flinching road. But we mun ha'e someat. Lets gang to Robarts's—there'll be grand pickings there, I am thinking." And so did they. No boudoir of Mrs. Robarts's stayed their unruly hands by the sight of its sacred contents. No remembrance of Mr. Robarts broke in to spare his home and valuables. Found almost tenantless-the few servants within it flying on their approach-they left it so completely gutted and destroyed, that it was unlikely even the fondest remembrance and love of it, as a once happy home, would feel justified in sanctioning its restoration. When Mischief once lets loose her votaries, not even her own bewailments can stay the mad and useless ravages they commit. In such hours, Art is dethroned and irremediably violated; Science is delivered up into brutal hands; while Genius and Refinement fly mournfully away, aghast at the monstrous degradations Fate suffers such powers to undergo. Meantime young John and Nest had flown wildly into the parsonage, shouting "Papa is safe!-papa is safe!" Mrs. Leslie, anticipating much more than the reality, interpreted the cry into the fact that he had arrived, and rushed out to meet him. The consequent explanation did not place John and Nest on a high pinnacle of favour. Their exploit appeared to gain no applause but in their own eyes; and though Emily was too just to visit on their poor little heads the bitterness of her disappointment, she clearly considered the whole tale as unworthy of notice-the hopes it gave valueless as wind. disappointment But mamma's evident faded before Wilsy's high wrath. It was out of the power of anyone dwelling in the same house with young John to be displeased with him; but Nest, Nessie-always wilfully rompish, and determinately boyish-was in deepest disgrace for running out without bonnet or tippet. Master John might shake hands with pitmen-it showed his sweet disposition; but Miss Nest should remember she was a little lady, and act as such. So she spent the rest of the evening in a corner, and Pearl shared it with her, from a vague feeling common among the Leslies, that some little injustice attends all mundane punishments. CHAPTER XVI. "Poor! did you call me? Far better than pelf, I've a true heart who loves me, For sake of myself! With these, and my patience, And strength to endure, My health, and my honour, How can I be poor?" CHARLES MACKAY. THERE occurs this passage in Mr. Leslie's journal : "Many and merciful are the ways of God, and in nothing are they more benign than the paths by which He leads us to acknowledge and implore His protecting care. Full to repletion did He fill us with gratitude for our escape from the 'sudden insurrection of wicked men.' And if, in mine heart, I lifted up my head in secret pride that my ministry had not been unprofitable-if I listened with complacency to the praises and thanks of men, Thou, O God! gently laidst me down on the bare stones of weakness and insufficiency. I know not when I enjoyed life as then. The successful issue of our efforts to frustrate the evil intents of my poor, misguided people -the happiness and delight of my dear and excellent wife-the many good and true friends we have made the health and intelligence of our children-all made me turn to 'Our Father,' and feel, as Job |