"Just so," replied Ruthie.

Then the bent of conversation turned upon the trial of President Johnson.

"I do not understand politics," said Amy, for even in my own beloved England the affairs of Government cost me little thought."

Ruthie smiled, and Amy continued

"I may be wrong; but I certainly think a woman has a large enough sphere of labour granted to her by God without appearing at the polling-booths. But about the freedmen, can you teach them readily?"

"They are so excitable; but I find them very tractable, grateful, and remarkably patient under suffering." "And of Jesus, what plan do you adopt to teach them of Him?"

"I try to point out to them a Saviour's love, to draw them to Him and His cross without respect to creed. This is my mission. I leave the Holy Spirit to direct them further; they are unprepared for doctrine; it is enough for them at present to learn of Jesus' love, and I have sufficient work. Sometimes I stumble on the road, the weight of responsibility seems more than I am able to bear."

"Ask strength from Jesus, dear Ruthie, He will not deny it to you. But have you only one assistant in your great

work?"

"That is all; there are only eleven of us allotted for Texas; two, therefore, is the full number for this island." "Do you purpose to remain long here?"

"Not if God opens another sphere of labour; probably I may change next term.”

"You are fond of wandering, Ruthie.”

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'Perhaps so; time is short, and I have much to do. I try to scatter the good seed, and have faith to believe others, perhaps stronger than I, will follow and teach the poor freedmen more."

"You do well, dear, noble Ruthie, to point out to the

poor, dark man-just emerging from the deep shade of slavery a Saviour's precious love. Doctrines oftimes only serve to burden a weak soul, and are as stumbling blocks in his onward progress."

And so they parted, the Old and New England friends.

Amy returned to Mrs. Brooklyne's house, and thought over what Ruthie had said. She remembered the time when one point of doctrine had troubled her mind, of the anguish and the doubt, of the many inquiries, and of friends' kind help; but all unavailing-over and over again would rise the dreadful question-if there be Predestination ?-if there be only an Elect, and the Spirit has not been given to me, how can I be saved? She thought of the night when that doubt was answered. Call it a dream, reader, though I can term it only as a picture clearly before the eye, vivid, as if painted upon canvas, rose the figure of a crucified Saviour, and at the foot of His cross was laid a burden, the heavy burden of innumerable sins. She thought they were her own, and questioned how they might be washed away, when one drop of blood seemed to fall upon that hideous burden, and all the mass dissolved away, washed out by the Saviour's blood. She awoke; the room was dark, silence reigned around, but the awful doubt was settled. The eternal purpose of the Father and the Atonement of the Eternal Father's Son, seemed blended together; and the slumberer awoke not to question, but to say-" My Lord and my Christ, Thy death was sufficient!"

The darkest gloom may be followed by the brightest sunlight the thunderstorm and the lightning's vivid flash are often followed by clear and balmy days-the hurricane's withering blast may shake the Church of Christ— contentions may distress the flock; but they will pass. Have patience, and, if appalled at the dark and threatening clouds heralding in the storm, just leave all and flee to the Rock, and shelter there until the storm is overthe tempest gone. Then the Shepherd's voice the

voice of the blessed Lord-will summon you from the east and from the west, the north and the south, to enter into the peaceful kingdom which His love has purchased for you. Take courage, Christians! stand beneath the shadow of the Rock-safely sheltered in the Lord's hidingplace and watch the coming of the day when all contentions will be over. Mark the approaching storm, and when the muttering voice of angry disputes is heard like thunder grown faint in the distance-wait, in faith, quite calmly until the last note of discord has died away-driven back to the pit from whence it sprung. Wait, and watch for the ray of light gilding the eastern sky, for then you may know

""Tis the light that tells the dawning

Of the bright millenial day;

Heralding its blessed morning

With its peace-restoring ray.”—BURLEIGH.

But whilst the Christian shelters beneath the shadow of the Great Rock there is work to do, and the night will soon come. If sorrow crushes out our early hopes, rest upon Jesus, and by so doing you will find strength to rise up from the ruins of your once fondly-cherished plans, and find (as the young missionary has found) a far higher and holier mission. God gives to each child a particular gift—a talent. He expects that child to use the gift; tremble, lest instead of using, we abuse it, and so, in place of being ready to welcome our king, we dread the signs of His coming. The dark man stands across the water-he calls for help. 'England," said Ruthie, "has responded nobly to his call by forwarding assistance to our American Missionary Associations, and the freedmen know it. Visit him in his cabin, or speak to him on the prairie, tell him you are English, and see the brightening of his face, and learn that the negro is not ungrateful. Remember his many stripes-remember his toilsthink of his sorrows, and oh, pity the poor negro ! It is for the negro I plead !"

CHAPTER XXI.

COLONEL DE WARING.

"CAPTAIN ST. JOHN, please, Miss Amy," said Bill, entering the breakfast room.

"Captain St. John, where ?"

"In de parlour."

"Have patience, my dear, you are excited," said Mrs. Brooklyne; "there is no requirement to hurry, the Captain will wait a moment."

'Spects he will," interposed Bill; "for em tinks much ob his passingers."

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'Now, Miss Amy," and the hand of Captain St. John was extended, “I have come to tell you some good news." "What is it, Sir?"

"The Trade Wind commences to take in her cargo tomorrow, so in forty or fifty days we shall be off, homeward bound; that sounds nice, does it not?"

"Joy is generally mingled with sorrow, Captain."

"Very true; but is the little lady going?" and the Captain placed his hand on Alice's head.

“No, mamma cannot spare me, and I cannot part with my aunties. Please, Sir, do not take them."

"Mr. Stuart is coming to shore this evening, so I suppose he will be calling to see you Miss Amy."

"And I will ask Mr Stuart not to take you back to England," whispered little Alice, as she stood by the open gate, watching the retreating figure of the Captain.

"Will you, darling?"

"Yes, it is no use to talk to Captain St. John."

"He promised me two aunties, and now he wants them

back again. The Captain is a very mean gentleman; is he not?"

"No, my precious little Alice; he is a very very kind one."

Alice hesitated, looked to make sure the Captain was far enough away, then said—

"I would give Captain St. John one, two, or three kisses if he would leave my English aunties here. I cannot spare my Ida. She plays at blind man's buff, and swings me up

ever so high."

"Will you let me go, Alice ?"

"Oh! no.

Who will tell me pretty tales and sew my

dollies' heads on when I break them off?"

"That just reminds me, Alice; where is your little nigger doll?"

"Buried, Aunt Amy, long time ago."

"How did that happen?"

"Well, my pretty white baby was naughty, and so I whipped the nigger, and then the nigger doll was very naughty, and I whipped it again, and the little nigger broke all to pieces; but don't cry, Aunt Amy, little niggers were made to be whipped."

"See those goats, Alice, round the gate; go and drive them away."

"No, Aunt, I love the goats. God made the pretty goats," and the child held out her small white arm to entice them to come nearer.

"And God made the niggers?"

"No. You must not tell stories, Aunt Amy, it was Old Tucker made them, every one."

"God made them, Alice, and when you hurt a nigger you do wrong."

"My little nigger doll not feel very much. Did it auntie?" and the child's lips grew white, and her eyes were filled with tears.

"Not the doll, darling, but little children do."