“Blessed are they that dwell in the heavenly Jerusalem, where there is no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of GOD does lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.”

By the time that my father returned, the sick man and I were fast friends; and I left him with his blessing on my head.  As we went home, my good kind father told me that I was nearly old enough now to take an interest in his concerns, and began to talk of his patients, and of the poverty and destitution of some parts of the town.  Then he spoke of the bad state of trade—­that it was expected to be worse, and that the want of work and consequent misery this year would probably be very great.  Finally he added, that when so many were likely to be starving, he had thought it right that we should deny ourselves our little annual treat, and so save the money to enable us to take our part in relieving the distressed.

“Don’t you think so, my boy?” he concluded, as we reached the door of our comfortable (how comfortable!) home.

My whole heart was in my “Yes.”

It is a happy moment for a son when his father first confides in him.  It is a happy moment for a father when his son first learns to appreciate some of the labour of his life, and henceforth to obey his commands, not only with a blind obedience, but in the sympathizing spirit of the “perfect love” which “casts out fear.”  My heart was too full to thank him then for his wise forbearance and wiser confidence; but when after some months my sister’s health made change of air to the house of a country relative necessary, great was my pride and thankfulness that I was well enough to remain at the post of duty by my father’s side.

One day, not long after our visit to William, he went again to see him; and when he came back I saw by the musk-plant in his hand the news he brought.  Its flowers were lovelier than ever, but its master was transplanted into a heavenly garden, and he had left it to me.

Mortal man does not learn any virtue in one lesson; and I have only too often in my life been ungrateful both to GOD and man.  But the memory of lame William has often come across me when I have been tempted to grumble about small troubles; and has given me a little help (not to be despised) in striving after the grace of Thankfulness, even for a “bit of green.”

MONSIEUR THE VISCOUNT’S FRIEND.

A TALE IN THREE CHAPTERS.

“Sweet are the vses of aduersitie
Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,
Weares yet a precious lewell in his head.” 

                                      AS YOU LIKE IT:  A.D. 1623.

CHAPTER I.