how earnestly he prayed that he might be enabled to "see the rod, and who had appointed it," to take the cross and esteem it a blessing.

And what was wrong in the atmosphere of the Glen Ness church and congregation? Was it possible that they were beginning to tire of their minister— to weary of his labours among them? Maybe even that; for man is a fickle creature at best, and novelty is dearly esteemed. In the present day the disease of "itching ears" is very prevalent; it betrays itself continually, and in a thousand trying ways. The servant of God, whose highest reward is the salvation of souls, has innumerable complaints brought against him, and continually is he wounded in the house of his friends. Happy for him is it, that the "praise of man" is not what he seeks-but their good. Yet, oh! beware ye who bring care to your minister's brow, and sorrow to his heart-beware, lest with them ye bring not leanness into your own souls.

Hitherto, however, Gilbert Owen's services at Glen Ness had been acceptable, and it was not so much dissatisfaction with his labour as a spirit of parsimony that had sprung up amongst them--a declension in the matter of gifts to the treasury that told sorely on their minister's purse, at a time when he needed most. But for the thoughtful and timely gifts from Emily's friends the need would have reached his little wife, carefully as he had tried to conceal it; and he thought with sorrow, if there was not some redress, or amendment in his salary, it would not long be possible to keep it from her. He grieved for her far more than for himself, that she who had been so tenderly nurtured should be brought by him into

N

a sense of need. No wonder that the cloud would come over brow and spirits! Strange that those parsimonious ones who withheld their contributions should be amongst the first to express surprise at their minister's depression. "They who work in the Gospel must live by the Gospel;" and "The labourer is worthy of his hire," are the practical portions of the word of God that people are most apt to ignore. And yet the minister of the Gospel is but of human kind, with human wants, and necessities, and cares. There is no ladder by which he can ascend to partake of celestial food, when his work is ended day by day. His garments are of earthly fabric, and need replenishing. The hay for his horse (for even ministers' horses must feed) springs not up unsown in his paddock, nor is gathered into his yard without hands and labour and cash. Oh! how some people will work to provide food for their perishing bodies, while they grudge a sixpence expended in sustenance for their immortal souls!

But, for the sake of the happiness of his wife, who sat so rejoicingly by his side, Gilbert smoothed his brow, and put away to-morrow's care. "Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof," he thought; "let me at least take all the benefit of rest and change. I shall go back the fresher to my work again."

And so it happened that the journey to the metropolis, contrived as it was by easy stages, was a very very pleasant one. They both enjoyed it to the full, and little "Rosebud" was none the worse, but as good as a few-weeks-old baby could possibly be— smiling when she was not sleeping, and on the whole enacting the part of a very wise baby indeed!

What a reception they had in town! There were one or two added to the family group ready to welcome them. Among them were the ladies who so freely discussed Emily's chances of happiness at the commencement of our tale. One of them smilingly whispered in an undertone to her friend :

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Well, now, have you ever seen a happier couple? Acknowledge your fears were futile."

"Not yet," was the quiet reply; "it is early days at present; besides, I never, you remember, doubted their love. It was the care and sorrow and anxiety that generally fall to the share of a minister—a country minister especially-of which I spoke."

"Do you see any signs of it yet?" asked the friend, somewhat archly.

"I am not sure; not in her certainly; she looks remarkably happy and well, but all is not gold that

glitters,"" and she turned away to reply to a question addressed to her by the master of the house.

CHAPTER XXII.

DELAY.

"Our cross and trial do but press

The heavier for our bitterness."

SPRING had indeed come with all the beauty and loveliness it ever wore. Such roses it brought with it-roses, the incense from whose glowing cups the soft breezes drank to intoxication, and bore away on its airy wings into sick chambers, where the incense was indeed balm and through spacious drawingrooms already laden with perfume. They were revelled in by the rich-those roses, glowing petal upon petal, reclined against each other in costly vases, prodigal in their profusion. They were welcomed by the poor -those two or three specimens in the narrow strip of garden. The rose that climbed the porch was esteemed a precious thing within, something to gladden the heart and cheer the eye. Yes ; it was the time The suburbs of Adelaide possessed a rich

of roses.

and varied supply.

And this season of roses, what was it not to bring to Lilian Spencer? How fondly, with what certainty was the season hailed! She had been so well all the bravely every adverse wind

winter, had borne so

that had found opportunity to blow upon her, that

her friends had indeed reason to hope everything from the balmy beauty of spring. The arrangements for the wedding went on rapidly and merrily. Not a cloud dimmed the atmosphere of their anticipations. Bridal-dresses of delicate and costly materials, exquisite wreaths and glittering jewellery, made the rooms bright by their presence. The day was rapidly nearing; and Arthur Norton, the bridegroom elect, was triumphant.

There was a large gathering the evening before the bridal-day. The six young ladies to whom had been delegated the office of bridesmaids were there, with many friends, to pass away the last evening of Lilian's maiden life. Dance and song, merry laughter and jest, rang through the rooms, while music and flowers lent their several charms to the festive scene; and Lilian, the observed of all observers, was unnaturally gay and winning. Very lovely she looked, with her fair white forehead, shaded by its bright curls, and the brilliant touch of colour on either cheek, the light blue silk she wore only adding to the delicacy of her complexion. Arthur Norton thought so, for he scarcely left her side a moment; her mother thought so, and never had she felt nearer idolatry than she did that evening, as from a little distance she feasted her eyes upon the beauty of her child. Her father beheld, and was proud to be father of such a daughter. And Hugh-did not he admire his lovely sister? Yes, but with fear and trembling" Was not that rose on her cheek too deep?" he asked himself. Was the brilliant light in her blue eyes all that it should be? Was not her laughi unnaturally gay? But he mentioned his fears to no