cessful men of our day, he had not sacrificed the comforts and innocent pleasures of life to his desire for gain. No man was happier at home than he, and none had a better reputation for uprightness and kindliness of heart.

A pleasant man to meet was Squire Brownlow. He had a ruddy, merry face, with hair and whiskers almost white, and always looked as clean and fresh as a spring morning. He wore a tall white hat, with a broad, a very broad, brim, and a light grey suit of clothes. Moreover his carriage, an old-fashioned four-wheel, was painted strawcolour, and he always drove a fine grey horse, which looked as clean and neat as himself.

No wonder then that when first the grey horse, then the strawcoloured carriage, and last the light suit, passed in succession into the playground, that all the boys instantly stopped in their lessons, and began to wonder what on earth he had come for. Some of the boys whose consciences told them they had a fondness for stone-throwing wondered if he had come with a pocketful of summonses on account of broken windows. Gus Brookes trembled lest he had come to complain of damages done to the fences during a cricket-match lately played in a meadow which he had lent for the occasion.

No sooner had the carriage stopped than the squire got down, and walking into the school greeted Mr. Stanton in a loud, deep voiceit would have been odd for a big man like him to have a small one. After a few remarks about the weather and the crops, Mr. Brownlow asked Mr. Stanton if he could spare a few minutes as he wanted to have a word or two with him. The schoolmaster replied in the affirmative, and led the way across the playground to his house, where his visitor explained the object of his coming.

"You see, Mr. Stanton, one of my clerks is going to leave, and I intend moving the others up; so I want an office-boy, and I should like you to recommend one from among your pupils."

664 "I suppose you will require a premium, and give no wages at first ?" said Mr. Stanton.

"No, no! I tried that at one time, but it did not pay. The lads who brought a premium were too conceited; they wanted my place. One actually told me he could not think of carrying out a small parcel I wanted sent. No; I want an honest, industrious lad, who has a tolerable head-piece, and who doesn't mind running errands or making himself useful in other ways now and then. I shall give five shillings a-week to start with, and it will be the boy's own fault if he doesn't rise to be manager. Mr. Parsons at Rudham Mill recommended a lad named Lindsay-Edward Lindsay, I think."

"That was the very boy I was thinking of naming, only I was not sure if his father would like him to leave school yet. It would be almost a pity to take him away now."

"As to that," said the squire, "his father is quite willing for him to come, and if you think he will suit me, perhaps you might arrange to meet him one or two nights a week for further study."

"I shall be very pleased to do so, and I can assure you I have every confidence in Edward's character and capacities. Perhaps you would like to see him?"

"Thank you, I should."

With that Edward Lindsay was fetched out of school, to the great astonishment of all the boys, and no less to his own bewilderment, and marched into the presence of the great man of the district. Of course Ted was somewhat awed, and answered timidly the questions which the shrewd old gentleman put.

"Come, don't be frightened, my lad," said Squire Brownlow, in his kind, cheery voice; "I shan't eat you. I have not long since had a good breakfast. You should never be afraid of anybody."

Edward laughed at this, and soon feit more at ease, for he saw that the old gentleman was looking kindly at him out of his soft grey eyes.

After examining Ted's copybook, the squire set him some rather difficult sums in practice, in which he had to find the value of so many hundredweights, quarters, and pounds of butter at a certain price per pound; and then so many pounds of cheese at so much per hundredweight. Ted was very well prepared for such sums, and he got most of them right. But what surprised and perplexed him was that Mr. Brownlow could find the correct answer to all these sums without putting down a single figure. He had no idea how constant practice developes the faculties of the mind, and little dreamt that one day he should be able to solve questions even more difficult by means of mental arithmetic.

Throughout the interview the squire never once intimated to Edward Lindsay the motive he had in view in questioning him; but when he had satisfied himself, he said—

"Now, my lad, go back and mind your lessons; you seem to be getting on very well."

So Ted went back to his place as ignorant of the squire's purpose as were his fellow-pupils; and when in answer to their whispered questions, he could only say he didn't know why he had been sent for, one-half of them voted him a stupid fellow, and the others set him down as a sly one who was determined not to gratify their curiosity.

By-and-by the grey horse, the straw-coloured carriage, the light suit, and the jolly face of Squire Brownlow passed out of the playground, Mr. Stanton came back into the school, and the lessons went on just as usual, and when the day's work was done Edward Lindsay tripped off home more bewildered than ever, and not knowing whether to be pleased or not at the strange visit of the morning.

THE CHILDREN OF THE BIBLE.

