a youth just passing out of mental infancy. One thing, however, that greatly contributed to (though it did not entirely cause) Tom's advancement was the instruction which he received from Miss Burton throughout the spring and summer months.

For some time Tom's teacher had thought that she ought to try to teach him to read; but she half feared that it might seem to be her duty to go and teach him at his own home-at that filthy cottage. She knew that Mrs. Robinson was in a very deplorable state, despised even by the less exemplary wemen of the village for her idleness, dirtiness, and disregard of the good opinion of others. She knew also that she could no more expect to induce this woman to change her habits and ways of life, to become a decent, cleanly, church-going, dutiful wife and mother, by visiting her, tract in hand, and treating her to a small lecture once a week or once a fortnight, than she could expect to change a thistle into a rose-bush by carefully anointing it every week with half a teaspoonful of rose-water. She knew that the only way by which she could reasonably hope to bring about a change, even in the outward details of Mrs. Robinson's life, was by getting her to look upon her as a friend, whom it would be a pain to displease and a pleasure to gratify. She knew also that if Mrs. Robinson would allow her to visit her cottage several times a week for the sake of teaching her son to read, she might in time come to have a great influence over her-an influence far greater than could be gained in any other way. Notwithstanding all this, Miss Burton did not feel inclined to undertake the task. She had not been thinking of the mother's improvement, but the son's; and she felt very doubtful whether she was capable of going to such a place and spending even half an hour in it three or four days a week, for weeks together. So she compromised the matter by inviting Tom to come to the summer-house for an hour's lesson on four days a week; and that the lessons might be the better valued, she limited the invitation to a month to begin with.

Tom gladly accepted the month's lessons. On the second morning he begged that his friend might come too. Miss Burton was glad to have him come, and provided him with pictures to look at during Tom's lessons. She found the mind of her pupil as empty as that of the deaf boy of any idea about countries, animals, or men, other than those he saw around him, without even the commonest furniture of the mind. Little by little she succeeded in filling the lad's mind with new ideas; each day the task grew easier; until at last she was surprised at his intelligence, and the tenacity with which his memory retained whatever he learned. So the

"THE QUIVER" BIBLE CLASS. Hezekiah that he should be healed of his sickness. 85. A remarkable sign was given by God to What miracle of a similar kind is recorded in the

Bible?

86. Account for the expectation among the Jews of the reappearance of Elijah before the coming of the Messiah.

87. Give the number of the prophecies uttered by Elijah, and name the persons against whom they were directed.

88. What instances from the history of Ahab may be adduced to show that he was a worse character than Jeroboam, the son of Nebat?

89. What is the title by which the memory of the iniquity of Jeroboam the son of Nebat is perpetuated?

90. What are the most convincing proofs we have in the history of Solomon that he turned aside from the Divine law and forgot the God of his fathers?

91. In connection with what event do we read for

the first time that God sees not as man sees; that man looketh on the outward appearance, but God looketh on the heart?

75. Exod. iv. 3, 6, 9. 76. Exod. xvi. 23.

hath said.”

"This is that which the Lord

77. God ordained that they were to be manumitted in the Sabbatical year (Exod. xxi. 2); but if they preferred their position of servitude, they could bind themselves without any limitation of time, "and he shall serve him for ever" (Exod. xxi. 5; Deut. xv. 16, 17); i.e., until the year of Jubilee, which was an exception made by God to this law, for then there was to be general emancipation, and a continuance of their service no longer (Lev. xxv. 10, 40).

Mary kissed her gently, then, suddenly exclaiming, "There he is!" ran out of the room to meet Dayrell at the street door.

