ness) for one month, unless she paid them more; to complete which, and to satisfy these wretches, she was obliged to sell her two oxen; and the poor woman was again reduced to work and labour hard with the pickaxe.-Life and Adventures of Nathaniel Pearce.

PATRICK O'CONNOR.

A Narrative.

(Concluded from page 530.)

FOR some time, the words of his father, whom, notwithstanding all, he dearly loved, had a visible effect upon the mind and actions of Arthur, insomuch that, at the time, he resolved to relinquish the acquaintance he had formed altogether.

Had this determination been immediately followed up, all would again have been well; but, alas! when resolutions are formed in our own strength, what are they good for? It is from this cause that, of so many which are daily formed, so few are carried into execution.

It was precisely thus with Arthur. He formed, indeed, his resolution, but failed to implore the guidance of Him whom his father worshipped, and without whom his conscience told him nothing could be done. The consequence was, that, when Maurice next presented himself, however the inward monitor might urge him, he wanted sufficient firmness and courage to withstand boldly; and thus, ere many weeks had passed, they were together as frequently, if not oftener than before.

As is always the case, a sad reverse of things was soon observable by all who knew the cottage. There was no longer that exact uniformity which had characterized all its proceedings. The quiet beauty of household love, and household piety, was marred. Not a day rolled on, not a table was spread, or prayer offered up, unembittered by the recollection that one of the formerly so happy family had thrown a cloud of sorrow over the rest; and the old man began in some measure to feel the strong ties which bound him to his home loosened. But this was not all. The reputation he had obtained among his neighbours for skill and management in business was on the decline; himself was growing aged, and incapable of labouring as he had done; and it may easily be imagined, that Arthur's intimacy with Halloran, carried on as it was in direct opposition to the wishes of his best friends, produced no very salutary effects. For it always happens, that acts of disobedience grow every day stronger,

by the influence of temptation; and each step of advancement in the course of sin, makes the heart firmer to withstand every good thought and work.

So long as any hope of amendment appeared, Patrick held his peace as much as possible; constantly, however, and earnestly, praying for the welfare of his son, and keeping a steady eye upon all his movements: but when the consequences of neglect and disobedience became too serious to be overlooked; when he could not avoid seeing that the longer things went on thus, the harder they would become to ameliorate, he resolved to exercise the authoritative interference of a parent, and accordingly took the earliest opportunity, when alone, of declaring his intentions. "Arthur," he began, "I am the father who has nourished and preserved you; from your earliest infancy till now, I have ever been watchful over your steps with an anxious eye and a prayerful heart. Tell me, have you ever seen aught in me which warrants on your part a disobedience of precept, and removal of affection?”

Arthur was silent.

He continued. "It is time, Arthur, that some change should take place; you have resolved to hear no warning voice, no friendly advice, as regards that Halloran; you have caused your parents to eat the bread of bitterness, and shed the tear of sorrow; to which things, ere you occasioned them, they were happy strangers. Your duties both to God and man are neglected, the confidence and love of a father and mother, which you have ever proved unabating and sincere, have been rejected, for the society of one whom the world has pronounced a villain!"

"The falsehood of the world, Sir," replied Arthur, "renders it more necessary that some one should stand up for those whom it belies. Maurice Halloran is my friend; however he may have acted towards others, he has been kind to me, and I scorn to relinquish a true friend to gratify the caprice of those whose tyranny I may be in some measure forced to undergo."

"Tyranny!" ejaculated O'Connor. "Arthur, Arthur! hold, provoke me not-but God will support me," he added, as if the Being whose name he uttered had suddenly shed a gleam of comfort over his mind. "But, oh! how can a father bear, after years of affection, days of watching, and nights of prayer, in behalf of his child, dearer to him than even life itself, to hear all those cares and anxieties called by that child, tyranny! God pardon thee, my

son.'

Arthur was somewhat moved at this display of his father's feelings, and he would fain have promised never to vex him again; but pride and resentment kept him silent.

