hands of the villain, when her brother and his man arrived from the village. Her timely protector, the faithful dog, left Active Cottage the following morning; but she soon after discovered that he belonged to a stranger who had been taken ill on the road, and the dog having strayed, was in quest of his keeper, when he entered so timely to save Jane. Thus, we see that

"The mount of danger is the place
Where man shall see surprising grace;
Then never let the good despair,
For he will meet with succour there."

CHAPTER LII.

"All things conspire to favour most,
Those, who in God do place their trust."

THE SICK TRAVELLER.

AFTER receiving so signal a service from the dog, it may be naturally supposed that Willy and his sister were not long without so useful a domestic. A few days after Jane's memorable rescue from the hands of the house-breaker, Willy and his sister looked out for a faithful dog, and they were not long in meeting with the object of their search.

As Jane was walking one day on the road outside

one of her brother's fields, she saw a little boy playing with the very identical dog at the entrance of a straw hut erected on the road-side. Imagining the boy and dog to belong to some shepherd, she addressed the former, when she learnt that he and his mother had been visiting some friend, and on their way back to their home, the latter had been taken so ill that she was not able to proceed further, and that the country people had made that straw hut for her to lie in.

"And is your mother lying in that miserable place?" asked Jane.

The boy answered in the affirmative.

"Would none of the people in these cottages take you and your mother in ?" again asked Jane. "No," said the boy, "they are afraid of mother's fever."

"Your mother has a fever then, and are you not afraid of getting it too?"

"No, I am not afraid, I love mother!"

"I find it is so in all cases," said Jane to herself. "True love casteth out fear." Jane, like her brother Willy, and worthy sister Agnes, was a lover of the whole human race, and therefore did not fear contagion from any one of them, knowing that, "in the midst of death, there is life;" and that though she might walk in the valley and shadow of death, even there the arm of the Lord would protect her.

Jane therefore entered the hut. An emaciated being between thirty and forty apparently, lay upon

straw in one corner, and a handsome cloth mantle was thrown over her by way of a counterpane. The contrast between which and the straw that was strewed under the poor creature appeared so incongruous, that it excited Jane's curiosity to know something of her history. But the invalid was too ill to be able to give any account of herself, and her little boy was too young to do it.

It occurred to Jane that the woman might be a thief, and had stolen the mantle. Be that as it may, whispered Jane's better feelings, she is a human being in distress, and must be taken care of.

Jane quitted the hut, and went to consult with her brother what was best to do to succour the sick woman. Willy, ever alive to the humane feelings, placed a mattress upon a hand-barrow, and with the assistance of Jane and his man Ned, put the poor woman upon it, and had her conveyed to a comfortable room in his own cottage, where she lay for better than ten days: every instant they expected to see her breathe her last. At the end of ten days she rallied, and the doctor whom Willy had called in to prescribe for her, had hopes of her recovery; but the improvement in her health was only temporary, a lull before the storm; a reprieve granted her for the sake of her orphan boy. Two days before her death she was so well as to be able to sit up in her bed, when she told her kind host and hostess that her name was Ellsmore; that she had been a widow nearly five years, and was returning from visit

ing a relation of her late husband, when she was seized with the malady which she felt would carry her to her grave; a circumstance she regretted solely on account of her little boy. "Alas!" continued Mrs. Ellsmore, "who will take care of my poor little boy when I am gone?"

"Fear not," replied Willy, "you are much better, and I trust will live long to be yourself his protector."

"Though I may appear better, I feel plainly that the hand of death is upon me. Your great and transcendant humanity so eminently exercised in behalf of a helpless stranger, has given me the highest opinion of your integrity, and the goodness of your heart. My son will not be a beggar when I am gone; he will have wherewith to be comfortable; but as I have no relative to whose care I can trust my darling boy, were you and your amiable sister to take the charge of my Davy, I think I should die happy."

"If any promise of mine," replied Willy, "can possibly relieve your anxiety for your son, be assured I will most faithfully execute whatever may be in my power to do for his future interest."

"Now I am happy indeed," cried the sick Mrs. Ellsmore, handing from the bed a sealed packet, "These papers will acquaint you with the circumstances of my son."

Two days after the above conversation had passed, Mrs. Ellsmore breathed her last, and her remains

were interred a few days after in the village churchyard near to Willy's residence. The sealed packet was opened in the presence of the clergyman of the parish, and the doctor, when it was found that little Davy Ellsmore was entitled to the interest of a thousand pounds lodged in the funds at four per cent. A long dissertation took place between the three concerning what was best to do with Davy. Willy, feeling that the chief responsibility rested upon him, proposed to place him with his sister Agnes until he should be eight years of age, when it would then be time to remove him to a boy's school. "My object," continued Willy, "in placing the little orphan with my sister is, that his mind may early be turned on the side of virtue. Early impressions being generally the deepest and most lasting."

The clergyman and doctor approved much of Willy's plan, both being of opinion that a solid foundation is of more consequence than the superstructure. In vain shall we look for the duration of a building the foundation of which is ricketty for he that builds his house upon the sand must expect it to be blown down by the breeze. And he that looks to making a moral youth, must begin at the right end, and first make him a religious youth. The fountain must be pure before we can expect that the stream can be so.