These are true words: for they were spoken by Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Anna knew this; and her faith never faltered. But what did the words mean? "Persecutions-with persecutions:" she could understand these words. Experience had brought home their meaning to her. She knew what persecutions

were.

She was very young; at that time not more than seventeen or eighteen. She was the younger of two motherless girls. Their father was elderly, for he had married not early in life; and the mother had soon faded away. It was known-at least, it was suspected-that she was not very happy in her married life; for Mr. Reid, her husband, was a gay man of the world, and she was a Christian: and "how can two walk together, except they be agreed ?"

Happy or unhappy in her married life, the mother died; and the two children were left in the father's hands to train as he could or would. He took small pains with them, for he had engagements more congenial with his tastes than that of being a nursery teacher: so he said. Besides, he was in business in the city through the day; and his evenings were usually spent in such society as pleased him, and this was not the society of his two infantor little more than infant-children. Lucy and Anna Reid were therefore consigned to the charge, first of nursery maids, then of a nursery governess; seldom seeing their father through the day, except for a few minutes before he left his home in the country for business in the town. The story, thus far, is not an uncommon one. There are in all large and busy cities, and their neighbourhoods, many such homes. It should be added that Mr. Reid was a shrewd and a rather hard man of business: he had done well for himself: at least he was reputedly in good circumstances; and people wondered why he did not marry again, which, however, he never did.

As the sisters grew from childhood to girlhood, the father took more interest in them. He selected for them a reputable boarding school, and paid a high price for their education. This finished, they returned home. As young women, the heiresses of some reputed wealth, and as, moreover, they were amiable and accomplished, they had not to pine for society. The father, too, as was natural enough, began to feel proud of his daughters, and introduced them into a round of dissipation, very well suited

to their tastes, but ill-adapted for either their mental or moral improvement.

Then came a startling change in this order, or disorder, of domestic life: and with this change our little history

commences.

When Anna was about sixteen years of age, and her sister Lucy some two or three years older, they were fearfully shocked by witnessing the sudden death of one of their young companions-in a ball-room. The young lady had joined the party, apparently in good health and spirits, had shown more than usual solicitude to please, and had gracefully opened the ball with her partner in the first dance. Then, in the course of the evening, while waltzing, she suddenly fell, and was supposed to have fainted with the heat of the room and dizziness brought on by her over-exertions. Conveyed to another apartment in the house, ordinary restoratives were applied, but without success. A surgeon was hastily summoned. On his arrival, he announced that the young lady was dead, adding that death was the effect of unsuspected heart disease.

This terrible accident was the turning-point in Anna's spiritual history. With her sister, the effects of the sudden shock and fright were transient; with her, they were abiding. In the solemn scene which had passed before her, she recognised the voice of Him who says-“ Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me."

And then began the early trials of the Christian life. Sadly the young convert reflected that in all the round of her acquaintance there was not one who could sympathize with or help her. Almost necessarily, therefore, she kept her struggles and strong convictions to herself, locked in her own bosom, until they bore down everything before them.

She had one helper, however, who did not fail her. Driven to the word of God as her only-or almost only -resource," the Spirit, teaching by the Word," became mighty in "the pulling down of strongholds," and in "casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ."

This wonderful and effectual change could not long be hid. At first, indeed, it was supposed that the shock of

that sudden death had been too much for Anna's nerves; and some consideration was shown by her father and friends, who hoped and believed that the effects of it would presently pass away. But when, after some time of waiting, they found that the weak and timid girl had irrevocably determined to enter no more into the dissipations of what was called society, and had determined with equal vigour that, with God's help, she would thenceforth be not only nominally, but in heart, soul, and life, a true Christian, they united first of all in condemning, then in ridiculing, and last of all, in bitterly persecuting her. And here the old rhymes come forcibly to mind, as an illustration of Anna's position at this time:

Anna was to be banished from home. Her friends had no patience with her, they said. Her sister was unkind and unsympathizing, and her father was angry beyond bounds. There had been one saint in his family, he declared, and he would take care there should not be another. Anna's choice, therefore, had to be made, either to give up these "notions" and return to the world, or to forsake all, -father, sister, friends, home, position,--and follow Christ. The trial was hard; who can doubt it? but there was no wavering on the young Christian's part. Her mind was already made up: for she had taken the spirit of these words to heart: "He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me."

