Lave arrived before but they have been delayed by the sea-fog. They came by water, and would have been decoyed by false lights and wrecked but for the witch's fire on the Esgair. The sailors saw it, and

so brought them safely to land."

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and where he might speak flattering words to her from time to time; but she had disappeared.

Michael was able to play most of the successive pieces, and joined the other harpers accordingly. But in the pauses between a country air and

Four harpers were ushered into the hall, bearing their harps. One of them was blind, and led by a boy, his grandson. Michael rose, and yielded his place to him, telling him his name.

"I am glad to see a grandson of Pennant Brynhafod," said the old man. "But for the grace of the God in whom he trusts we should all have been dead men this night. The light on the Esgair should be called the angel's not the witch's fire.”

He was scarcely seated before the harpers were summoned to the drawing-room. Michael said that as he was no longer wanted he would go home, but the old man begged him to remain, saying that he was "all of a tremble, and felt as if he could not strike a chord." The others seconded the request, so Michael accompanied them to the room. They were all seated on a slightly raised platform at the end of this state apartment, and when Michael had placed himself a little behind the others on the left, he surveyed the scene. The room, the lights, the ladies, the painted ceiling, the frescoed walls, the splendours to which he was so unaccustomed, dazzled him, and he thought of Belshazzar's feast. Reflecting on the character of the earl, he almost expected to see the writing on the wall. He did not know the tune the harpers were playing, so he did not attempt to play it, and was able to watch the scene. Lord Penruddock was engaged with some "ladye of high degree," and Michael thought his features were ruffled. The Lady Mona chatted with some one equally grand, and looked, according to his judgment, the star of the night. As she sailed down the room he could think of nothing but a swan-white, stately, soft as down. The earl and the countess were very quiet, so, he remarked, was Sir George Walpole.

Michael was startled from his observations by the sudden address of Lord Penruddock, who stood slightly below him, and said in English, which he knew the other harpers did not understand—" Where is your sister? I saw her before dinner, and have since been to look for her, but I cannot find her." "She is probably gone home, my lord." "Provoking!" muttered his lordship, and looked as if the light of the evening had gone out for him.

He had been to seek Daisy, in order to place her in some spot where she might see and not be seen,

intended for him. This was between the Lady Mona and her cousin Everard. They had been talking together, and had stationed themselves near the musicians, to be out of hearing.

"I used every argument that one man can use to another, Mona," said the gentleman. "But it was of no use. If I had been rich, though as old and ugly as a satyr, your father would have listened; but, being poor, he was as deaf as a post. I talked for an hour, but all I could get out of him was, 'I am a poor peer, you are a poor soldier. The thing is impossible. I have no money, not a guinea, to give her. Everything is entailed on Penruddock. It cannot be, Everard.' At last I got into a passion, and called him an old miser, and he turned livid, and ordered me to leave the castle." "Oh, Everard, what shall we do!" said Lady Mona, in a voice of despair.

I see no "It is death to

"Run away when you come to London. other chance," whispered Everard. part thus after our brief Lappiness." "It will, indeed, be death to me. speak to Penruddock? He can do anything with the earl," said Lady Mona.

Cannot you

"I have; and he says your father is bent on your marrying Sir George Walpole, who is a millionaire, and that Sir George is to have no voice in the matter. But Sir George is more than your slave, Mona. Shall riches or love prevail ?"

"Love!" replied Lady Mona, in a husky agitated voice, putting her hand into her cousin's.

He held it a few moments, bent over it, and touched it with his lips. A faint colour overspread her face, then a deadly pallor.

"Go! go!" she said; "the earl is coming, and Sir George."

"Let me take you first to my aunt," he said, offering his arm.

Michael saw that she staggered as she took it, and watched them until they disappeared.

Shortly afterwards the earl came towards the harpers. He looked grim and angry, and they began to fear they had offended. But he singled out Michael, and said in his commanding way, "Fetch your brother; Lady Mona is ill."

Michael hastened away, and as he ran through the principal entrance, heedless of decorum, he saw Captain Everard jump into a carriage and drive off. (To be continued.)

