our life are so many visitations from GOD, sent for our discipline. And besides, he said poor Henry's treatment of me not being kind, made it my special office and duty to intercede for him, day by day, and hour by hour; and so he bade me, whenever thoughts of him arose, straightway to send them as messengers up to heaven, to win down blessings on his head. And all remembrance of dreams of happiness I once had with him, the Vicar said, must be converted into supplications that we might meet one day where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, but where the just are as the angels of heaven. And so, Maude, dear, I have done just as he desired; and I cannot tell you how sweet a calm it has shed over my every recollection of your brother. I do pray, and will with my last breath, for that sinless meeting in the kingdom of our LORD; but I do not wish to see him on this earth, for I used to love the sound of his dear voice too well; and I would not have anything hinder me from only listening rather to the Good Shepherd's gentle voice, which His own sheep hear, the Voice of the Beloved."

Maude threw her arms round this child, this lamb,-so happily restored unto the blessed fold, and said, as she kissed her tenderly,

"And you will hear that voice, Nelly darling, ever leading you in safety through this wilderness. The Good Shepherd will never let you wander from Him more. And now I must leave you; for I wish so much to see the Vicar, if possible, to-night, before I go home."

"O, I don't wonder at that, you have been away so long; you will find him still at the school, I am sure, for I saw so many persons waiting for him."

And he was there,-standing_talking to a poor woman at the door of the quiet room where Maude had held so many unforgotten conversations with him. He welcomed her the moment he saw her with one of the rare smiles his people so loved to win from him; and so soon as the almost interminable story of his companion was patiently heard out, and herself dismissed with alms and a blessing, he came quickly forward to Maude.

"Peace be with you," he said, giving her his hand; and Maude felt her whole heart fill with happiness, to be thus restored to this true father's loving care. All her deep despondency, resulting from the examination of conscience, seemed to vanish, in the sensation of trust and confidence which his very presence produced.

"I am glad to see you again, my child," continued the Vicar, "although you look pale and fatigued. You have been well, I trust ?"

"Well in health," said Maude; "but-" she hesitated.

"But troubled in mind-is it not so ?" said the Vicar.

"O yes," replied Maude, hardly able to restrain the torrent of doubts, and fears, and anxieties which were ready to burst from her heart. Yet this was neither the time nor the place, in the open passage, at that hour of the night, to enter on a long detail of her spiritual state. She looked up in his face, certain that he would understand her, and said, “ Christmas-day is so very, very near."

"And you are anxious to be examined for your first Communion," he replied, gently; "you feel uneasy as to your fitness for so awful a gift. Well, do not be distressed; there shall be no delay. You can come to me to-morrow morning, after service, and I will take care to reserve an hour for you."

"Thank you, so much," said Maude, and she left him to walk quickly homewards, feeling that she had already his entire sympathy for her present state of terror and perplexity.

GOING A-CLEMENTING.

In some parts of Staffordshire, it is the custom for children to go out on S. Clement's Day, and collect what trifling sums good natured persons may be disposed to give. This they call going a-Clementing. The following verses were written for a parish where the custom is kept up, to be sung instead of the doggrel usually employed.

IT was about November tide,
A long long time ago,

That good Saint Clement testified

The faith which now we know.
Right boldly then he said his say
Before a furious King:

And therefore on Saint Clement's Day
We go a-Clementing.

Toil in the mines they gave him then
To try the brave old Saint;

And there two thousand Christian men
With thirst were like to faint:

He prayed a prayer,-and out of clay
He made the water spring:
And therefore on Saint Clement's Day
We go a-Clementing.

An anchor to his neck they tied,
And cast him in the sea;

And bravely as he lived he died,
And gallantly went free.

He rests a many miles away,

Yet here his name we sing,
When, all upon Saint Clement's Day,
We go a-Clementing.

Our fathers did it long ago,-
And their request we make :
Good Christians, some small mite bestow
For sweet Saint Clement's sake.
Thus shall his feast be glad and gay
As if it came in Spring:
When, all upon Saint Clement's Day,
We go a-Clementing.

THE FLOWER BASKET.

CHAPTER VI.

JACOB'S VISIT TO HIS DAUGHTER IN PRISON.

THE judge was now not a little embarrassed, and on the third day from the commencement of the trial, he said to the solicitor "We are no nearer than we were the first hour. If I could only see it at all possible that any body else had the ring, I could believe the girl innocent. Such obstinacy in one of such tender years is unparalleled. Yet all the circumstances are so clear against her, it cannot be otherwise, she must have stolen it."

He went once more to the countess, and inquired into the most minute details of the case. He cross-examined Jettchen, and devoted the whole of the day in investigating the affair, and reflecting on each word that Mary had said at her examination. Late in the evening he sent for Mary's father out of prison.

