for a few articles of the plainest kind; the luxurious table for the coarsest fare; and instead of servants anticipating her wants, she had now to perform the most menial services for herself. But in this humiliating comparison there was one thing more difficult to endure than all the others. Instead of companions whose elegant manners gave a charm to all they did, she had the society of her husband only, while every day rendered her more sensible of her imprudence in the choice she had so foolishly made. She was as unsuited to him as he was to her; and now, when she wanted sympathy, there was no one to whom she could impart her cares, no one from whom she could receive consolation. Her neighbours were all poor, and many were depraved. She was as poor as any, but she never sank to their level or practised their vices. It is due to her husband to state that, although he was bitterly disappointed by the continued silence of Cecilia's friends, he treated her kindly, and laboured hard to supply her wants. The birth of a son, when she had been married rather more than a year, though it increased her difficulties, lessened their pressure, she had now something to love. For her child's sake she cheerfully endured privation and toil. There were moments when her thoughts would revert sadly to her former condition when she dwelt with her family, and knew no want, yet even then the sight of her child would banish the feeling of regret, and fill her heart with gladness. How tender and self-sacrificing is a mother's love! The God of all grace refers to it in illustration of his affection to his chosen people. 'As one whom his mother comforteth so will I comfort you, and ye shall be comforted in Zion."

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Thus the first ten years of her married life were spent. She had at intervals endeavoured to obtain some notice from her family, but her efforts were entirely unsuccessful; her letters were returned unopened, and not one indication of remembrance ever reached her. Between her parents and herself there was a great gulf. She could not pass it; and they adhered to their resolution, they would not pass to her. Her mind was now more reconciled to her painful lot, and she clung with increased fondness to her child. There was nothing withheld from him that Cecilia could possibly procure, and she sought continually to promote his happiness. But she never taught him to look to heaven and say, "Our Father." Alas! she knew not God herself, and was as unable as unwilling to speak to her boy concerning Him. All this time she had no Bible. Unsanctified afflictions have a tendency to harden the heart against God, and poor Cecilia's heart was as hard as a rock. She had never said with the prodigal, "I will arise and go to my Father: with the publican, "God be merciful to me, a sinner." In those days there was no Bible Society to seek out the destitute poor, and give to them the best of books; no friendly tract distributor to present the little messenger of mercy, with a kind promise of calling again; no city missionary,

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to tell of Jesus, and encourage the wanderer to return to God. Even now, ignorance and vice abound, but the company is great who publish "glad tidings," and the Lord has said, "My word shall not return unto me void but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I send it."

About this time an event occurred, which plunged Cecilia into the depths of affliction and despair, far exceeding anything she had previously experienced. It is probable that her early habits prevented that union of feeling between her and her husband, which is so essential to happiness in the married life. They were "unequally yoked." Perhaps, also, the consciousness of his inferiority was mortifying to himself, and induced him to regret the step he had taken, by which her position in life was so painfully changed. It is only in this way that she could account for the mysterious and distressing event which must now be related.

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Her son was just entering his tenth year; he was an interesting lad, and was greatly attached to his mother. One sabbath morning, when the sun was brightly shining, and the church bells were sending forth their cheerful peal, he went out with his father, not to attend the house of God, but to take a walk, intending to return in time for dinner. Cecilia made the usual preparation, and after waiting some siderable period after all was ready, she began to feel angry at their stay; but hour after hour passed, and her anger was exchanged for alarm. From that day she never saw her husband or her child again, nor heard anything concerning them. They had not quarrelled, nor had he ever, by a single word, led her to suspect that he entertained an intention of leaving her. Everything connected with his absence continues to be involved in the deepest obscurity.

