to her. But she was assured of her father's good-will; and, when the stone was laid, she was to visit York, and spend a little time in the family circle of her childhood. Great was the gladness when the banished daughter once more crossed the threshold.

Eighteen months later Miss Weaver was summoned to York on account of the serious illness of her father. Mr. Weaver was suffering severely from dropsy, and not expected to recover. As soon as she entered his room, and before she was aware of his intention, he rose from his bed and attempted on his knees to ask forgiveness of the daughter whom he regarded himself as having grievously wronged. Whilst laid on his bed in much pain and excessive feebleness, he expressed his thankfulness that his dear child had been upheld during that terrible ordeal He thought it probable that had she yielded to his unrighteous injunctions, the family might all have gone on in blindness of heart, and sinfulness of life, until they had perished in their iniquity. Mr. Sutcliffe had not yet left York, though on the point of doing so. He was sent for, that he might pray with and counsel Mr. Weaver, and other good men were gladly welcomed for the same purpose.

As her father appeared to rally a little Miss Weaver returned to her duties, resolving, however, fully to attend to her dear father's parting request : My child, pray for me." About a month after she thus took leave of her father, as she was walking, with her pupils, in the park, a powerful impression was made on her mind that the latest day of her beloved father's life had arrived. On her return to the house she mentioned the impression to Mrs. Clarkson, and added

that it was so strong and sacred that she should like permission to spend the night in secret prayer on his behalf. Mrs. C. encouraged her to do so, observing, "What leads to God, comes from God." During the night, whilst pleading the precious promises, Catherine received a sweet assurance, which she doubted not came from the Spirit of God, that her dear father had been "accepted in the Beloved," and that speedily he would be among the glorified "who have washed their robes, and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb." In the course of a few hours afterwards the tidings were brought to her from York that her father had departed this life; but that he had died penitently trusting in the merits of the Saviour for salvation, and humbly rejoicing in a sin-pardoning God.

After the death of her father it was deemed advisable that Catherine should return home to assist her widowed mother. Assiduously did she seek the conversion of that mother, and, after thirty years of hope deferred, witnessed it as before narrated. At length we find her as a widow residing at Whiston, and telling of the goodness of her Lord. Her grandaughter, Sophia Denham, and many others were blessed by the testimony of the aged pilgrim. Her life had been a varied one. During the greater part it was marked by fidelity and much usefulness. Towards its close some dark shadows fell on the path.

persed by a gracious God;

These were, however, dis

and, about six year's after

Sophia's visit to her, the widow departed this life, trusting in the merits of her Redeemer, and sustained by the assurance of his mercy.

E

CHAPTER IV.

EARLIER LESSONS AT SCHOOL.

"O thou who sitt'st enthroned on high,
Ancient of days! Eternal King!
May childhood and mortality

Hope thou wilt listen whilst they sing?

We raise our songs; but, oh, to thee,

What praise can mortal tongue impart.

Till thou hast tuned to harmony,

That jarring instrument, the heart?

Then, infant warblings in thine ear,
As sweet as angel notes shall roll;
For thou wilt bend from heaven to hear
The still, soft music of the soul."

H. NEELE.

EARLY in the year 1856 Sophia was sent to School at Riccall, near York. Her uncle, Mr. Charles Denham, conducted a school there, and Sophia was placed under his care. Hitherto she had been associated, almost exclusively, with those who were Methodists, as well as Christians. Even the children with whom she had talked, and played, and learned, had been taught to respect religion everywhere, and especially as enjoyed and manifested among the Wesleyan Methodists. At Riccall it was otherwise. Her uncle and his family were accustomed to attend the services of the Established Church; and, among the children

attending the school it was to be expected that there would be several who were unconcerned respecting spiritual things, and some really opposed to true religion. Sophia's attachment to the Saviour, and to the church of her parents, and of her own early choice, was thus to be tested. She was, however, to be allowed to enjoy the religious privileges she had learned to prize, and no perils to her spiritual life were likely to be found in her path, but such, as by Divine grace, even a youthful disciple might overcome. advantages therefore might be hoped for from this change in Sophia's position:-Her own soul would be strengthened, if she proved faithful;-and those who, perhaps, had hitherto enjoyed fewer advantages than herself, might be benefited by her consistent example and gentle counsel.

Two

From the letters written by Sophia at this time, and the diary she kept, we have an opportunity of observing the early growth of her inner life. Some have felt this to be an interesting occupation. Others who never saw her may be pleased by some brief extracts. There is an interest in tracing anything that is beautiful or excellent to its commencement. The source of

the Nile, so long kept among the secrets of nature, was eagerly sought after. Men were ready to endure hardships, and lavish their wealth, and risk their lives, in hope that they might discover the beginning of that mighty and fertilizing stream on the banks of which vast cities had flourished. More than one intrepid traveller died with the mistaken belief that his name would be handed down to succeeding generations as the successful explorer of the source of the Nile. The excursionist in our island may find several local

ities where the residents point out some brook, as the source of the Thames. Villagers, far away from London, who perhaps never saw the metropolitan city of England, feel a sort of pride that the Thames springs, as they maintain, from the hill side near their dwellings. Though not unattended with difficulty, there is a pleasure in marking the source of any such stream. We like to look at the little rill as it gushes forth from its secret birth-place, and begins its course in the light of heaven. A pebble, if large, is an obstruction to the tiny stream, but it is a hindrance which is overcome. Onward the rivulet glides, singing as it does so. Now and then it has to muster all its force in order to succeed in what would not have been perceived in the onward flow of a great river; but it does succeed. As it flows on, it gains strength and volume. We find pleasure in tracing its course. It is not a delight exactly similar to that with which we observe the river on which a thousand ships are sailing, but it is a real delight. So, in like manner, the devout find pleasure in marking the commencement of the Divine life within a young heart. That life has not the vigour and majesty sometimes apparent in the aged and suffering saint, on the verge of heaven. But the life of God, within the soul of a child, has a beauty of its own. It is specially interesting because it is the beginning of what we trust will become purer, and stronger, and happier, and in every respect, more glorious, for ever and ever. The extracts we purpose to furnish in the remainder of this chapter, whatever other interest they might possess, have this circumstance to commend them to the devout and kindly, they were written by a little girl who was then trying to love the Saviour and do his will.