First-yes, first-the thought of the summer afternoon with Bruce and Stephen in Bullfinch Lane, the search, the excitement, the delight, the gold watch and chain with its diamond seal, the reward, the Belgian canary in a new green cage that Stephen had settled upon buying when the two pounds were his own, the bat and ball and wickets upon which Bruce's heart was set, the shawl for mother, and the red hood for baby, which he had thought of himself all this passed swiftly through Dick's mind, and then the thought of his mother, and of his little sister's wailing cry, made him lag a few steps behind the other boys, and kick about the dust with his feet; and then another thought came with great power into his heart, which brought him quite to a standstill, and lifted his eyes to the blue sky overhead the thought of some words which he had heard from the rector in school to-day, not about Miss Ethel's watch, or the diamond seal, but about the good brave life that a little boy had once lived long ago in a quiet village home, not pleasing himself, but a help to others, and obedient to his mother.

Dick knew that this little boy when He grew up had been called the Lord Christ, the Saviour of the world, and that afterwards He had died a cruel death for sinners, upon 66 a green hill far away" from His village home. And Dick knew that he could not be quite like Him, but he had determined in school today that he would try, and it was this last thought that had made him climb up the stile over which his brothers had disappeared as quickly as he could, and call after them that they were not to wait for him, because he wanted to speak to mother. It was this that had brought him back so lovingly to her side, and it was this thought, too, that made his heart so glad, as he went out amongst the tall ragworts and purple mallows in the paddock behind the house, to search for the straying goat.

But, of course, she was not there, only the deep hole in the centre of the field from which her tether had been dragged; and when Dick looked a little further, a few more loose stones, fallen from the old gap in the wall to the road beneath, showed by what means her escape had been made. Dick climbed through the gap too, and let himself cautiously down, raising a thick white cloud of dust about him as his feet touched the road. But as the dust

cleared away, Dick saw, to his great joy, that the heavy iron spike and long thick rope of the tether had left a straggling track for some distance, at least, along the white road ahead of him.

Dick went on, brave in the consciousness that he was doing right, and that God was with him. He knew that if Jenny were there she would prove a much more mischievous trespasser than he was, and so he did not care if he met old Farmer Ellis himself face to face; and he wanted to cut right across this angle of the field to widow Marsden's cottage, for from there Jenny had been bought some time ago, and Dick thought she might have made her way back there; if not, he must only try in the gravelpits another mile away.

It was a good steep pull through the thick grass to the small white cottage at the other side of the field; but there was something in Dick's heart that made it seem short to-day, and as he knocked at Mrs. Marsden's door he felt almost a certainty of hearing good news from her.

A shrill" Come in!" answered his knock, and, upon entering, he found the old woman alone and in bed, with an eager thirsty look in her eyes, and one long thin arm outstretched on the quilt.

"Come in, Dick Radnor, and welcome. And it will be the Lord that has sent you here."

"No," Dick answered, simply, "I came myself, to look for our goat that's been lost since morning, and I thought she might have come here."

"Then I haven't seen her; and it's I that's lost myself for want of a drink of water. Martha's that careless, she left it just out of my reach when she went out this morning, and she'll not cross the threshold again until evening." As she spoke, Mrs. Marsden stretched out her hand again towards a cracked cup in the window, but even the points of the long thin fingers could not reach it, and she sank back exhausted again.

Dick climbed up on the foot of the bed, forgetting his purpose for a moment in the sight of the old woman's distress; but the sun was glaring hotly in at the window, and even the outside of the cup was quite warm. That water could not do much towards cooling the poor parched lips.

"This is not fresh," he said, "the well's just here to the back, I will run out and fill it," and without waiting for a reply, Dick hastened round to the rear of the house, and leaning over the little dark well, which was so cool and clear he could almost see the smile on his own happy face reflected in it, he filled a brimming cup for the old woman, and soon placed it with his own hands to her lips.

drink from the cup, and lay back on the pillow again. 'And whilst you were away at the well I was thinking, that an hour or more ago I heard a knock at the door, that I thought might have been a neighbour, and I was real glad, for the sun was all a-blaze, and I wanted the drink badly; but though I sat up in the bed and roared as loud as I could at them, not one lifted the latch, and I'm thinking now 'twas old Jenny herself, for 'twas her knock, if I'd had the sense to remember it."

"

And where do you think she's gone now?" Dick asked, eagerly, awaking to hope again at Mrs. Marsden's words, and pushing back the thick fair hair from his heated brow.

