the improvident; but look thou to a better host of strong allies, of resolute defenders; turn again to meet thy Duties, needy one no man ever starved who even faintly tried to do them. Look to thy God, O sinner: use reason wisely; cherish honour: shrink not from toil, though somewhile unrewarded; preserve frank bearing with thy fellows; and in spite of all thy sins-forgiven; all thy follies-flung away; all the trickeries of this world-scorned; all competitions disregarded; all suspicions trodden under foot; thou neediest and raggedest of labourers' labourers,-Enough shall be thy portion, ere a week hath passed away. Well did Agur-the-Wise counsel Ithiel and Ucal his disciples, when he uttered in their ears before his God, this prayerful admonition, "Two things have I required of Thee; deny me them not before I die: remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither poverty nor riches: feed me with food convenient for me. Lest I be full, and deny Thee, saying, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and dishonour the name of the Lord my God." CHAPTER XXXII. NEXT MORNING. DAY dawned apace; and a glorious cavalcade of flaming clouds heralded the Sun their captain. From far away, round half the wide horizon, their glittering spears advanced. Heaven's highway rang with the trampling of their horsehoofs, and the dust went up from its jewelled pavement as spray from the bottom of a cataract. Anon, he came, he came, the chieftain of that onspurring host! his banner blazed upon the sky; his golden crest was seen beneath nodding with its ruddy plumes; over the south-eastern hills he arose in radiant armour. Fair Nature, waking at her bridegroom's voice, arrived so early from a distant clime, smiled upon him sleepily, gladdening him in beauty with her sweet halfopened eyelids, and kissing him in faithfulness with dew besprinkled lips. And he looked forth upon the world from his high chariot, holding back the coursers that must mount the steep of noon: and he heard the morning hymn of thankfulness to Heaven from the mountains, and the valleys, and the islands of the sea; the prayer of man and woman, the praise of lisping tongues, the hum of insect joy upon the air, the sheepbell tinkling in the distance, the wild bird's carol, and the lowing kine, the mute minstrelsy of rising dews, and that stilly scarce-heard universal melody of wakeful plants and trees, hastening to turn their spring-buds to the light, this was the anthem he, the Lord of Day, now listened to, this was the song his influences had raised to bless the God who made him. And he saw, from his bright throne of wide derivative glory, Hope flying forth upon her morning missions, visiting the lonesome, comforting the sorrowful, speaking cheerfully to Care, and singing in the ear of Labour and he watched that ever-welcome friend, flitting with the gleams of light to every home, to every heart: none, but gladly let her in; her tapping finger opened the very prison doors; the heavy head of Sloth rejoiced to hear her call; and every common Folly, every common Sin, aye, every common Crime, warmed his unconscious soul before her winning beauty. Yet, yet was there one, who cursed that angel's coming: and the holy Eye of day wept pityingly to see an awful child of man who dared not look on Hope. The murderer stood beside his casement, watching that tranquil scene: with bloodshot eyes and haggard stare, he gazed upon the waking world; for one strange minute he forgot, entranced by innocence and beauty; but when the stunning tide of memory, that had ebbed that one strange minute, rolled back its mighty flood upon his mind, the murderer swooned away. And he came to himself again all too soon; for when he arose, building up his weak, weak limbs as if he were a column of sand, the cruel Giant, Guilt, lifted up his club, and felled the wretch once more. How long he lay fainting, he knew not then; if any one had vowed it was a century, Simon, as he gradually woke could not have gainsaid the man; but he only lay four seconds in that white oblivious trance, for Fear, Fear knocked at his heart-Up, man, up, you need have all your wits about you now ;-see, it is broad day, -the house will be roused before you know then will be shouted out where you are, and that awful name, Jennings ! Simon Jennings! Simon CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ALARM. HE arose,-held up on either hand that day as if fighting against Amalek; -despair buttressed him on one side, and secresy shored him on the other: behind that wall of stone his heart had strength to beat. : He arose; and listened at the key-hole anxiously all silent, quiet, quiet still the whole house asleep nothing found out yet. And he bit his nails to the quick, that they bled again but he never felt the pain. : Hush!—yes, somebody's about: it is Jonathan's step; and hark, he is humming merrily, "Hail smiling morn, that opes the gates of day!" Woe, woe,—what a dismal gulph between Jonathan and me! And he beat his breast miserably. But, Jonathan cannot find it out, he never goes to Mrs. Quarles's room. Oh! this suspense is horrible: haste, haste, some kind soul, to make the dread discovery! And he tore his hair away by handfulls. |