Ruth slipped out of the drawing-room, up-stairs, and leaning on the window-sill, she indulged for a short time in dreaming, an occupation for which she had as great a predilection as ever. Often, when

she was alone, her thoughts travelled back to the happy time she had spent at "The Willows," as the Raes' house was called, with many wishes that the old days would return. Once, since she came to live in London, she had gone to visit the Raes, but that was four years ago now. She had been asked again, but Mr. Leighton had had an invitation to some other friends, for his daughters as well as himself, and though Ruth would have preferred infinitely to go to the Raes, she complied with her father's wish. The time had slipped on and on," and now all the Raes were away in Italy, except the doctor, as Mrs. Rae was in a very delicate state of health, and had been ordered to pass the winter in a warmer climate. Ruth thought how selfish she was to indulge in wishes for her own happiness, when her chief thought should be gladness for Mary.

"I wonder what papa will do without Mary," she thought. "I am afraid I shall be a very poor substitute for her in everything. I don't believe I could keep house well, and when he wants me to write letters for him, I know he won't like my writing. I never can write as neatly as Mary." Ruth began scratching her name on the window-sill with a pin. "Yes, it is funny writing. And then if I make tea it always seems so weak. I must be very stupid; I suppose that is why I am not happier. Suppose I were to turn over a new leaf, and try to remember everything carefully, when Mary is married; it would please papa, and it would show him I am not quite such a silly little childish thing as he thinks me. I will try. How I should enjoy being thought quite womanly, and I do believe papa would be really proud of me if I could be a little more useful."

As Ruth looked out of the window she resolved to improve herself, and to please her father by filling Mary's place efficiently, and as she formed this resolution the difficulties seemed to melt away, and her dread of housekeeping to vanish.

The bell rang for supper, and Ruth went down. She entered the dining-room as the others seated themselves at supper. Dayrell was there, and rose to greet her as she entered. He was a man near upon forty, good-looking, although his features were not regular. Naturally it was a very grave face; yet when he smiled there was something very fascinating in the intense change, and his smile was very charming in itself. "Have you been burying yourself like a mole that the light dazzles you so ?" asked Dayrell.

"No, but I have been up-stairs in the dark."

243

"What have you been doing there?" asked Mr. Leighton.

"Nothing," replied Ruth.

There was no remark from Mr. Leighton, but Ruth well understood the silence that followed her reply.

"I dare say that is not a strictly correct answer," observed Dayrell, smiling, "I shouldn't wonder if you were pretty well employed, if the truth were known."

"Apparently Ruth was doing nothing, or prefers us to think so," said Mr. Leighton. "It could not have been very profitable employment, if doing nothing is better than doing it, whatever it may be."

"I remember I first thought of and arranged my plan to improve the machinery at the factory, one evening when I was too lazy to ring for candles. Yet

I should not wonder if, like Ruth, I had answered nothing,' if anybody had asked me what I was doing. There are many more unprofitable employments than doing nothing' in the dark. The result of my improvements, Mary, is this," continued Dayrell, "that I am able to take my wife to a more comfortable home."

Mary looked up. "I am glad of that, if you are, but it does not matter, does it?" and they looked at one another in silence for a moment, speaking in a sort of language that needed no words. Ruth saw the look, and turned her eyes away, feeling she must not try to read thoughts which were not for her. She remained silent.

Dayrell spent all the week in London, and a few days before the wedding a sister of Mr. Leighton's came to London to see the last of Mary before she married, as she had always been a great favourite of hers. This sister had acted as housekeeper in a nobleman's family in Scotland, for some years, but she made occasional visits to London, to see her brother and nieces; at least she did not come to see Ruth exactly, for somehow or other she and Ruth never got on very well together.

The wedding-day came. It was a bright sunny morning in April, and Mary was married early. Immediately after the breakfast she and Dayrell started for the Lakes, where they were going to spend their honeymoon. On leaving, Dayrell told Ruth that he and Mary hoped to see her down at Manchester often, and this made Ruth find it easier to bear the parting.

Mr. Leighton had to go out on business in the afternoon, and Ruth and her Aunt Louisa had tea alone. The day had changed since the morning, and now the rain was coming down in torrents.

"When will your papa be home ?" asked Aunt Louisa, as she left the room after tea.