"You can and will if you have any right feeling." "But he must hear me out."

"He will not; and it is of greater consequence that you should be obedient than anything else."

"To be punished for the wrong thing," groaned Will. A little pause, during which a choking gulp, then a submissive" If you'll lend me your light I'll make myself decent and come down."

Paul went across to Gordon, and sent him with the candle.

"Thank you," said Will, glumly; "I'm sorry you got pitched into for my fault, very. I've tried to clear you, but he won't hear."

Why not ?" asked the boy, amazed.

"Because-I don't know why-he says we are always making excuse for you. I did my best to tell him; and I'll do it again."

Gordon loitered a minute, fidgeting with the candle. "Never mind, Will," he began presently; "don't get into any more trouble for me.

"But I must clear you; I can't be happy first."

I wish you could; but I don't so much mind, as Paul knows I didn't deserve it."

Here Paul, who was beginning to think he had already been longer on his errand than he ought, called to his little brother, and down they went. Perhaps it was well for him he never knew the first spark of generosity in Gordon's breast had been kindled by his kindness. Paul was but human, and the influence he could but be conscious of wielding around him was a snare to conceit, to which it required all his straightforwardness and earnestness to keep him from yielding.

Will soon followed them down. Sad and quiet enough; but amongst so large a party, many of whom were already showing their joy in rather too noisy a manner for their mother's nerves, this was not noticed. Supper passed off merrily. Hargrave made bad jokes, at which every one was ready to laugh. Mr. Wynne sat beaming and content now his wife's face was once more opposite his; and Gordon, nestled close into his mother's side, was quite bright and happy again.

He and Laura stayed up till ten, when after prayers all went to bed; all but poor Will running up stairs with light steps and merry good-nights.

Will lingered by Paul, who was last in the hall.

"Paul, may I try again ?" he began with awkward piteousness.

"I cannot but think no," answered Paul, kindly. "Oh! Paul! how am I to get to sleep with that on my mind. Let me tell mother, then."

"No, not for the world," said Paul, decidedly. day's work shows she must not be tried as she has been." Then I must try papa. I won't be impertinent, indeed, I won't; don't say no."

Paul did not, only looked another way. There was something in Will's rough, honest nature, that often gave him a choking feeling in his throat. Paul went up stairs; Will into the parlour.

"Papa," he began, timidly.

“William,” said Mr. Wynne, turning round, “I will not hear you."

Will stood a moment, his face working.

“Then, papa, I won't try again; but-only beg your pardon for going up stairs as I did."

"Oh-good-night;" and Mr. Wynne held out his hand friendlily. Will took it, longing, how much no one can tell, to try again; but he refrained.

He went, however, into Paul's room on his way to bed, and sat down despairingly.

"No good!"

"I feared so. But you may make yourself happy; you have done your very

best."

own.

“Yes, I think I have," Will was forced to « But, oh! to think I've always got that to be upon my mind." "You are exaggerating there a little, Will."

"I don't think I am. I am very sorry Gordon should be thought so much worse of than he deserves, and—that I should not be punished at all. And to think it all comes from that stupid thoughtlessness for which mamma has been at me ever since I can remember. Perhaps, if I had got into a regular row with papa about it, and caught it well, it might have cured me."

Paul hesitated. "Don't you think, Will," he began at last honestly, "it may be, that just to help you to cure yourself ĠOD has allowed this misunderstanding; that He is punishing you Himself, by making you bear a burden, which is a great deal more irksome to you than anything a fellow-man could inflict."

"If so, I'm sure my punishment is heavier than I can bear. I don't mean to be irreverent-I mean it. To know mamma is thinking I have been kind to Gordon when I've been so unkind, and papa having this to make him so much the more angry with the poor little fellow. I must always feel like a hypocrite now."

Will sank down his head, sat in thought a few minutes, then started up-" Good-night, Paul; I'll think over what you've said, and if—if it does really seem to be as you say, try to bear it bravely. Good-night, and thank you, I'm sure it ought to cure me."

Help you to cure yourself," corrected Paul, "I'm sure it will;" and the clerk wrung the schoolboy's hand so heartily that Will looked up in amaze.