V. THE MINISTERING SLAVE.

O secure the interest of my readers in the child of whom I now write, I need only say she was a slave. It makes our hearts sad to utter that word; while it at once calls forth our sympathy for the one to whom it applies. Then she was also a very young slave. This makes her case still more sorrowful. The gambols of the kitten on the hearth, and of the lamb in the field, remind us that young life is always playful. I need not ask you, my readers, whether you are fond of play. If you are healthy I may be sure of that. Your buoyant spirits seem equal to anything. That fresh, full life of yours is constantly gushing out in all sorts of lively expressions.

Your elders bid you sit still, forgetting how hard this is to you. Yes, children, you are fond of play, you never tire of it; and I say, "Play away, youngsters;" and I shall be delighted to watch youaye, and join you too, if only you put not play in the place of duty. But, what chance of play could there be for this poor child ?

Her slave-life was not likely to dispose her for it, even if it gave her the opportunity. Free work braces the mind, and makes the worker the happier for his toil; but slave work crushes the spirit, takes all sweetness out of life, and makes the slave

"To wish he were but in the grave,

And all his labour done."

There was one other thing which would tend still more to embitter the lot of this little girl-I mean the remembrance of her former home. One who is born a slave can only imagine the sweets of freedom but this poor girl knew them well, and the recollection of her former liberty must have increased the sense of her present bondage.

As the Bible tells us nothing about the childhood of this poor captive, we are left to picture this, and also the circumstances of her capture for ourselves. This we know: she was born in the favoured land of Israel, and was one of God's favoured people. From the reverence she afterwards showed for God's prophet, and the faith she had in his power, it is nearly certain she was a member of a family in which the fear of God prevailed. And if so, what a happy home she must have had! Here with father and mother and brothers and sisters the time went joyfully, and never did she dream of her coming misfortune. But on the northern borders of her country there dwelt a number of fierce tribes called Syrians, descendants of the original dwellers in Canaan. These, like the Philistines on the south-west, delighted to harass the people of Israel. They would come, without giving any warning, sometimes in small bands and sometimes in large armies, to plunder and lay waste with fire and sword the lands and cities of the Israelites. (Read 2 Kings, v.) One day, perhaps towards

evening, one of these companies is waiting near the home of our little maid. She, seeing that the sun is casting long shadows around, and that the day is hastening to its close, remembers her evening

duty; so placing her water-pot on her head she proceeds with graceful steps towards the spring. Passing outside the village, and perhaps singing as she goes, at length she comes to the old well. While in

the act of drawing she is startled by the sound of quick steps and fierce words, and in another moment the Syrians have surrounded her, bound her, and are hurrying her away. Oh, those piteous cries and beseeching words! Cannot one imagine them all? Dark night comes on, and yet she is borne away-away! every hour farther and farther from home and friends. In this or in some similar way the poor girl is separated from her home. How thankful English children should be that they are not now exposed to danger like this. Being brought into Syria the captive was made a slave in the household of Naaman; her special duty being to attend upon the great man's wife.

I daresay, my young friends, you sometimes look at the fine clothes of the rich, at their large houses and gardens full of flowers, at their horses and carriages too, and you think how happy these people must be! And you say if you had only a quarter as many things you would be very thankful. It is not unlikely this little girl before she was brought away from home had indulged similar thoughts. But in a way quite unlooked for she found herself suddenly placed among these very rich people. Being a quick girl, and going about with eyes and ears open, she soon learnt how great was the mistake of those who envy the rich.

The king's palace perhaps was not much grander than the house in which she dwelt, but the shadow of a great grief rested upon it, for its master was a leper. It is not possible to describe to you the nature of this disease, but so fearful was it that the little slave soon found that her master's lot was worse than her own. A rich man,

and yet none more poor and miserable! The heart of the captive was filled with pity. It might have been different. She might have said it served him right for keeping her a slave. But see what a forgiving child this was! Instead of rejoicing at her master's sufferings, as some would have done, she began to plan for his recovery. Yes, the lowly captive planned for the good of her proud master.

Children, may we not learn from the little slave the old lesson taught by Jesus of love even to those who injure us?

The little girl thought of the good man Elisha in her own land who had such wonderful power. "Cannot he cure my master?" She believes he can. She goes into the presence of her mistress. Doubtless the lady was surprised at her maid coming thus uncalled; but she soon gets the explanation. "Would to God," says she, "my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria! For he would recover him of his leprosy." It is likely that at first the girl got only a laugh for her pains. The idea that she should know anyone to cure her master! Had he not tried all the doctors his position could command or his wealth reward ? "But one went in and told his lord, saying, thus and thus said the maid that is of the land of Israel." And the rest of the chapter tells how surely the faith of this slave-girl was honoured. How the haughty Naaman was cured not only of his leprosy, but also of his pride, and of his hatred to the God of Israel.