The clergyman sat by the bedside of the poor sufferer until the clock struck five. She had laid bare before him the whole story of her little life, with all its lights and shades, its shortcomings and backslidings, its aspirations and disappointments, its idealism and its dreams. The simple story of the life of an upper nursery-maid, however well informed or well conducted, can have but little interest for the reader. It will, therefore, be sufficient to say that no dark sin had cast its shadow over her young heart; but yet she was not at ease. How could she be so? She felt that her life, however the world might call it blameless, had been one of carelessness and indifference as to the things that concerned her everlasting peace. If she could have been at her ease, then would Christ have died in vain. If such a fond and faithful heart could have lived entirely for the world's refinement and the world's caresses, and been quite at ease, it would have been indeed extraordinary. But, alas! God is true, though every man be a liar. "She had not been happy," she said. Amidst all she wanted, and much more than she wanted, there was-it is no contradiction to say so-something else she wanted. She knew not what it was; she yearned and longed for something that she could not name or define. The hour was come for her to learn; and that fond and ardent temperament clung to it with a passionate eagerness that would have puzzled a sceptic. It was a pleasant labour to sit by the bedside of that poor girl and tell her of Him who came down from heaven to

might be saved-tears filled her large black eyes, and hope that refreshes the weary, and faith that brings salvation, and love that shall hide a multitude of sins, descended to make their nest in that fitting tabernacle. The work of grace was begun-the mystic Dove had brought the olive-branch from heaven; and as the clergyman rose to take his leave, the repentant sinner laid her head on her pillow in peace, for she trusted she would be accepted. She had found that love keeps the key of heaven. She knew that nothing could ever again separate her from the love of Christ.

Now that clergyman had for some time paid a little attention to medical subjects and seen something of the old plan of treating diseases and something of the new system. No doubt all such matters ought—at least people say so-to be left entirely to those whom the law, whether rightly or wrongly, pronounces to be alone qualified to understand them. Perhaps he had a lurking suspicion that when Jesus of Nazareth told His ministers to "heal the sick," He meant something by the words-meant, in fact, what He said. And, perhaps he thought, foolish and mistaken man! that it was part of the duty of a minister of Him who characterised His own career by healing every one who came to Him, to endeavour to follow his Master in that as well as in preaching the gospel.

Perhaps that silly country parson thought that alleviating the pains and sufferings of others was quite

s much suited to his profession as poking into all the buried lumber of days that brought to man neither

light, knowledge, nor blessing; reviving the monstrous follies of medieval art in order to bring himself and others to the very verge, if no further, of Romanism; and studying how to make even Christianity unamiable in the sight of his flock by the narrow spirit in which he received it and the harsh temper in which he preached it. Let us pity the poor man's ignorance in silence. So it was that he had picked up some little knowledge in these matters. A glance was sufficient to show what sort of a constitution that patient possessed, and, with a few questions, to furnish a clue to the medicine harmonic to her case. The circumstances of that case were as follows. Just eleven weeks previously she had been seized with illness at the residence of her mistress. Some medical man-no doubt " Our medical man "-"the medical man in whom we have 'confidence," " was summoned directly. Under his care she had, very naturally, and like a good and sensible girl, grown worse and worse. She got thinner -and she got weaker and she coughed more-and she slept less-and she could not play with “ our children" any longer, which was a serious matter indeed. At last nostalgia was added to her other symptoms; and, as our medical gentleman found her rebellious to his pills and powders, and as she longed so much to be with those whom she loved even more dearly than her young charges-that is, her own dear mother and sisters-her mistress kindly gave her leave to go home for awhile, adding, like a good lady, a strict injunction, that the best medical advice should be pro

C

vided at her expense. The grateful child felt deeply so much kindness. "My mistress," she said, "is always very good to me. Was it not kind of her to think of me, and to order that I should have the best advice at her expense?" Poor girl! She had read the "Wreath " and the Amaranth," and such matters; but she had not read the "Tenth Satire of Juvenal;" and she did not know that

66

"Evertere domos totas optantibus ipsis

Dii faciles."

What dire Nemesis pursued this poor girl and made her so interesting merely that she might be undone by the very interest she inspired? A few blemishes the more-a few graces the less-a black tooth—a cross temper―a squinta vulgar accent-and she might have sickened and no mistress have pitied her, and recovered and no medical man have interrupted God's healing measures. But when she employed her leisure hours in nursing those attaching qualities with which nature had somewhat prodigally endowed her, she did but

"Nurse the pinion that impelled the steel."

They thought she wanted medical aid. Ah! it was provided for her and no mistake! Draught and pill, dose and drop had done their work on her. Herb and metal had made a simultaneous inroad on her constitution. The lancet, that "mighty instrument of little men!" had let forth as much of life as it could do, and melancholy leeches had been fished up from inhuman-looking bottles to achieve what the shining

steel had but partially accomplished. Poor pale child! she lay a-dying! She wanted the gentle spiriting of dynamic agents, and they gave her exhausted veins the lancet! She wanted blood, and they fixed leeches on her and bade them suck as the stoat sucks the rabbit's throat. She wanted calm, and rest, and food, and sweet sleep, and harmonious reaction, and all gentle and pleasant things in unison with her kindly temperament; and the red republic of pill-boxes marshalled on the chimney-piece told too true a tale of doses that would have prostrated Goliath of Gath as effectively as the smooth stone that sank into his forehead. Poor pale child! she lay a-dying! She wanted magnetism. And doctor, mistress, sister, mother-all combined to give her a full supply of mercury!

Now there was no difficulty at all in making a very good guess as to the origin of her complaint, and as little, as has been said, in finding the remedy that would have harmonized with it. It was quite clear that an inflammation of the lungs-the result, probably, of uterine disturbance, accompanied probably, also by derangement, if not suppression, of the ordinary statehad been her original complaint, and had been treated as if it were an idiopathic inflammation. After eleven weeks' curing, it had been complicated with many symptoms, mercurial and others, which could not escape observation. But there was no mistaking what ought to have been the remedy. The cough, tickling, for the most part dry, but sometimes with a little expectoration of mucus, at times tinged with blood, with pains c 2