"Did I not," said the old man, "feel well assured, that Heaven intends all for my good, I should be inclined to marvel at your conduct; so wicked, so unnatural, has it become. But you make not God your friend; you delight not in his ways: how then can it be otherwise? But hear me, Arthur, for your mother's and your sister's sake, for my own sake, and for the happiness' sake of us all, unless you wholly alter your conduct, I cannot allow you a place under this roof. For ages, the humble dwelling of O'Connor has been a dwelling of peace, and I should consider myself unfaithful to the memory of my departed ancestors, did I suffer any, how dear soever he might be, to inhabit here, who could break that peace which has so long blest

us."

Arthur's rebellious spirit was roused. "Nay, Sir," was his brief and passionate reply, "if the presence of your son in your house is a stumbling-block to your happiness, know that he can soon exchange it for one far more agreeable, far more inviting." May God grant,' earnestly replied the old man, 66 may God of his mercy grant, that wherever you go you may find as heartfelt a welcome, and as fond friends to greet you, as you would, were you a dutiful child, in your father's dwelling."

With these words they parted.-But the morrow discovered what effect they had produced upon the mind of Arthur. When the time came for the family to assemble, he was absent, and the day passed away without seeing or hearing any tidings of him. After waiting for some time without success, for his return, Patrick endeavoured to overcome his own feelings by soothing those of his wife and daughter. "Let us hope," he said, "that he may yet return, and all shall then be well; let us pray also." Thus saying, the old man knelt with his afflicted family before the throne of grace, and implored forgiveness for the wandering child who had so deeply fallen! If ever the offering of a father's prayer, mixed with the mother's and the sister's tears, were acceptable in the sight of Heaven, it was when this sorrowful family poured out their sorrows at the feet of Him who can pity the meanest of his creatures, and bring them in his own due time to rejoice in the deliverance he has wrought for them!

Weeks, months, passed away,-Arthur came not, neither was Maurice Halloran

ever seen near the cottage. O'Connor bore he desertion of his son in a manner con sistent with his character as a Christian; he was, moreover, a man of strong nerve, and whatever sorrow Arthur's conduct might cause him, (and much, very much, it undoubtedly did,) yet he considered that his wife and remaining child demanded his attention; he therefore buried his grief as much as possible in his own bosom, that he might the more easily act the part of a comforter to those who now doubly needed his care.

With Alice O'Connor the case was far otherwise. Adorning in all things the gospel of her Saviour, and living in an implicit obedience to its requirements, she was yet one of those tender lambs of his fold, who cannot always fathom the depth of his love and power. Arthur was her first-born, her beloved son, and to part with him under any circumstances would have caused unspeakable grief; but she would rather have seen him laid in the grave, cut off with hope and youth yet green upon his brow, than thus led away by one whom she knew to be a determined villain. The calamity was more than she could bear; her mind could not withstand the shock, and her bodily health by degrees became so enfeebled, that, to all human appearance, she could not long continue a sojourner in this vale of

tears.

This was another severe trial for Patrick, to see his beloved wife hastening to the land where all things are forgotten: but even here he murmured not! He had yet left him a beauteous, a dutiful daughter, and he felt her to be a blessing he scarcely deserved. But was his cup of bitterness yet full?

It was not!-The time was come when every earthly hope and earthly idol was to be destroyed, and he was to learn, when all the joys of sense were departed, to walk alone in the light of humble and submissive faith.

It happened one morning, about six months after Arthur's departure, that Catharine was required to proceed to a neighbouring town in order to procure some medicines for her afflicted mother. "We must leave nothing undone," said her father, as she prepared for her journey, "which affords us a hope of relieving thy poor mother, but God only knows, and, if he see fit, it belongs not to me to resist his will; yet the weight of sorrow hangs heavily on thy father's heart."

