have learned 'Jesus, lover of my soul,' and 'There is a green hill far away,' and 'Onward, Christian soldiers.' That is splendid. They are going to sing it in meeting to-morrow night," said Kit with a sudden change of tone. "Don't I wish I could go!"

"Don't you wish you could go where?" asked Phin. He had left his boots at the door, and come quietly in in his stocking-feet, so that no one had heard him.

"To meeting," said Kit, rather alarmed, but standing her ground, and half hoping her uncle might relent.

Well, you won't do any such thing."

"I don't see what harm it would do," said Kit. "If it is all nonsense, as you say, it would do no more hurt than going to the circus or the theatre; and you used to let me go there. And if it is true”. "Hush, Kit," said Symantha. "True or false, you won't go. going near that schoolhouse for any thing again. Do you hear?"

"Not to school?" faltered Kit.

And you are not

"No!" thundered Phin. "Not to school nor for any thing else. If you say another word I will take you over to Oldbury, and set you to drawing beer at Stillwell's. I was a fool not to do it before."

Kit's own temper flamed up. "I'll never draw beer at Stillwell's nor anywhere else," said she. "I hate the beer, it is that makes you so ugly, uncle Phin, - and I'll never touch it."

"You won't, eh? You will go down cellar and get me a glass this minute."

"I won't."

"Father!" said Symantha warningly, but Phin was not to be controlled. He had come home from Oldbury vexed at losing money in gambling, irritated as a weak man always is at the slavery to which he was reduced by his own weakness, and ready to visit that irritation on the first helpless object that came in his way. He took Kit in his arms despite her struggles; and, carrying her down stairs, he set her down, and ordered her to draw the beer. But Kit was by this time quite beside herself with rage; and the old habit asserted itself, as old habits will with the best of us at times.

The beer-keg stood on a table at quite a height from the floor. With a volley of hard words, Kit seized it, and, by a sudden exertion of strength, flung it violently to the ground. The head, coming in contact with a large stone, was smashed in, and the beer poured out on the cellar-bottom.

"There's your beer drawn for you," said she. "Now drink it."

Phin's rage was something fearful. He whipped Kit till her screams alarmed him. "There, now go to bed; and don't let me see you again to-night," said he, releasing her at last. "Come, we'll know who is to be master."

Kit crept away to bed, trembling so she could hardly stand. Sorely beaten as she was, the pain was the least of her troubles. That which she had most feared had fallen upon her. To stay away from school, that was the worst. To have no Miss Armstrong to go to in her troubles; to have no one

She had

to answer her questions, and explain to her what she did not understand, — oh, it was too dreadful to think of! Symantha watched her chance, and brought the child some supper; but she could not eat. Even her prayers seemed to bring her no comfort. been so wicked! She had been so angry, and used such bad words! What if she should never be forgiven? She slept only in snatches till the cocks began to crow, and the light to shine into her uncurtained windows. Then she rose, and sought her Testament in the place where she kept it hidden. As she read, her face became calmer, and she ceased her sobs. Yes, she had been very naughty; but He would forgive her as He had forgiven Peter, who cursed and swore. Hope was not all gone, as she had thought the night before. Her Guardian was still in heaven. He saw and knew it all. He would forgive her, and take her part. Kit kneeled and poured out her heart in prayer; and then, lying down, she fell at last into a deep, quiet slumber.

CHAPTER XIII.

KIT'S VICTORY.

WHEN Kit came down stairs, she found breakfast ready, and her uncle just come in.

"Halloo here's the saint," said he roughly. "Come, let us hear some more of those pretty words you said last night, — those nice lessons Miss Armstrong teaches you down there."

"Uncle Phin," said Kit, growing pale, but speaking firmly, "I never learned those words from Miss Armstrong, and you know it. I am sorry I said them : it was very wicked. And I am sorry I struck you."

"Humph!" said Phin, considerably taken aback. "And what about the beer? Are you sorry for that too?"

"No," answered Kit. "I should like to do as much for all the beer-kegs in the world. You are never ugly to me only when you have been drinking beer."

"Humph!" said Phin. "There, hold your tongue, and eat your breakfast; but mind, you are not going to school."

Kit dared not say any more.

Phin did not go to

Oldbury, but staid about the house doing odd jobs of repairing, and waiting upon his wife, who had been very unwell for several weeks. His fondness and tenderness for her was one of his best traits. He never spoke harshly to her in his worst moments, and would take any amount of pains to give her a little comfort. Symantha brought out her basket of mending, and asked Kit to help her with the stockings; saying, with a meaning look,

"You can take your work up in your own room, if you like. I am going to clean the floor."

Kit understood, as well as if the words had been spoken, that Symantha meant to give her a chance to read. She fastened her door, and, having despatched her task of mending neatly and quickly (for, thanks to Symantha's training, she was an expert needlewoman), she drew her precious "Pilgrim's Progress from its hiding-place, and read for a long time. Then she got out her Testament, and read the two last chapters of St. Luke's Gospel. She was going through the book in course, wondering and delighted more and more at all she found there. Her lively imagination and quick sense of the beautiful gave reality to all the stories; and she pondered over them as she walked to and from school, or drove up the cows from their pasture, or helped Symantha with the sewing. This morning she was deeply impressed with the story of the Resurrection. She seemed to see it all, the women coming to the sepulchre (something like the burial-vaults she had seen in the cemetery at St. Louis, she thought) in the early morning, while it was yet dark; the visit of the apostles ;

-