and the door will open. Then up the stairs you go till you reach the fourth floor, and up the last flight go as far as you can till you hit your head against a trapdoor; knock at that, and you'll be let into the room where Walters and his wife and four children all pig together, poor wretches, almost as badly off as original and only genuine Cherokee Indians; but for heaven's sake don't break your neck over those ricketty stairs ; and I say, Pattison, don't trust to the banisters, they are suffering with vertebral debility and confirmed caries."

Henry sallied forth with his New Testament in his pocket, mentally praying God to help him, and bring this fellow-creature into something like a fit state to meet his Maker. He found the house and room as directed, and entering by the hole in the floor, was at last in the room of the dying costermonger. He had been ill a few weeks, and so unprepared was the poor family to stand against the poverty ever consequent in such circumstances upon disease, that already everything was pawned that would fetch the merest trifle. The poor little children tried to earn a few pence by the sale of matches or watercresses, and that was all they could get now that the bread-winner was laid by for And there, on a wretched heap of straw, about a yard and a half square, lay the poor creature on whose breast the icy hand of death was placed so heavily. Going straight to him with eyes full of tears, forsuch scenes were altogether new to our hero, he knelt down at the man's side, telling the wife he came from the hospital and from Mr. Dalton.

ever.

"Ah, Mr. Dalton, sir, has been very kind indeed to us. I am sure I don't know what we should have done this last few days if it had not been for him ; he is a nice kind gentleman; he gave me half-a

crown the last time he was here, and to-day he put 4s. into my hands to get what he ordered in the way of nourishment like for the poor man-ah, poor John, he won't be wanting much more, I fear, sir; I am sure his eyes is a scaling over, and his breath gets awful bad." "Now," said Henry, "I want to talk to your husband a little; I have something to say to him particularly."

So with heart lifted up toward God, he implored aid to help him to instruct the sufferer. He told him in language so simple that an infant must have understood him, and in tones so earnest and sweet they could not fail to arrest the most careless, of the God whose we are and before whose bar the listener must soon appear; he told him of sin and what ruin it has brought our race, and how he, the dying man, was a sinner too; he told the story of the Cross, with such touching emphasis, as made himself to shed tears, and the poor man to stare with wonder and amazement as he learned, for the first time, that any one cared for him; and then he told him how one act of heartfelt contrition, united to a real faith in Christ and his all-atoning death, and real love for Him who had died in his place and opened the way of salvation for him, with the resolution that he would be God's servant if opportunity were given him, would save him. And as he taught the man it seemed as though he was being understood, for the dying costermonger exclaimed,

"I am sorry. I always was sorry when I did wrong, for I always somehow knowed it wouldn't do me no good in the end; and though I ain't had no larning, I think I see something what you mean, young man, and I like the talk, I do. I think it means this: somebody made us, of course, co's we

couldn't have made ourselves, and we haven't done. our duty to our Maker, and He might serve us as He liked, but He has forgiven us, and wants us to make it up with Him; and I am sorry I haven't always been good, like my little Betsy as died when she was four year old, and I wish I could be good, for if I have done God or anybody any wrong, I wants to make it up with them, I do. I don't owe nobody any ill will, I don't, indeed."

So Henry knelt down and prayed very distinctly a very simple prayer; and the prayer was not wasted, for it found its way through that black ceiling, and out of that wretched house and filthy court and polluted atmosphere, through the regions of space, till it was borne by the hands of angels, who stood watching there, to the foot of the throne of the Majesty on high. And the long night through, the young student stayed by the bed-side, keeping vigil with the wife of the dying man, and as the night waned and morning began to break, the restless patient, aroused from the half-unconscious state into which he had lately fallen, looked at Henry very hard, and said,—

"If He wants-to-make-it-up-God-you— call-Him-or-Him as died on the Cross-it-was -very-kind-I don't owe nobody-any-grudge -I-am-sorry I ain't-pleased-God-and—I— wish I could do something-to-let-Him——”

It was all over, he was gone; the stars shone through the little skylight above the corpse, and as they watched, they saw the angels who had gone to fetch Henry, and who had brought him and carried his prayer to heaven and returned to whisper the answer to the dying one's heart, tenderly take up that costermonger's soul, and bear it through

that dark ceiling, where the prayer had passed so lately, up to the throne of the King, to be received with His favour and welcome: while as the angels went their way, the same pale stars also saw the souls of learned, rich, and noble men and women of earth who did know who God was in life, and who were perfectly well acquainted with their duty towards Him, though they would not serve Him, hurried by exulting demons to the place where there is "weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth."

Henry felt instinctively that the man had not died in the utter ignorance in which he had lived, and rejoiced that his good angel had directed him to the mission which he could not but feel had been an useful one. He went home more than ever in earnest to try and do some good in the world before his turn came to die; some good that should live after him, and have its fruit in the life beyond: and he had abundant opportunity of doing it, for his profession was always bringing him into contact with poverty, misery, ignorance, and vice.

CHAPTER XI.

"AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER."

In

YES. The first murderer's question embraced the whole subject of man's relation to his fellow. a thousand different forms that question has been, and is still being repeated by every child of Adam. Charity promptly replies, Yes! most truly yes! Self as promptly answers, No! most certainly

not! And so the battle wages, and will wage till heaven has heard the last sufferer's sigh, and earth has received the last drop of oppressed humanity's blood. Man had scarcely begun to live before he began to sin, and at the heels of sin came suffering, and suffering had no sooner begun its work than brother was called to account for brother; and thus far back up the stream of history when as yet it was but a rivulet, long ages back when the world's day had scarcely dawned and the page of its story was almost blank, this great question which men have echoed ever since and which is still now reverberating, "Am I my brother's keeper ?" was first asked, and askedominous connexion !—by the first hater! the first murderer! Cain first asked God this question, and when the ages had rolled on, and the world's sun was climbing its meridian height, there appeared a sign in heaven and a voice divine gave utterance, and lo, the answer came, "Thy neighbour as thyself!"

The dragon's teeth sown in a soil, alas! only too favourable, had produced a destroying army, and the sons of Cain were legion; for earth had become the prey of evil passion, and hate and murder were rampant, and charity wandered about, a stranger in the land, till the God-man brought the cure for the world's deadly wounds, and the angels sang the Introit "Peace on earth, good will towards men," to the service of selfsacrifice of the Lamb of God; and the panacea for the world's ills, the golden maxims of the gospel, was left to work its way till it changed the desert into a garden, and the sighs of the oppressed and the wretched, to hymns of thanksgiving.

But it is a difficult lesson to learn, to love our neighbours as ourselves; in proportion as we do not, in the same ratio are we far from the kingdom of