;' but the days are so bright, and the snow beneath one's feet is so crisp, and clean, and dry, that instead of being dreaded, winter is hailed with delight. Perhaps one reason of this is to be found in the fact that there are so few poor people in the country. No one who has head or hands, able and willing to work, need be in want; and therefore a shivering, tattered child, or a poor, starving mother, with her baby in her thin arms, is hardly ever known, though they 1 Lumber-wood cut out in lengths for burning. • M |