It would be vain to attempt a description of the anguish that was experienced by the bereaved mother. As the day closed, and the dreary night succeeded, she listened with intense eagerness to every footstep that seemed to approach her dwelling, but as the steps receded she sank down in mute despair. The longest night will end; so did that long night of suffering; yet the day brought no relief, for the sad truth began to force itself on Cecilia's breaking heart:-she was forsaken! Her poor neighbours, from whom she had usually stood aloof, now came around her, and with affectionate earnestness sought to encourage her still to hope. The poor are not destitute of sympathy, and they often help those who are poorer than themselves. But their efforts were in vain : Cecilia had ceased to hope, and, like Rachel, "she refused to be comforted."

When she began to think upon her past life, she remembered with bitter grief her ungrateful conduct to her friends. Her duplicity and disobedience had brought upon her a heavy punishment; yet she did not confess her sin against God, or offer up one prayer to Him for pardon or for succour. He was

THE ENGLISH MONTHLY TRACT SOCIETY. 27 RED LION SQUARE LONDON.

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to her an unknown God." "Like a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke," she was stubborn and rebellious; and she said as did Cain, "My punishment is greater than I can bear." Her condition and prospects were indeed most dreary and distressing. There was no ray of light to relieve the gloom: no cheering remembrance to lessen her woe. All was hopeless helpless misery! The language may seem too strong, and yet it simply expresses the state of her mind. In after life, when she knew the grace of God, and had become familiar with the sacred oracles, she used to say that David's " horrible pit and miry clay" must have been very similar to her experience at this period of her existence. In the sunshine of her days she never sought the Lord: in her poverty and toil she had always neglected the means of grace; and now, in her utter bereavement, she had no God to go to!

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Reduced by the loss of her husband's earnings to absolute poverty, she was obliged to part with her furniture and clothes to buy bread. She was too proud to solicit charity, and she knew no way by which she could obtain the meanest provision, when the remainder of her little property was gone. She had clung to life while there was any hope that her child would return; but now, when every inquiry had been made, and all had proved fruitless, she only wished to lie down and die.

Affliction is a dark lane, where the enemy of souls is always watching, that he may gain advantage over those who have to travel in that path. He was busy with Cecilia now, and she readily listened to his artful suggestions. The temptation was in unison with her feelings: it was self-murder! Poor thing she had no dread of a future state, for she thought of death only as the end of her existence and of her misery. Her plan was soon formed; and she waited only for the approach of night as the fittest season for her deed of darkness. Scarcely had the shades of evening spread their gloom over her poor abode, than she wrapped her cloak around her and went forth, firm in her purpose to end her life and her sufferings for ever.

How awful is the spectacle! an immortal being is about to rush into the presence of her Maker: a sinner, to the tribunal of her Judge. See the destroyer, as with a malicious triumph he urges his victim onwards to eternal ruin. Is there no friendly arm to snatch the brand from the burning? There are but few steps between Cecilia and the pit. Man's aid is vain;-Lord, save, or she will perish!

She was walking swiftly up Tottenham Court Road, then a solitary path, when she saw a number of persons entering a place of worship. She stood still, scarcely knowing what to do. She thought that if she attempted to execute her purpose then, she would be observed and hindered. While she was hesitating, a young man very kindly invited her to accompany him into the house of God. He was quite a stranger to her, but his manner evinced so much affection and sympathy that she felt herself unable to refuse, and for the

first time for many years she found herself in the house of prayer. She had not, at that time, relinquished her fatal purpose, but was as firm as ever in her determination not to live: she had only for an hour or two postponed the execution of her design. The service, and especially the singing, had soothed her troubled mind, but beyond this it had made no impression. When the congregation began to disperse, the young man gave her a shilling, and entreated her to come again the next evening. She promised to do so, and they separated. The supply, small as it was, which had been sent just as providentially as the bread and flesh which the ravens brought to the prophet, enabled her to provide a little nourishment, which was greatly needed by her. Her feelings were also tranquillized, and for the time she put away from her the horrible thought of self-destruction.

