faith stretched but its trembling hand, resting upon those promises that will remain while "the elements melt with fervent heat, and the heavens be rolled together as a scroll." It was more easy for her to be reconciled to her personal affliction than the disgrace she felt was every day increasing in consequence of Mr. Willard's intemperance. Those graces that were always bright in prosperity or adversity were blended in the cha racter of Mrs. Willard, lighting up the dark path which she was now travelling. The word of God was indeed the shadow of a great rock in a weary land; and her soul rested upon these words. "In a little wrath I hid my face from thee a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee;" "My loving kindness will I not utterly take from him, nor suffer my faithfulness to fail." Thus strengthened by the word of God she was enabled to endure the wreck of fortune without a murmur. Mr. Willard made up his mind to move west. CHAPTER IX. THE CHRISTIAN'S FAITH. Shield us, O Lord, from dark temptation's power. And turn our night, O Father, into day, Shelter us in thine all-protecting arms, From specious sin's attacks-from pleasure's gilded harms. II II. Weld. SOME of Mrs. Willard's friends advised her not to accompany him; to this she paid no attention, but made such pre parations as were necessary for the journey. They started for what was then thought the "far off west." Their first stop was in the city of D. The dark muddy streets through which they were compelled to pass were in keeping, Odora thought, with their future prospects. Mr. Willard took his family to a public house, so low and degraded in its character, that once, Mrs. Willard would not have allowed a servant to have entered it. But now she was obliged to stay there with her husband and children, for at least a week, the roads being so bad that it was impossible to get teams to carry them into the country. During their supper, for which they had waited a full hour and a half, the landlady tried to entertain them by giving the full history of a man, who was to be hung that week for the murder of his wife. "They were both drunk," she added; "he only lived a few miles from here; he has been at our house a great many times. Only just the day before he killed her, my husband sold him a half barrel of whiskey. I presume they were both drunk on that when the quarrel commenced. The hanging bee will be to-morrow; we can all of us go,—it's only down here to the jail." A gruff voice just behind Odora's chair cried out, "I should like to be your escort then." Alba and Odora both looked around and shrieked as their eyes fell upon the most degraded piece of humanity they had ever seen, each taking tremblingly hold of their mother, and hastened to an adjoining room, where they hoped to be quiet. In this they were mistaken; there lay one in a state of intoxica was tion, while another sat reeling by his side, looking as though he would fall upon the floor the next minute. What was to be done? The oaths from the bar-room accompanying the loud and clamorous talk, forbade their going there. Mrs. Willard seemed paralysed by the scene before her. She undetermined what course to. pursue. Odora and Alba stood weeping by her side; but Mrs. Willard had no tears. Becoming almost desperate, she tore herself from the girls; with a firm step, and a dignified air, she entered the bar-room. The first person she met was the bloated form that frightened them from the kitchen; he had just drawn back his arm to strike a man that stood near him. Mrs. Willard seized it, and commanded him to desist. Making her way to her husband on the other side of the room, she asked him to accompany |