Catharine proceeded on her way; and her father entered the chamber of sickness, (for Alice seldom now left her room,) where he spent the hours in reading and

prayer, till it was nearly time for his daughter's return. She came not,-and a shadow of uneasiness passed across his breast when the village clock told the hour of noon, and Catharine was not at home.-Anxiously he waited; what could have detained her so long? Afternoon - evening came, but brought her not with them! It could no longer be borne: the wretched father set on foot to the town, where the only information he could gain was, that she had been, and received the medicines for her mother; but what became of her afterward he could not learn, nor did it appear that she had been seen by any one returning, although, on her way to the town, many persons, whose habitations she had passed, both saw and recognized her!

What unutterable grief did the poor old man now experience; it seemed as if, when compared with this, all his former troubles were as nothing. His son had departed from him;-his wife was on the bed of sickness, perchance of death ;-and now his dear beloved daughter, who promised afterwards, when all else was dark, to shine upon him; like the rainbow to his sorrows, -she too was gone! but how? Alas! the depth of his affliction was increased, by the ignorance of the manner of her departure. This could not be borne.-Stroke upon stroke had fallen upon these humble ones, and one was about to sink under them. The bitterness of death was in the cottage! It was feared that the first tidings of her daughter's disappearance would have sent Alice to another world; for a short time, however, she revived, and lay ming ling her tears with prayers, in behalf of those so dear to her, though now she knew not where. But it was not long! The fond partner-the doating, the heart-broken mother, the humble, yet bleeding Christian,--was hastening to the mansions of her Father another golden sun had not sunk beneath the western hills, when Alice O'Connor had reached that distant shore, where the joy of a moment can afford abundant compensation for all the ills of earth.

And now behold Patrick O'Connor, a lone miserable man, reft of each endearing tie which fettered him to earth and home; without a friend to comfort him in his affliction ! Oh, what a feeling of utter desolation is that, when the heart, which has long been used to lean sweetly upon the fond objects which surrounded it, is suddenly and rudely torn from all its joys, and left to bleed alone, without a kind hand to bind it up, without one resting-place where the wings of hope might fold them

selves and be at peace. But there is a voice which speaks peace to every troubled soul; and doubtless in the midst of all his misery, Patrick heard the soft breathings of that voice within, saying unto him, "This is the way, walk thou in it." That voice may be unheeded in the hours of sunshine and pleasure; but when the cloud of adversity is drawn across the horizon of the Christian, he feels, in its full force, the blessedness of that inward peace which comes from his God.

For a long time it went thus with him; and although the blanched cheek, the heavy sigh, and bitter tear, at times bespoke the bosom's utmost woe, yet in general he was calm: perhaps his nature might sometimes struggle with his resignation, but it could easily be seen from his ordinary deportment, that it did not obtain undue influence over him. He prayed much; and prayer always bears a man up when nothing else can, for seldom does an afflicted soul sincerely and humbly pour out its cares before its heavenly Father, but it feels as if an angel were sent from heaven to comfort it.

But the sad and settled serenity of his mind was yet again to be disturbed ;his only consolation now was, to meditate in secret upon the former happiness of his life, and contrast it with his present misery: but even this was ere long to be denied him; he was called upon to suffer yet more, that his crown, in the end, might be yet brighter.

He was sitting one evening at his cottagedoor, with the book of the Lamb open upon his knee: he had been reading that passage of his Divine Master's, " Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am," when he was suddenly interrupted in his solitude by the appearance of a man whose steps seemed directed towards the place where he was sitting, and whom he knew to be a servant of Mr. Halloran. When he was come near the outside of the long paling which surrounded the small cottage garden, he respectfully saluted the old man, and asked him in a faltering tone whether he had heard the news? On the quick and abrupt reply of Patrick in the negative, he seemed perplexed, as one who is desirous of communicating something he scarcely knows how to disclose. After a short pause, however, he began by cautioning O'Connor to be calm, as he was the bearer of bad tidings to him. The thought flashed across Patrick's breast like lightning; starting from his seat, and rushing wildly forward, he franticly exclaimed, "Man, if thou bring. est aught concerning me or mine, speak,

I conjure thee! Let me know all : O, my son, my son !"

