prayer, till all at once there burst from the choir such a strain of sweet music that it almost lifted him from the ground and made him cry for joy. All this was new to him; he had heard of, but had never seen Catholic worship before, and what he did see and hear that day was never afterwards erased from his memory. One thing struck him most forcibly: before the altar in the sanctuary, richly adorned with blue and gold, there hung a silver lamp, whose pale but brilliant light he was told burned night and day before the Host. He knew no more, but he never heard of a Catholic chapel after that, but he thought of the sweet lamp watching there through the dark nights when the people had gone home to rest; watching in the early morning before the town had risen to work, watching in the summer's day when the people were roaming in the fields, watching in the winter's cold when they were round the fire; ever burning, ever watching before the altar throne, while men were being born or were dying, while men were busy or asleep; never growing tired of chapel, or weary of the presence of God, always burning and struggling upwards, while men were falling away from God and His love and service, into the ways of Satan and the paths of sin. These thoughts came to him as he remembered the silver lamp, and it seemed supernatural in its beauty as though angels tended it, and the flame were brought from heaven and was going back thither. He went away, told what he had seen, at home and at school, and received several more lectures on Smithfield and a certain monster, considered half-demon half-man, called the Pope. About this time he heard that a schoolfellow, who was the senior scholar when Henry entered, and had left some months, had become a Catholic, and was being

educated for a priest. He had always been considered the best boy in the school, so kind he would never let the little ones be ill-used by the other boys, so good natured he would always leave his own lessons to help a duller lad; he was tall, with a most tender countenance and handsome manly face; all loved him, he was so good and clever. The school seemed lost without Horace Sylvester, and none missed him more than Henry, for they had been like brothers together of late and now to think he had gone and cut himself off from all his friends and had become a dreadful Catholic ! People spoke of him as of a friend who had suddenly turned out to be a felon, and his family turned the conversation at his name, as though he had disgraced it and theirs. Little could Henry learn of him more, and though for a time his well-remembered features haunted his memory, and made his heart beat faster at the recollection, he soon forgot him as a schoolboy would, and he passed from conversation.

While choosing a creed, the time had arrived for him also to choose a profession. After some delay it was settled that he should become a surgeon, so he left home for the first time in his life, and went to Dr. Flaxman's, of Wentbridge, as apprentice to the healing art.

CHAPTER V.

THE DOCTOR'S FAMILY.

DR. FLAXMAN was selected to teach Henry his profession for two or three reasons-first, he was known to the family; secondly, he was reckoned a very religious

man, being a Wesleyan and a preacher; and, in the third place, he had a good practice, and being considered clever, was likely to assist Henry to become a worthy disciple of Esculapius. So as our hero showed considerable liking for the healing art he was sent, with many prayers for his well-doing and with many wise counsels, to Wentbridge. His parting from home and experience of starting fairly on life's 'troubled voyage was so like every other boy's experience of the matter that we shall not here describe it. Suffice it to say that he arrived at Dr. Flaxman's, for a month on trial, soon after he had reached his sixteenth birthday, at the latter part of the year 18-.

Wentbridge was eighty miles from Merlington, and the journey was not to be accomplished without sundry changes of carriages at various junctions on the railway; this made the distance seem all the greater to poor Henry. It was dark when he arrived at the old dingy city of colleges where he was to learn to be a doctor, and he felt very depressed when the train set him down at his destination. The doctor had sent his gig for him, and the groom soon recognizing our hero, took his luggage and helped him to mount to his place, and drove off with him. Henry had found his long journey very tedious, and was not sorry when he found his companion inclined to be communicative. He had heard but little of Dr. Flaxman and his family, and was anxious to learn something of his future master and his new home.

"Have you

to ask.

lived with the doctor long ?" he ventured

"About six weeks, captain," was the reply.

"He is a very kind man, I suppose?"

"Well, I'm blessed! whatever made you suppose

that ?"

"Is he not a Wesleyan and a preacher ?"

"Of course he is; but what has that to do with the question you ax'd me?"

"Well, I thought it should have."

"Oh, did you! Oh! ain't you precious green, captain ?"

Why, manima said she chose Dr. Flaxman's home for me because she knew all the family were pious, and would on that account be more likely to make me comfortable."

"Ah! ah! ah!" laughed the groom, "oh ! oh! oh!" and then with the most comical expression imaginable looked pityingly into Henry's face, as he exclaimed again, "oh ! ain't you precious green? oh! ain't your ma' precious green ?"

The driver not appearing so communicative on this subject as on others, Henry ventured no farther, but began to ask questions about the business, and what his duties would be, and so forth. The replies seemed perfectly satisfactory; he found there would be work enough with helping to make up the physic and attending to the shop, for the doctor kept what is termed an "open surgery."

Henry was very anxious to succeed; he had done well at school, indeed had carried off most of the prizes, and was still working hard at his books, so that his industry and application seemed likely to stand him in good stead in the profession he had chosen : he liked work thoroughly, and though of a delicate constitution work agreed with him well; he was not therefore alarmed at finding there would be plenty to do. He did certainly wonder a little what the groom's ominous expressions could mean about the domestic comfort he was likely to experience.

However, he silenced his fears by remembering that

his mother had been to see the house, and was perfectly satisfied with all that she knew or could hear of the doctor and his family. By this time the gig drew up at the surgery-door, and Henry stepped down as blithely as possible.

The doctor received him with a smiling welcome, and held out his hand to his new pupil. Henry took it, and did not like the feel of it at all; he could not tell why, but it seemed an unkind hand.

He was then ushered into the drawing-room, where sat Mrs. Flaxnan and her two daughters, Tryphena and Tryphosa. "You will remember," said the doctor's lady, "St. Paul says, 'Salute Tryphena and Tryphosa.""

Henry remembered the passage, but did not feel at all inclined to obey the Apostle, in the present instance at least, for the damsels created a very ill impression on him.

They were respectively about eighteen and twenty years of age, were very pious and demure-looking, and when they smiled, which was evidently seldom, they no sooner detected themselves in the act than they repressed the relaxation of their facial muscles and resumed their sanctimonious aspect. They were short, very short, and extremely thin; their figures were all straight lines and angles, like some of the pictures in Euclid. When they spoke it was in a kind of sneer, and generally to contradict either their mamma, papa, or one another; at least so it appeared to Henry. As the doctor was busy, Mrs. Flaxman and the girls were desired to assist our hero to make himself at home. It was about seven in the evening when he arrived, and, as is the wont with growing boys after a long journey, he began to feel desperately hungry. Miss Flaxman said they had taken tea, and