But as Anna sat alone in her own chamber, only a few days before the parting was to take place, with her Bible before her, and read with moistened eyes the words, "There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, for my sake and the gospel's, but he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal

mean.

life," she could not help wondering what the promise could She understood the "persecutions," as we have said; and she had laid hold on the "eternal life," and would let it go?-no, never! But the rest of the promise? Ah well, it did not matter. What she knew not now she should know hereafter.

Anna left home, then, not utterly uncared for, as this would have been too great a scandal to society; besides which, the father's natural affection had not been entirely obliterated, though it was sadly blunted by his unreasoning anger. So, advertisement pages had been scanned, and a situation as governess to three little girls had been secured for her. Moreover, at the last, the test had been re-applied: "Be rational and remain at home, beloved and courted; be irrational and disobedient, and take the consequences." Anna was firm; and thenceforth she was to live among strangers.

It was a happy day for the three little girls on which Miss Reid became their teacher: for Anna was really competent for what she had undertaken; and God helped her —who can doubt it?-to bear the change in her circumstances not only patiently but cheerfully. And far beyond the secular instruction which she was able to give to her young pupils was the influence of her consistent life and religious principles. Her employers were not pious in the high sense of the word; but they were kind and considerate, and they did not disapprove of the religious teaching their daughters received from Miss Reid. More than this, they learned to admire her for her amiability, and to sympathize with her when they knew (from others, not from herself) the cause which had driven her to them for shelter. When his people's ways please the Lord, he maketh even their enemies to be at peace with them, we are told. It was so with Anna. True, her employers were not and never had been her enemies; but they were strangers, and might have been oppressors or hard task-masters: but they were made to be not only at peace with her, but turned into loving friends. In a small degree, therefore, the young Christian began dimly to perceive some meaning in the promise which had puzzled her.

Anna perceived this much more plainly when, after years of patient, persevering, prayerful efforts on behalf of her pupils, she saw that her labour in the Lord had not been in vain. She had asked God to give her the souls of these

little ones, she had asked believingly; and the prayer of faith had been heard. Nor did her joy end here; for the parents of the children had been brought to say to their pious and trusted servant-no, not servant, but friend, associate, and sister beloved-" Your God shall be our God; your Saviour, ours; your hope, and faith, and love are our hope, and faith, and love also."

"A hundred fold more now in this time; houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions!" Ah, yes: Anna understood it better

now.

Did she pray for no one else? Yes: and here was the ever-abiding sorrow of heart, such as the apostle felt when he thought of his unconverted, unbelieving kinsfolk. For Anna's father and sister went on, as Anna knew, in their round of dissipation; unchanged in their feelings towards herself, unchanged towards God. But Anna did not cease praying.

In course of time the elder sister was married. It was a grand wedding; so Anna heard; for she was not there, she had not been invited. Lucy's husband was a foreigner of distinction, it was said; and soon after the marriage he took his wife with him to his own continental home.

There was a startling report one morning "on 'Change." It was not at first believed: men said that it could not be. But it gained ground, nevertheless; and before night it was too well known that one who had been looked upon as a prosperous man, and whose large expenditure and excessive dissipation had become notorious, was a bankrupt. That man was Anna's father.

The knowledge of this sorrow was, for a time, kept from Anna; but it could not long be concealed. Kindly and gently, therefore, it was revealed to her, as much softened down in the telling as was possible by her protectors.

She was not so much distressed by the intelligence as they thought she would be; but then they understood the

reason.

"God is answering my prayers," she thought; "though not in the way I expected. But his way is the best way." She longed to go and comfort her father in his sorrow; but she would first write to him. It was a loving letter. But it was not answered; and meanwhile, she learned that he had disappeared from the neighbourhood, his