"It's 'mazing fond of the church was Jenny," the old woman answered, half to herself, as it seemed; "the rector's got a young plantation up there, and I'd no peace between him and her till I parted her. You'd best look after her there, Dick Radnor, I'm thinking; and God bless you for coming, my boy, whether He sent you or no!"

So saying, the old woman turned sleepily round on her side, and Dick left the cottage quietly, making straight across the fields for the rector's plantation, with fresh courage at heart, and a double blessing in

his ear.

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If it had been only for this-only for poor old widow Marsden in her loneliness-he was glad he had given up the expedition to Bullfinch Lane; he was glad, even if old Jenny could not be found, that he had come this way. But "this way was the hardest bit of it all, for the fields were full of prickly thistles, and Dick's stockings were short, not like the other boys', and he had to skirt all round three sides of the two large fields where the thistles did not grow, or, at least, not so thickly, and very tired and almost disheartened he was before he reached the little brown brook across which there was a short cut by steppingstones into the rector's plantation.

Once indeed, it must be told, our little hero sat down on the very edge of the thistles, with sun and dust in his eyes, and prickles in his bare legs, and a great fear in his heart that he was going to give it up and take to crying instead; but only two large tears rolled out of his eyes, carrying away the dust and weariness with them; a kind black cloud passed over the sun, making the whole air in a moment pleasant and cool, and Dick took heart again, as a distant sound of plaintive bleating fell upon his ear. He sprang up. It was Jenny! he knew it was, their own Jenny, though the sound of her voice was more sad and troubled than it was wont to be.

"Jenny, I'm coming to you; here I am!" Dick exclaimed, plunging first through the water, and then through the thick uncut grass of the plantation towards the church in pursuit of her.

There she was, indeed, poor Jenny, in her old and favourite haunt amongst the young spruce firs close

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to the porch, but she could not reach the pale green shoots or pink tassels to-day, for her long tether was twisted in hopeless tangles about a fallen stump, and poor Jenny was prancing round and round on her hind-legs, butting at it with her horns in vain efforts to be free, and uttering every now and then the plaintive bleat which had guided Dick through the plantation to her side.

"Poor Jenny, poor old Jenny!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms round her neck in the first impulse of his excitement and delight, and kissing her brown cheek; but Jenny was in no mood for coaxing just yet, and butted at him severely. It was not until Dick began working at the other end of her chain that she seemed to understand that he had come to her help, and then she danced eagerly towards him on her hind-legs again, and rubbed her brown nose in turn against the child's fair cheek.

It was some time before Dick's anxious fingers could untwist the tangled chain, and then the heavy stake had to be pulled with quite a wrench from under the fallen wood; and then what then? What was it that danced and sparkled and burned in the sunlight under Dick's eyes, sending the crimson colour to his cheeks and a rush of glad startled thoughts to his heart? What was it set his hands trembling with almost a sense of fear as the heavy stake fell from them and he stooped towards the ground? Was it possible-was it right-could it be, that such happiness had fallen to his share?

Yes, there it lay, just where it had fallen, in the long uncut grass-Miss Ethel's gold watch and chain, with the diamond seal, almost concealed by the fallen wood, just under old Jenny's brown nose, which must have grazed it at least a hundred times.

Dick could scarcely believe it; he lifted up the unlooked-for golden treasure with doubt and trembling and joy; he heard, in a kind of dream, the sound of boys' voices-loud-raised, passionate voices-drawing near, and he stuffed watch and chain and all inside the breast of his little holland waistcoat, with almost the air of a thief.

He did not want to meet them just now; he did not want them to know yet; he could not feel quite sure, quite happy about it all, until he had run home as quickly as he could by the way he had come, until he had climbed up into his mother's arms again, and laid his treasure there.

Already Jenny was far ahead of him, dragging her chain and heavy stake after her. She had had enough of wandering for to-day; she was tired of pulling and twisting, and running round and round on her hind legs ceaselessly. She was just as anxious as Dick was to get home; indeed, it was all he could do to get up with her, and lay hold of the iron stake, to prevent its catching in the underwood, and causing fresh delay.

Then on they went together, Jenny frisking along like quite a young goat, in all the gladness of freedom,

Dick following, almost breathless, behind, one hand holding her chain, the other tightly held inside his holland waistcoat over the hidden treasure.

