brethren whom she had never seen; and, moreover, what could he do in the matter? The order for the slaughter of the Jews was already sealed and sent out, and a royal decree could never be recalled.

The king wished to content his queen and Mordecai, his new councillor, but he did not wish to be further troubled about the matter; therefore, as he had done to Haman, so now to Mordecai he gave his ring, and bade him do what he would. The only plan which occurred to Mordecai was that wherever the decree for the slaughter of the Jews had gone forth another letter should be sent, giving them the king's leave to defend themselves, and in their turn to fall on their enemies.

A cruel fashion it seems to us of righting a wrong, and we cannot but turn our eyes away from the

details of the terrible strife and slaughter which followed-a strife in which the Jews were everywhere victorious, so that they became a great power in the nation.

We are glad to turn away, and to fix our thoughts only on the beautiful picture of the young queen, who, supported by the prayers of all her people, and full of love and self-sacrifice, dared her life for their deliverance.

This is the moment in Esther's life which stands out as noble, and which gives meaning to the long years spent in a tyrant's palace. For she must have felt that once at least God had given her a task to do, and that the words of Mordecai's message had been fulfilled-"Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?"

13. (a) The grandfather of some young men who lacked courage in their profession. (b) A country, the inhabitants of which were fearfully denounced by the prophets for their cruelty to the people of God.-With the names of the above form the name of a man to whose care was committed a treasure which proved his blessing.

14. (a) A city in which a noted wanderer sought refuge, but did not find it. (b) An idol, before which a believer in the true God prostrated himself.-With the names of the above form the name of a city given out of one of the tribes of Israel to another tribe.

15. (a) A place where a heathen deity obeyed a servant of God. (b) A city which was fortified by a descendant of David, and which, in the reign of a wicked king, fell into the hands of enemies.-Give a name applying to each.

16. (a) A town mentioned as allotted to one of the Twelve Tribes, and towards which turned a band of enemies, who had invaded Israel. (b) A town where was a tree, beneath which a heavenly visitant rested.-Give a name borne alike by both.

17. From the name given to a well of water round which, it is said, the owners could live in peace, take the first part of the name of a ruler of Israel, and so give the name of the father of a king defeated by a king of Israel, who, for this conquest, was blessed by an enemy of the fallen sovereign.

18. To the name of an ancestor of Abraham add the first part of the name of an altar built in gratitude for a great mercy; and so give the name of a grandson of a man who had been compelled to become a wanderer.

19. (a) A place where the Israelities rested during their

journey to the land of Canaan. (b) A city in the direction of which an instrument of war was stretched out as a signal of its destruction. With the names of the above form the name of a mountain, said, in figurative language, to have dissolved.

20. To the name of a king, who made an excavation, afterwards filled with the bodies of men treacherously slain, add the first part of the name of a city which traded in the one thing for which it was famous, with the most important merchant city of its day; and so give the name of a man who was slain by a great warrior in self-defence.

21. Give the name of a man who built up a great family, and after whom one of the chief supports of an important edifice was called.

22. Give a name applying to each of the following :(a) An unjust judge, whose wickedness helped to bring on a great change in the affairs of his country. (b) The grandmother of a man, who bore the same name as a city which was the birthplace of one of the prophets, and to which belonged a woman of note.

23. (a) A living thing to which the Psalmist, when in distress, compared himself. (b) A place that in time of battle caused the death of more people than were slain by

the sword. With the names of the above form the name given, in a prophetical book, to a luminous body.

24. Give the name of a descendant of one of the sons of Noah, who bore the same name as a place noted for a substance which, though rich, would not, it is said in the prophets, be as valuable as a man, in the time of the visitation of God's wrath upon a great city.

Three times, one after another, came the summons, in a cautious whisper. The third time a curly

brown head slowly raised itself an inch or two upon the little bed opposite, with a sleepy "What's the matter?"

"Hush! don't make a noise. I want to borrow ninepence out of your box."

The head fell back abruptly upon the pillow. "I shan't lend any more; you borrowed a shilling on Thursday, Jack, and there's hardly any left." Jack slipped noiselessly out of his bed and across to his younger brother's.

"And you might think I never meant to pay you back, by the fuss you make about it. Besides, you don't know what it's for yet; just wait till you hear. Draw up your feet and make room."

Laurie gathered up his knees to his chin obediently, and lent a willing ear, while Jack, who was the hero of his small life, unfolded his latest project.

"I couldn't tell you before, for I hadn't made up my mind," began the hero, loftily. "I waited to think it over first; it was that made me so late home yesterday afternoon."

"It was what?" from Laurie.