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Jacob," began he, "I am, 'tis true, considered a severe man. At the same time you never could say of me that I acted harshly to any one who I did not consider deserved it. I think you will give me credit for not wishing to take away the life of your daughter. Yet, from Jettchen's evidence on this trial, it is too clear she has been guilty of theft, and, according to the law, she must die. If she would produce the ring, she might be pardoned on account of her youth. If, however, she persists so obstinately and wickedly in denying having taken it, she is lost. Go then to her, Jacob; persuade her to give it back, and I give you my hand as an earnest that then-but only then-mark that! she shall not die, but I will inflict a lighter punishment; I leave all to you! You are a father; if you do not elicit anything from her, what are we to think, but that you are in league with her, and have taken part in her crime? Once more! If the ring is not brought to light, it will fall heavily on you."

Jacob answered: "I will indeed speak to her; but that she

has not stolen the ring, and therefore cannot confess to it, I know beforehand. I will, however, do all I can, and take it very kind of you to allow me to see my poor innocent child before she is executed."

The officer silently conducted the old man to Mary's prison, placed the smoking oil lamp upon the little slab, upon which an earthen bowl with Mary's supper stood untouched, and then went out of the room and closed the door.

Mary lay upon her straw, dozing, her face turned towards the wall. As she opened her eyes and saw the dim glimmer of the oil-lamp, she turned herself round, and perceiving her father gave one loud shriek, sprang so hastily from the bed that her chains rattled, and fell half fainting on her father's neck. He, seating himself with her on the straw, clasped her in his arms; both were silent for some time, their tears mingling together.

At length Jacob began to speak of his commission.

"Ah! father," said Mary interrupting him, "you-you will not surely doubt my innocence ! Oh!" continued she weeping, "is it possible that every body looks upon me as a thief: even my father! Yet, believe me, father, you have not brought up your child to thieving."

"Be composed, dear girl, I believe you!" said her father—“ I was ordered to speak to you in this way." Both were again silent; the old man looked at Mary. Her cheeks were pale and wan, her eyes red and swollen from weeping; her abundance of fair hair, in which she could have veiled herself, hung loosely around her. "Poor child!" said he, "GOD has laid a heavy trial upon you! And I fear-I fear its issue may yet be most terrible! Ah! perhaps-perhaps they will cut off your young

head!"

"Oh father!" said Mary, "that I do not care for. But your grey head-Oh! If I were obliged to see that fall!"

"Fear not for me, dear child," said he; "they will not do that! But for you—I hope certainly for the best-but it might go so far, that

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"Oh !" cried Mary joyfully, interrupting her father, "if that be the case, then the heaviest weight is taken from my heartthen, all is well. Indeed, father, I do not fear death! I shall then go to my GOD, to my SAVIOUR! My mother too I shall see in Paradise! Oh! the very thought makes me happy!" These words sank deep into her poor old father's heart. He wept like a child.

"Well, thank GOD, thank GOD," said he at last, clasping his hands, "that I find you so composed. Though it is hard, very hard, for a decrepid old man, for a loving father so to lose his dearly beloved, his only child, his last prop, his last comfort, the crown and joy of his old age! yet Thy will be done, O GOD," said he

in a sobbing voice. "Thou requirest a heavy sacrifice from a father's heart. To Thee I make it willingly. Take her to Thyself! Into Thy hands I resign my dearest earthly treasure; she will be better off with Thee. To Thy boundless and eternal love, O Heavenly FATHER, I commend her. Thou wilt ever care for her. Ah, 'twere better, dear Mary, that you should die innocent by the hand of the executioner, than that I should live to witness your falling into sin and vice, which indeed might be the case in this world. Forgive me for thus speaking. You are a good child, and through faith in the blood of CHRIST, prepared to take your place amongst the saints in Paradise; but in the world are many, many temptations; we are prone to sin, even angels fell. Die then, if it be God's holy will you should, in peace. You are innocent. Your death will then be a happy one, although it may be by the sword. Like an unspotted lily, you will be transplanted from a rough soil into a better land-to Paradise!"

Burning tears interrupted his utterance. "Yet one word more!" said he after a pause. "Jettchen has been a witness against you. She protested on her oath, that she saw the ring in your hand. Her evidence, (should you be executed,) would be the cause of your death. But-you forgive her, do you not? You do not take any hatred with you into the next world? Ah! you are much happier here, on this straw, in this dark damp dungeon, loaded with chains, than she is in the lordly castle dressed in silk and lace, surrounded by splendour and honour. Far better is it to die innocently, as you will, than to live dishonourably, as she does. Forgive her, Mary, as your SAVIOUR forgave His enemies. You do forgive her, do you not? you wish to do as your SAVIOUR did ?"

Mary said she forgave her with all her heart.

"And now," continued her father, as he heard the officer coming, "I commend you to GOD and His mercy-to your SAVIOUR, Who, although innocent, was crucified, like a malefactor! And should you never see my face again, should it be the last time that I look upon you, yet I shall soon follow you to Heaven! for this blow-I feel I cannot long survive it."

The officer entering the room, admonished the old man to go. Mary would have kept him back, and wound him fast in her arms, but her father gently disengaged himself from her clasp, whilst she sunk upon the straw unconscious.

Jacob was again conducted to the judge.

Entering the room, and raising his right hand to Heaven, quite beside himself, he exclaimed, "Before GOD ALMIGHTY, I protest; she is innocent, my child is no thief!"

"I wish I could also believe so," said the Judge ; " but, alas, I