The worst supposition which arose in Patrick's bosom, was, that Arthur, by some means or other, was no more. Although impatience of control had forced him from his home, although pride and obstinacy prevented his return, yet he never once conceived in it the slightest degree possible that Arthur would be led on to crime. Alas! how little did he think, how soon, in the society of the wicked, the virtuous impressions which years of care have stamped upon the heart, and years of prayer have watered, are defaced, and obliterated for

ever.

Judge then, the feelings of a father, when by degrees the fatal truth was developed, that the life of old Mr. Halloran had been attempted-attempted by Arthur!

"Great God support me!" exclaimed Patrick, as he staggered into the cottage, and for some time the intensity of his feel. ings forbade him to speak or move. On bcing, however, somewhat recovered, he entreated the man to disclose all he knew of the matter, which, after a while, he did in as gentle a manner as he could.

It appeared, that when Arthur left his home, he removed at some distance, to a place provided by Maurice Halloran, and unknown to all but him. The motive of Maurice in thus decoying away his friend, and furnishing him with a place of abode, was unknown; but it was generally believed, that he had some great object in view, to the accomplishment of which he designed Arthur as the instrument. But they had of late been less together than formerly, for Maurice had continued much at home, and manifested less desire to wander from it than he had done for many years. In his father's eyes this change seemed altogether for the better, and he hoped that his son, if not from any virtuous principle, at least from satiety and disgust, had begun to renounce the pursuits in which he had hitherto found pleasure.

Other persons, however, thought differently, and the gloomy sulkiness which took the place of former cheerfulness, added to a great dislike of hearing the name of O'Connor mentioned in his presence, gave many a strong persuasion that all was not right. Nothing, however, occurred till the sad transaction which involved Arthur in guilt and misery, and deprived a wretched father of the only dim ray of hope he could faintly dare to cherish in the world, that his son might one day be graciously influenced by the spirit of righteousness to retrace his

former paths of good conduct and happiness.

This was a still harder blow than any of the former; at least, Patrick thought it such. His family had been afflicted, almost extinguished, yet never, till this fatal day, had a shadow of infamy and disgrace been cast upon it; but now one of its members was branded with the name even of murderer, for there appeared no doubt of Arthur's guilt, since both Maurice Halloran, and a servant who accompanied him, were with the old gentleman at the time, and distinctly saw Arthur aim the blow.

When the old man was left to himself and his misery, pride, indignation, and parental affection by turns took possession of his mind; the latter, however, soon overcame all besides, and he resolved upon visiting his son in confinement.

Thus resolved, the first beams of morning beheld him on his way to the county town, which was distant about twenty miles. Much rain had fallen during the night. The wind blew cold and piercing, while he journeyed on with a heavy heart. After 66 a long and wearisome way," he arrived at the place of his destination, almost exhausted by the fatigue he had undergone. But how were his feelings again called painfully into action, when he beheld the dark walls of the prison, and knew that they held within their gloomy precincts his only-long-lost son! It was long ere he could summon sufficient courage to ring at the ponderous and iron-bound gate; and when he had so done, and was conducted across the prison court, on his way to the cell of his son, it was with difficulty he could suppress the strong emotions which agitated him, so as to walk steadily along. His conductor at length unlocked a small but strong door, and discovered to the old man the being whom he had come to seek, seated in gloom and despondency upon the foot of a low bedstead. The man immediately retired, after having named an hour as the longest period they would be permitted to continue together.

Arthur's face was buried in his hands, as if he felt ashamed to meet the sorrowful glance of a parent whom he had so bitterly grieved. The old man placed himself beside his wretched son, on the miserable pallet, and they formed a mournful picture of that utter desolation and distress which absorbs every other sense and feeling, but which it is not in the power of words even feebly to portray! Patrick was the first to break silence,-"O my son, my son!wherefore hast thou done thus?-but I

come not to upbraid thee,-there is one who ordereth all things, and to Him will I pray,-in Him will I trust. But there is one thing I would ask,-O, Arthur, thy father is not as he once was! he stands before thee, a miserable, heart-broken man. Yet, if thou hast aught remaining in thee of pity or love for the author of thy being, tell me if thou knowest ought of thy sister?"