"Aren't I telling you as quick as I can? I met

Jim Potter as I was coming out of school, and we went up to Hill's farm. He's got the loveliest lot of young rabbits in the barn you ever saw, five of them, all black and white; and he says," concluded Jack, his voice sinking to a still more impressive whisper, "he says I may have the lot for two shillings; and I've got one-and-threepence towards it

there!"

Laurie sat up, fully roused at last. "But, Jack, will Aunt Jane let you? Don't you remember how she sent away that yellow dog you bought once? She called him a cur, too."

Jack's face gloomed over at the recollection. "Ah! but she won't have the chance this time. I shan't let her know anything about them. I shall keep them up in the top attic-that corner by the window. Nobody ever goes up there, and I shall creep up very softly and take lettuces and cabbage | leaves-oh! and bran; that's all they need."

"Jack, would it be right?" hesitated Laurie. | "You are sure to be found out."

"Of course it's right," protested Jack stoutly. "Don't be such a baby; if it's just because you want to keep your ninepence, say so. But there's Aunt Jane now."

For Aunt Jane, hearing the smothered voices, opened the door and looked in briskly.

And so Jack reluctantly had to go back again. Nevertheless, the negotiations were concluded that day. Tender-hearted Laurie produced the required ninepence from his diminished fund, and Jack surreptitiously prepared an empty box for the new-comers up in the disused attic. Under the circumstances he dare not venture to hammer the orthodox lattice-work across the front, so its place was supplied by some rusty wire netting that he abstracted from the hen-pen. A saucer of bran and a lettuce were put inside, and then, the arrangements complete, he went off to afternoon school.

Laurie was watching eagerly for him at the garden gate by four o'clock, but it was nearly six before his brother's figure loomed through the dusky twilight. "It's all right, Laurie," he said, in an excited whisper," I've got them. Look, as soft as silk."

Behind the big lilac-tree he opened the rush basket about an inch. The "look" was not practicable in the dim light, but there was a little rustling noise inside, and a "feel" of something truly as soft as silk under their trembling fingers. Jack shut the basket, and they slipped quietly into the house and up the stairs.

There was only one minute to instal the little strangers in their new quarters, and bring the saucer of bran under their notice, not one to judge of the effect; and then the two conspirators stole softly down to the dining-room.

"Are you quite well, Laurie?" asked Aunt Jane, kindly, noticing how little either of the boys ate. "I expected you both to be as hungry as hunters."

Laurie flushed scarlet; his share of the secret was a heavy burden upon his mind. "I don't want any more, thank you; but I'm not ill."

"I should think not," put in Jack. "It's just those lettuces he's been-been-" There he pulled himself up abruptly.

"What lettuces?" queried Aunt Jane. "I hope neither of you have been eating anything in the garden at this time of year; it might make you seriously ill. You must not go into the garden at all to play if you do.”

"Very well, aunt." And, to Jack's great relief, at that juncture a visitor most opportunely appeared on the scene, and left them free to escape back to the attic.

"Jack," said Laurie, regarding the little shivering band in the corner of the box rather apprehensively, "do you think we ought to have taken them away from their mother? They don't look very happy." "Of course we ought," returned Jack, decidedly. "It's a kind of orphanage for them; and didn't you hear papa reading out the other night about that one at-at-I forget the name of the place, but it doesn't matter (Jack always did forget names, even

in his lessons, where it did matter), and he said how good it was of people to make places where little creatures who had no mothers could be taken care of? That's just what I'm going to do for these little things. What would become of them if I didn't I should like to know?"

This was putting the matter in a new light. Laurie looked respectfully at his philanthropic brother, who was trying to insinuate a cabbage-leaf into one little mouth, and doubted no more.

Three or four days went by-bitterly cold days they were. Jack and Laurie found it a difficult matter to collect parsley and lettuce enough for the orphanage out of the frozen beds, but the ponds and streams froze gloriously. On the Friday night their father brought home two pairs of skates, one for each of them.

"Now, my boys," he said, "if you are ready at two o'clock to-morrow, I'll take you both to the park and teach you how to use them."

The doctor went away into his study, and the boys, after a prolonged examination of their new property, to their lessons. "Six fours are twenty-four," chanted Laurie at his end of the table; "six fives are thirty-Oh! Jack," in a hushed whisper, we have forgotten the rabbits to-night."

Jack dropped his book aghast, "So we have ; I'll run up now."

"Jack, where are you going?" said Aunt Jane, lifting her eyes from her knitting. "Come back to your lessons."

