the prayer taught by our Divine Master, "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil;" and to every soul, whatever its acquirements, comes the exhortation, "Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation." The unregenerate heart may think that there is no danger, that the path of life is a path of ease, and that its own strength is sufficient to meet every peril to which it may be exposed; but how differently are we taught in the Word of God! There we find life set forth as a journey, a scene of probation, and we as pilgrims, whose walk here is amidst dangers, each bearing within us an immortal treasure, committed to our trust by the King of that country whither we are journeying. For its safe-keeping and its improvement each one is responsible; and, knowing our weakness, for each is provided two able and willing helpers-Jesus, the High-priest, who, having been himself tempted, is able to succour those who are tempted; and the Holy Ghost, the Comforter.

To those who, with wary steps, and careful earnest hearts, are travelling on, there comes the gracious message, "God is faithful, who will not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able to bear;" and far on, in the distance, Jesus holds up to their view the golden crown and harp, bidding them walk steadfastly on their way, with that wonderful promise: "To him that overcometh, will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne."

The hidden evils of our hearts, our selfish desires, our grasping after earthly pleasures, our low and ignoble hopes, even our bodies, with their appetites, are all to be subdued, before the soul shines in the beauty of holi

ness.

Our senses must be made the willing channels of none but pure pleasures; our tastes must be cultivated to a high appreciation of things lovely in the sight of a holy God; while our affections must hold all earthly

objects of love subordinate to the claims of our heavenly Father.

"Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines," said the wise king. Take us the sins, the little sins, that ruin the soul, we would say to every youth to whom future character is a matter of interest or effort. It is the little sins that make up the whole evil character, even as drops fill the rivers, and the rivers swell the mighty occan. Think no failing too small or too trivial to be watched and striven against; and let these words help you in your struggle:-"He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much."

Carelessness of personal appearance, carelessness of manners, carelessness of words, and carelessness of morals; these are all temptations in a new country. The same reason that prompts to unmindfulness of one's appearance, makes a person chary of their words of welcome and politeness. The temptation to be witty leads to slang phrases and stories without truth, while this, in its turn, blunts the perception of what is true and desirable; and the whole moral man is injured. Little do those whose homes are guarded by Christian watchfulness, and whose lives are passed amidst Christian communities, surrounded by all the amenities and usages of well-ordered society, realize how much of their safety they owe to these restraints, or with how much reason they too might say, “Thou preventest me with the blessings of goodness."

"Aunt Rachel," who has before been introduced to our readers, was quite a favourite with the younger members of the Moreton family. The respectful attention they paid her, and their uniform kindness to her little grandson, who bore the lofty name of Count Sobieski, had gained her confidence. It was in their power to perform many small acts of kindness for her, and she, in her turn, was always ready to meet them with a cordial greeting. If they stopped to pay her a passing

visit on their way from school, she often had some little offering for them, such as a few plums, a peach, a cup of maple-sap, a baked potato, hot and smoking from the hearth, or a generous slice of cake, full of dried whortleberries, which, with true Western hospitality, she urged upon them.

But the readiness with which she met their unwearied demand for tales of adventure and of personal history was the great attraction which drew them so frequently to her cabin. Her life had been full of change. A comfortable but plain Connecticut home had been exchanged, at the early age of eighteen, for a cabin in the woods of Michigan, where, for six years, she lived and laboured as the wife of a Methodist missionary-preacher. His death was her first great sorrow; but, with two young children to support, she had no time to spend in grief and fruitless mourning. After a struggling life of two years or more, she married again, and removed to Indiana. Here her happiest years were spent, though toil and some hardship fell to her lot. Her children left her for homes of ́their own; and when her husband, Mr. Whitely, died, she gathered up what property she could, and left the farm to the care of a tenant, that she might spend her last years with her kindred. Her son had removed from his first location, no one knew whither; but her daughter was a resident in Lakeland, and there a cheerful welcome awaited her. It would seem that there she might find rest, but it was not thus to be. The sudden falling of a tree, which her son-in-law was cutting down, so injured him, that, after a year of suffering, he died; and, in a few months, his wife followed him to the grave. Thus was the little grandson thrown entirely upon her care; and her sole object in life was to keep the farm his father left, not only entire, but in some order for him, till he should be old enough to work it.

It is easy to see that, with an unimpaired memory, and

a good deal of natural shrewdness, aunt Rachel Whitely had at her command a fund of stories that possessed great charms for listeners. One tale of an adventure with her first husband, when, in riding through the woods, they had encountered, or rather seen, a female wild-cat, fierce and resolute to protect its young ones, had great attractions for Charlie. To be sure it ended in nothing but their being wonderfully frightened, and whipping up their horse to get out of its way; but, in his estimation, it made her a heroine.

Then she sometimes let her imagination take the reins, and would describe the beauties of the woodland scenery, and the brilliant autumnal nights; or else she invented personages and scenes in the fable form, that she might convey instruction to her hearers.

Further than that, she had dwelt three years near the royal hunting-ground of Tecumseh, and was familiar with the traditions and legends connected with his history, as well as with those of Pontiac, the famous Indian chief. She had herself received frequent visits from parties of the Pottawatimie tribe, and could tell of dealings between them and her husband, and of their sorrowful countenances as they began to realize that they were perishing as a nation.

Occasionally she would revert to her own home experience; and then she would not fail to mingle with her narrative words of Christian love and good counsel, and cheerfully recommend trust in the Almighty as the only sure foundation upon which to build happiness.

Thus it was that she alone, surrounded with the evils of poverty, and possessing few attractions personally, was yet enabled to do good in her humble sphere, and to prove that the Spirit of God can refine and elevate the tastes as well as comfort the hearts of his lowly followers.

CHAPTER XIX.

LETTERS.

AGAIN must we have recourse to a letter of Mary's, as the speediest and most agreeable manner of informing our readers of the state of affairs at Lakeland and about the Moreton farm, during the third year of their residence at the West:

LAKELAND, October, 18-.

DEAR FRANK,-Your letter, written upon the anniversary of your reaching , was received some days since. One year of the prescribed four has passed away quickly enough, to make us feel that the three remaining will soon be gone; but we have not yet become so accustomed to your absence as to feel that home is home without you, and it seems a long time to wait.

You would be surprised to see how much our place has improved. The grass this year entirely covered the site of the old log-cabin, and the trees bordering the carriagewalk and about the house were sufficiently grown to cast a shadow. The green blinds upon the house, the new barn, the arbour at the foot of the garden-walk, and the well at the top of the hill, with its real old-fashioned curb, seen against the sky, and the new fences, these are all this year's improvements, in the true dictionary sense of the word, as well as in its Western meaning. Within the house, the great change has been the arrival of uncle Alfred's present--the new piano; and such a source of pleasure as it is! For a few days we made it sound incessantly; now, it is not silent long at a time; and I find I shall readily regain my knowledge of playing. Being the first instrument of the kind in the village, it has attracted considerable attention, and, I can assure