But Arthur spoke not, nor relapsed from his position; a convulsive squeeze of the hand was all his father could obtain to his many and earnest inquiries. At length the time came to separate, and the old man returned to his solitary home, but little comforted by the interview with his

son.

It went on thus till the time arrived which was publicly to decide whether Arthur had been really guilty of the crime with which he was charged. The morning came, and saw old Patrick stationed at the door of the public court, where the fate of his child was to be sealed. His demeanour was calm and lofty, and those who knew him, remarked in his countenance, such an aspect of firm resolve and settled serenity as appeared almost supernatural. Perhaps that good and gracious Being whom he trusted in, had given his servant a portion of strength equal to his day, and consoled his heart with that peace, of which the world knows nothing, and which can make the darkest hour a season of tranquillity and thankfulness.

Thus it seemed to be, for as the trial went on, his countenance was not seen to change, nor his eye to lose its beam of patience and resignation, save when it was occasionally lifted up in speechless supplication, and seemed to catch a ray from that heaven to which it looked.

The principal witnesses were Maurice Halloran and his servant, who both positively swore that they saw Arthur spring from his hiding place in the shrubbery which surrounded "the house," and attack Mr. Halloran with a weapon resembling a small dagger, or some other sharp instrument. Both being certain as to the identity of the prisoner, there was no further need of evidence to convict him. The judge, in his charge to those who were chosen to pronounce the verdict of life or death on their fellow-creature, dwelt strongly upon the seeming clearness of Arthur's guilt, and the aggravation it received from the consideration, that Maurice Halloran had befriended and supported him. In short, it seemed so plain, that all other proceeding was unnecessary, and the jury were on the point of recording their verdict against the

culprit, when a piercing shriek was heard, which rang through the whole assembly. It was succeeded by a confused noise without the court, which was soon caught up by those within, as a female, pale and emaciated, made her way wildly through the crowd, and presented herself at the witnessbox-it was Catharine!

Oh! what were the feelings of those who saw the old man at that moment! how was all the past forgotten, when the longlost form of his cherished one stood before him. "My child, my child !" was all he could utter, and he sunk on his seat overcome by the intensity of his joy!

Meanwhile, the meek one, whose sudden appearance had so changed the order of the proceedings, modestly requested that as she had important intelligence to communicate, she might be admitted as a witness. Her request was granted, and it will be seen how she was made an humble instrument in the hands of her God to detect the guilty, and rescue the innocent.

She stated, that on arriving at the town, on the day when she left her father's cottage, she was met by her brother, who, under promise of returning home with her, had induced her to accompany him to a small house in a retired part of the town, where he lived under the eye and support of Maurice Halloran; that when she arrived there, Maurice himself was present; and that when she reminded Arthur of his promise to return with her home, Halloran not only refused to permit him to go, but also expressed his determination of detaining her.

Arthur remonstrated with him, but to no purpose; and she remained there, watched narrowly, and subject to the indelicate addresses of Maurice, who protested that all his proceedings were influenced by the love he bore her; but that she had been enabled to resist his importunities, although she suffered much from his repeated attacks.

She continued thus for some time, till the close and frequent consultations of her brother and his friend, excited her suspicions that something dreadful was in agitation, and she resolved, if it were possible, to become acquainted with it. Accordingly, from time to time she listened to their discourse, but it was carried on in such low tones, that she could gain no desirable information, till one night, long after she had retired to the small apartment which was appropriated to her use, when, supposed to be fast bound in slumber, she heard Maurice speaking in an unusually high tone.She listened,-they were talking quick and confusedly, though loud, and she distinctly