It was not till they went up to bed that the boys found a chance to slip up the attic stairs. The little family looked less happy than they had the night of their arrival. Jack looked down at them in some perplexity. "I don't know how they contrive to get into such a mess; such little things too."

Laurie was watching one small white one closely. “Jack, I'm quite sure that one is going to be ill; do let us ask papa about it."

"No we won't," returned Jack, angrily. “There is nothing wrong with it. I'll get them some fresh hay to-morrow, and perhaps some bread and milk. Come down; we shall be caught."

The frost was keener than ever the next day, and long before two the boys were waiting im patiently outside their father's door. Punctually to the moment he came out and joined them.

It was a glorious afternoon's fun, and it lasted till the last gleam of daylight had departed, and then, tired and happy, they came home to tea.

After tea the inevitable lessons. In the midst of them, for the first time that day, Jack remembered his rabbits. He finished first, and went out of the room with a silent signal to Laurie to follow.

He got a handful of hay from the horse-rack, and then he looked into the larder. The milk was not to be easily got, so he contented himself with a piece of bread broken off the loaf.

The dark, cold attic seemed darker and colder than usual. He propped up his wax taper between two musty books, and slid back the box lid. The little creatures were crouching in the corner; they did not stir when he put the bread in. He touched them gently; all cold and still, except one trembling pair of ears. A great fear crept into Jack's heart. He ran down into his own room; his clean flannel shirt was lying upon the bed, ready for morning-it was the only thing at hand, and he took it back and wrapped the little starved creatures in it, while he tried to thaw them with his breath.

A few minutes later, Laurie's feet came pattering up the stairs. "Aunt Jane has got a lovely cake, and she says we are both to have a slice, forOh! Jack, what is the matter?"

Jack lifted a despairing face. "They are all dead, and I've killed them! Ask father to come up."

The doctor came back with Laurie a minute later. He took in the bearings of the case at a glance, and, without asking any questions, bent down and looked at the little victims. It was too late for help, and presently the last quivering pair of ears grew still, and Jack's head went down upon them in an agony of grief, and he cried bitterly.

His father sat down on the box and waited patiently. Laurie was crying too.

"Jack, my boy," he said, breaking the silence, "you must never trifle with the life of a dumb, helpless creature again. Do you think you were doing right to deceive us all, and keep them shut up here where no one could help them?"

"We meant to be so good to them," explained the tearful Laurie. "It was because of Aunt Jane; she said we weren't big enough to have animals."

"Aunt Jane was quite right," said his father, gravely; "this proves it."

"Yes, she was right," sobbed Jack; "it was all my fault."

His father laid his hand upon his bowed head. They won't have died altogether in vain, my boy, if it teaches you to be kindly and gentle to every dumb, helpless creature about you."

"And we'll never have another orphanage without telling father first; will we, Jack?" said Laurie, creeping up beside his mourning chief.

There was a little funeral at the end of the garden the next morning, when Jack's ill-fated orphans were buried under the big pear-tree. The grass grows green over the place now, but it will be a long, long time before the sight of a rabbit ceases to be a reproachful reminder to them of that sorrowful little tragedy in the attic. SARAH PITT.

T is just eight years ago-a dull, foggy, drizzling November morning-that Fred and Bert Weston took it into their prank. ish heads to distinguish themselves in their little world, though their mad brains never conjured up or pictured the lasting results thereof. The two small, eight-years-old twin brothers, with their little pert-nosed dog, Smiler, led a somewhat solitary life in their grandfather's old gabled house just outside the ancient town of Asterly, their two elder brothers going to and from the grammar. school there. Very patriarchs were they to their small brothers, because they were nearing the venerable ages of fourteen and sixteen.

But to my story. Guy Fawkes' Day-that day of days to all wild, young spirits-was delightfully near, and this year the grammar-school lads were to have a grander display of fireworks than usual, all of their own manufacturing, with the aid of the masters.

"We shall go to see them," affirmed the two young Westons, as they kept about with their elder brothers, who stood talking it all over at their grandfather's back gates.

"No, you won't, we won't have you; such little 'uns as you ought to be in bed at that hour," said Hugh loftily; and he bade them go and attend to their own affairs, with his usual want of sympathy with them and their childish pleasures.

"I know what we'll do; we'll have some fireworks all to ourselves and you may keep your old rubbishy things to yourselves," returned Fred. And Bert cried

"So we will! so we will!" wheeling round on one leg, and snapping his fingers at them both. "Best not, or you'll blow your heads off," observed Jack.

"We will," affirmed Fred.

"Try it on, old fellow, try it on," said Jack, while the mist seemed to clutch and beckon like friendly grey-gloved hands bent on warning them.