Oh, what a happy triumphal procession it was— splash through the cool brown stream again, on through the prickly thistles, in for one moment to Mrs. Marsden's cottage to shout "all right!" into her poor bewildered ears, on through the pasture, and down the dusty road at almost a canter, faster and faster as Dick drew near to his mother, and Jenny drew near to the quiet paddock which she had forsaken that morning.

Baby was still asleep; Mrs. Radnor was in the doorway, knitting a pair of long grey hose, which were to cover Dick's legs in the winter. In a moment he was in her arms, with his mouth close to ker ear, and his hot flushed cheek against hers. Listen, mother! Mother, listen! I've found it!" Mrs. Radnor was proud and well-pleased with her boy, as old Jenny clattered round to the paddock, and one heavy burden of doubt and fear rolled off from her troubled spirit; she thanked and blessed kim many times in an instant, and scolded him almost as quickly, as her lips touched his burning cheeks, and her cool hand pushed back the mats of fair hair from his forehead.

But when he drew out his folded hand from his bosom, and showed her Miss Ethel's watch and chain, and the diamond seal hanging to it, Mrs. Radnor was silent. She, too, felt as if it were almost too much, too great good fortune to have come in their way, too great a blessing to have fallen to their share. It was not for some time that she seemed quite to understand it, and then Dick's simple story and child-like faith brought back strength to her own weary and heavy-laden heart, beyond the worth of gold; and she and Dick had a happy hour together, before the other boys came in, white with heat and dust, and churlish with disappointment.

"It's unfair; I say it's awfully unfair!" Stephen muttered, angrily, striding out of the cottage again, as the whole truth suddenly broke on him; and as he spoke, the gold of Miss Ethel's watch and chain dimmed under little Dick's eyes, as he stared down

at them.

But the cloud soon passed away, for Bruce, who was older and braver than Stephen, drew near to Dick, and, putting his arms round his little brother's neck, asked him, coaxingly,

"What will you do with the money, Dick-with the grand two pounds, old boy?" And then poor little Dick had his first sweet taste of pure unalloyed pleasure as he told Bruce that mother had said that she thought the two pounds would buy the Belgian bird in the new cage, and the bat and ball, and the red hood for baby, and pay next week's rent, and have a good many shillings over; and Dick whispered to Bruce, though he did not tell his mother, that with these good shillings he intended to buy the nice grey

knitted shawl for her that he had seen in the village shop window.

Bruce was greatly pleased; and Stephen-who was not half such a bad fellow after all, and really fond of his little brother-came in soon, with his temper greatly improved, and an armful of ivy for Jenny. Baby woke up from her sleep in a good temper, too, as if she knew all about it; and that was a very happy night in the cottage, and Dick was the happiest there, with a pure unselfish smile on his face, and a pure unselfish joy in his heart, for although the rector lived five miles away, and the two pounds could not be claimed until to-morrow, already Dick had his reward, for he had done the thing that was right; he had not pleased himself, but he had helped others, and been obedient to his mother, and Dick felt as if he wanted nothing more, for "The blessing of the Lord it raketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.”

"THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. 71. It is stated of Eastern houses that many have an outside staircase leading from the top into the street. Mention a passage in which such a means

of exit is referred to.

72. In what way did Saul, King of Israel, come by his death?

73. What warriors are mentioned in the Bible as having been slain by women?

74. Quote any passage which shows it was considered a deep disgrace to be thus slain.

75. On how many occasions is it stated in the New Testament that a voice spake from heaven?

76. God is said to speak ofttimes to men in the stillness of the night. Mention any king to whom God thus spake, in order to remind him of a faithful servant whom he had neglected.

77. What present did the Queen of Sheba bring to Solomon ?

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS ON PAGE 160. 60. That it was expedient for Jesus to die for the people, and so gather together in one all the people of God (John xi. 50-53).

61. The north wind driveth away rain" (Prov. XXV. 23).

62. To Arabia (Gal. i. 17).

63. That he came to urge upon the children of Israel not to keep in captivity at Samaria their brethren, the children of Judah, whom they had taken in battle, lest God's wrath should come upon them also (2 Chron. xxviii. 9-12).

64. Three years. "My servant Isaiah hath walked naked and barefoot three years for a sign and wonder upon Egypt and upon Ethiopia" (Isaiah xx. 3).

65. "Without father, without mother, without descent, having neither beginning of days nor end of life" (Hebrews vii. 3).