At the appointed time she went again to the same place of worship, and saw the young man to whose kindness she was so much indebted. Nothing particular occurred during the service, but when it ended he gave her a small gratuity as he did on the previous evening, and very earnestly pressed her to come on the next Lord's day. Such was her destitute condition, that it was with great difficulty she could make herself sufficiently decent to be seen in the day time at such a place. But she went. And now she obtained a blessing, for which she had infinite cause for gratitude to that young man, and to Almighty God for ever. The preacher seemed to have singled her out from all the congregation, as if his message was directed only to her. He set before her the ingratitude and rebellion of her whole life. While hearing him she felt that the Lord might, with strict justice, have cut her off in her sins. And now, the thought of the future, as it is set forth in the scriptures, filled her with dreadful anguish: "the worm that never dies; the fire that is never quenched.' Cecilia felt that if her purpose had not been prevented, this would have been her portion. But the minister was not a Boanerges only; he was also a son of consolation; and as the cry burst from her broken heart, "What must I do to be saved?" he pointed to the cross, and to the risen and ascended Saviour. The Holy Spirit applied the word with power, and Cecilia felt that there is a charm in the name of Jesus. An old writer, commenting on the first chapter of Matthew, and the twenty-first verse, thus writes: "O sweet name of Jesus! it is honey in the mouth, music in the ear, and a jubilee in the heart." It was all this to Cecilia. She had now entered on a new existence. Satan was defeated, and slunk away ashamed; but there was joy in heaven.

When the service, so interesting and important to Cecilia, had terminated, the young man pressed her very earnestly to continue her attendance. She wept, but her tears were those of joy, for she had now found a great treasure," of the existence of which she was previously in utter ignorance. He again supplied her need, and they separated; to meet no

more in this life. It is very remarkable that she never knew anything more concerning him. Perhaps he was detained by illness; or perhaps he was removed, in the providence of God, to some other part of the great city. But it is idle to inquire. Our safest course is suggested by the prophet when he says, "This also cometh from the Lord of hosts, who is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working." "Man's extremity is God's opportunity.' He never knew the consequences resulting from his kindness, but the act shall be had in everlasting remembrance.

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Reader, have you ever invited a neighbour or acquaintance to the house of God? or said to a stranger, Come and sit with me in my pew? That young man was an instrument in the hand of the Holy Spirit of saving a soul from death, and hiding a multitude of sins," a holier and happier deed than the conquest of a kingdom. "Suffer the word of exhortation," and " go thou and do likewise."

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Cecilia had been unable to thank her benefactor, but she went home with a lightened heart. She was willing to live now, that she might praise Jesus. She had found a Friend, one who loves at all times," and is" a brother born for adversity;" others had cast her off, but He would never leave her nor forsake her." Happy Cecilia! she served the Lord with gladness, and often longed to have her husband and child with her again, that she might tell them "how great things the Lord had done for her soul:" but this privilege she never enjoyed. Shortly after this period she was led in the providence of God to attend another place of worship, the minister of which, having heard from Cecilia the history of her eventful life, endeavoured to effect a reconciliation with her relatives. But in this he failed, and they still adhered to their determination never to see her again. His intercession, however, induced them to settle on her a small annuity. She retained her connexion with this church till she had entered on her ninetieth year. She was still in the possession of her faculties; indeed her memory was remarkably retentive, but her bodily strength was nearly gone, and she was unable, without assistance, to come to the house of God.

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Thus she seemed as a shock of corn, fully ripe in its season;" she was willing to wait the Lord's time; and yet she had a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better." When on any occasion her husband and son were mentioned, she always referred to them with a confident expectation of meeting them in heaven. She had prayed for them, and she believed that a faithful God would not permit any of his children to pray in vain. Of her other connexions she ever spoke with gratitude. Her parents were dead, and scarcely any who had formerly known her, were now alive. She felt that if they still survived, the change in her religious views and habits would have entirely unfitted her for their society. She sighed not for her former splendour, for she had "learned to be content with the things that she possessed." Indeed