Alas! the letter still lay unopened in Dora's pocket. "Lizzie is very ill," Hester explained; "her health has been failing for months. And she pines to see your face again, Dora. I wrote to prepare you for my coming, and then set off, leaving Lizzie in the care of a friend; I knew that you were timid, dear, and would not like to travel alone."

Overcome with shame, sorrow, and consternation, the young girl hid her face in her hands, while Hester strove to comfort her. When she had controlled herself and was able to conduct her sister to the house, she ventured to look round in search of Mr. Redmond; but he was nowhere to be seen; he had slipped out of the garden unobserved, and, after taking a hasty leave of Mrs. Addison, had gone away.

On the day following, Dora accompanied Hester to her old home, there to learn many sad, but salutary lessons. Lizzie was drawing near the borders of another world, quietly and peacefully passing away from earth to enter into the everlasting

rest.

"I have been thinking of you and praying for you, Dora," she said. "The good seed has been carefully sown in your heart; do not let the birds of the air'-the pomps and idle pleasures of this world-take it away. Let me feel that I shall meet my darling sister in heaven. Some day, Dora, you will stand where I am standing now, with earth behind you, and eternity before you. And you will wonder then that you ever concerned yourself so much about the trifles you must leave behind. All your life will be like a tale that is told. Will you not be happy, if in that hour you can say, 'For me to live is Christ, to die is gain'?'

Then Dora knelt by her sister's side, and poured out all the story of her folly and weakness. And Lizzie prayed with her, pleading that the Spirit Divine might comfort this sorrowful human spirit, and sanctify and strengthen it in the battle of life.

After Lizzie's death, Dora was very reluctant to leave Hester and go back to her luxurious life with Mrs. Addison.

"Let me stay with you, Hester," she urged. "Too much prosperity is not good for me. Perhaps I shall get again into my bad habits, and forsake the right way, if I am petted and spoiled."

"You must return to your adopted mother," answered Hester. And then she explained that she was about to leave England. She was engaged to be married, and was going abroad with her husband.

"We shall not be rich, Dora," she said. "I must still be a hard-working woman. We cannot take you with us to a foreign land; you are unfitted for a life of hardships and privations. And remember, dear, that God can take care of you in all time of your wealth,' as well as 'in all time of your tribulation.""

But the parting was a very sad one; and Dora was wont to say afterwards that it seemed as if God had punished her for disowning her sisters, by taking them both away from her.

She went back to Mrs. Addison, and was soon surrounded again by all the pleasures and temptations of a gay and fashionable life. Yet these worldly influences did not regain their former hold upon her heart. Her Bible was no longer neglected; her prayers were no longer cold and hurried and formal; nor did she feel the same vain exultation in the consciousness of her beauty. I do not say that her natural faults were entirely rooted out; they still continued to trouble her at times, cropping up when she least expected them. But the good seed grew and flourished, bearing a plentiful harvest; and there was, therefore, but scanty room for noxious weeds.

As Dora grew older, and gained courage and experience, the beauty of her Christian example began to be felt and noticed by others. She made no parade of her religion; indeed, it could not

be said that she talked much about it. Now and again the " word in season was gently spoken, but it was always uttered humbly, and never gave offence to those for whom it was meant. With her young companions she was a general favourite; in a quiet way, the influence which she had gained over them was used for their good; and many of them were led, through her means, to walk in that narrow way which leads unto everlasting life.

Had she forgotten Mr. Redmond? is the question that will naturally be asked. She never did forget him; although since that night when she had told him the falsehood he had never visited Mrs. Addison's house. From their first meeting he had taken a deep interest in Dora; he had thought that in her he had found an innocence and freshness of character for which he had often sought in vain. But the sudden discovery of her untruthfulness was a shock that could not be overcomeappointment that was never entirely lived down.

-a disAmongst Mrs. Addison's large circle of friends there was not one who could win from Dora the esteem she had yielded to him. And yet she could not feel surprised that their intimacy had so suddenly ceased. A noble and worthy heart was lost to her for ever, through one false word.

Although she had long ago repented of that sin, and knew that by One above it would be remembered no more, the results of her misdeed were still painfully felt. There was nothing left for her but to wait patiently for that new and better life wherein she might meet her estranged friend again. On earth he had known the transgression; in heaven he would know the repentance that had followed it.

THE ECCENTRIC STEWARD.

By Miss L. M. Whately, of Cairo.

WAS once spending a Christmas holiday in the country many years ago, and as the village was a quiet place, and afforded little variety in winter time, my friends, by way of diverting me, asked me to visit a beautiful park in their neighbourhood, and told me, if I liked, they would show me the castle, and let me see the annual distribution of gifts to the poor, which was to take place the next day, " for," said they, "the nobleman who owns it is both rich and benevolent." I willingly agreed to this plan; and accordingly next morning we walked across the fields, crisp with frost, and soon arrived at a fine, comfortable-looking building, whose large hall-door stood open, and the steps were already crowded with a number of poor persons. A man with a good-natured expression of face and a tall, imposing figure, was standing at the door with several servants behind him, loaded with bundles of warm clothing, and baskets of bread and meat, while a blazing fire was evidently burning within, the ruddy glow of which seemed to dispute for pre-eminence with the colder beams of the December sun, which was struggling through the mist.

A little order having been made by the porter and gardener, who were on each side of the steps, a troop of poor old men came up at a sign from one of the servants, and the person whom I took to be the kind donor stepped forward and handed to one a greatcoat, to another a woollen comforter, to a third a blanket, and so on; they were then desired to stand aside till the time came for distributing the eatables, and up came the old women for cloaks and gowns. Just as the foremost was holding out her hand for a warm red cloak, some one put a note into that of the gentleman

who was giving it, and he paused to read it, saying to my friend, who happened to stand near him, "This is from our clergyman; I see he begs me on no account to neglect giving a cloak to Betty Johnson."

"Yes, sir, I'm Betty," said the old person who had brought the note.

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"I see he says you have a claim on account of faithful service to his lordship in your youth, as housemaid," said the gentleman, looking at his note. Well, I can't neglect his advice; so here;" and he pulled the red cloak out of old Polly's wrinkled hands, which had clutched it tremblingly, and handed it to Betty.

“That is an odd way of settling matters," I whispered to my friend.

“Oh, that is the steward," said my friend, in reply, “and we all know what a queer man he is.”

"How ? are these gifts not his own ?"

"Oh no; he is only a steward; but the selection and distribution is entirely left to his discretion—in fact, he has a good sum allowed him, over which he has power to devote what he thinks fit to charity, and the remainder for his own use; his lord trusts him very fully. But look now, he is actually taking a coat off the shoulders of poor rheumatic old Ben, to give to Tom, the sexton; it is true both want coats; it is a hard case for them."

"Hush," said I, "he will hear us; and look, they are now bringing up the provisions."

As we spoke, two men brought immense baskets and set before the steward, who began handing out loaves and joints of beef very promptly, and received many thanks from the people, though some were secretly murmuring about the loss of their clothes. He had just finished this distribution, when a poor wayfarer, with two half-naked children trotting after her, came up,