But let no one imagine that such a Sunday had ever been known at Ford House before. Even Barbara had far from foreseen all the evils to which a mother's favouritism would give birth.

WHERE the slimy water-lilies on the dark-grey surface lie,
After three long days they found her, underneath an autumn sky.

And her cousin, Lucy Escot, stood and wept, with grief half blind,
Mary, O our one loved Mary! so to lose, and so to find!

86

"Pride of all our village children, first at school, and first at play, Mary, our own darling Mary, thus to fling herself away!

"Ah! and should we ever listen to the words that so beguile?
Is there such a venom hid within a happy glance and smile?
"Yes!—but all I think or do in open daylight shall be done :
If we shun the face of men, O still more surely GOD we shun.

"Never, never, I will wander, when the stars are in the blue,

Down the copse lane, in the twilight, Mary! lest I meet with you— "Lest I dream your sunny forehead strangely greets me o'er the stile,

Where with One you stood so long, and heard the linnets trill the while.

"O that you could bloom beside us, what you were, one short year hence !

None who lose it find their way back to the ring of Innocence.

"Had you told us-for we loved you this mayhap had scarcely been

But she's gone, she's lost,-who knows?-GOD, who all has heard and seen;

66

"All her woes, and all his vileness! He must judge—and we pass by,

With the keen keen grief within, that shall not leave us till we die.

"Mary, though the folks may chide, I somehow love you all the

same

But three sister-bairns deserted? none to watch and none to tame?

"For their father's broken-hearted, and my duties call me farWell, too well, our Pastor spoke, through sudden tears, A fallen Star!"

II.

Maidens, if you cross your threshold when the summer's sun has set,
When a lover in the twilight stands, and GOD your hearts forget,
Go not up the narrow copseway, come not near the lonely stile :
You may chance to meet a shadow that shall scarcely bid you smile.
Nay, this counsel is not friendly! Go, and start, while yet 'tis time:
Tremble at the sounding footsteps of the fast advancing crime !
Where the dusky alders shiver o'er the melancholy wave
Wander in the careless moonlight-ask not Heav'n to stoop and save!

You shall hear a ghostly murmur creep the sullen pool along
And the breezes sob around you into mockery of song :

List, and mark! I loved, and trusted, was subdued, and was betrayed,

Left a father's heart despairing, sank, and died!

maid?'

And thou, O

But the village maidens mark not, and it falls, the whelming blast!— Such, folks ween, her spirit-penance; fruitlessly to wail the Past, Hopelessly to warn the Present! Still to mark, when pales the sun, Young feet steal across the doorway, young hearts beat to be undone ;

Still around their path to murmur, 'Roam like me, like me be lost!' But the souls of whispering lovers by no spectral shades are cross'd. "How the dusky willows glitter! Steals not there a figure by ?" "'Tis the starlight, love"-" But surely-hist! that long resounding sigh!"

"Dearest, 'twas the breezes wailing thou should'st cold and loveless be!"

"Nay, an icy touch"-"Sweet Mary, this true heart shall shelter thee."

Ah, were this a legend only of the Past and far away!
Not an echo of the Present, not the burden of To-day.

ARCHER GURNEY.

CHAPTERS ON THE FATHERS OF THE
CHURCH.

No. III.-HERMIAS THE PHILOSOPHER-A DERISION OF THE HEATHEN PHILOSOPHERS.

THE Conflict of Christianity with paganism forms the primary and perhaps the most interesting episode in the life of the early Church. It was a warfare of life as well as of creed; and many of the polemical tracts of the second century bear incidental evidence to the social selfsacrifice that the profession of Christianity entailed upon the convert. It was when the current of Imperial justice was diverted from the Christians, and when even their home, as well as their occupation and worship, were assaulted by the heathenism of the state, that those temporary writings styled Apologies issued from this oppressed body of men. Illustrious even now are many of the names which then pleaded-with ever-varying successfor the new religion of JESUS CHRIST: S. Justin and Tertullian, Athenagoras and Tatian, Theophilus and Minutius Felix, are our chiefest witnesses to the verity of the ancient faith, and most nobly did they respond to the demand for their testimony, which was made by Bishop Bull in his immortal "Defence of the Nicene Creed." With considerable variation as to style and treatment the Apologists generally set out with a demand for impartial