who was training them badly; and in his own way, not always in so many words, but sometimes by a significant curl of the lip, or by the apt quotation of a brief proverb, or by an expressive silence, he contrived to let his opinions and judgments be known.

He prided himself on his strict sobriety. He was not indeed a teetotaller-he knew better, he said, than that— but he knew when he had had enough, and he could stop there. Nobody spoke more severely against drunkards than he did, although almost every night he smoked his pipe and took his glass in the parlour of the Wheat Sheaf. He had a little knot of acquaintances, who looked upon him as an oracle, some of whom met him at the Wheat Sheaf, and others of whom were in the habit of dropping in to have a gossip with him during the day. Peter's shop-door always stood invitingly open, and although he never stopped his work, he was always quite willing to talk. It was a little wonderful to see how deftly his knife went through the leather which he was cutting, whilst now he listened to what his visitors had to say, and now expressed his own opinions on the matter under debate.

Peter had a great weakness for giving advice, not only when asked, but for giving it unsolicited. If a young man were beginning business, he took it upon himself to give him a few hints as to the way in which he should conduct it; if any of his neighbours were building a house, he most commonly took it upon him to say something about the plans; and though childless, he deemed himself quite competent to advise all parents as to the best methods of training up their households.

His advice was received very differently. Some people looked upon him as an oracle, and listened to him most respectfully. These, of course, stood very high in Peter's estimation. Others heard what he had to say, but quietly took their own plans after all; and a few were courageous and unceremonious enough to hint to him that it might be as well to mind his own business. One of these was a farmer who lived in the neighbourhood, and who had married a half cousin of his. Mr. Nicholls had a family of sturdy lads, from three years old to sixteen. They were, like the generality of boys, brimful of life, and were not disinclined to a little mischief. Still there was nothing vicious about them. One day, Peter, having seen some of their pranks, took upon himself, not only to inform Mr.

and Mrs. Nicholls of what he had seen, but also to give them a somewhat long lecture on the training of children in general. It was not the first time he had harped on that string, and Mr. Nicholls had declared to his wife that next time he did so he would snub him.

"Oh, never mind him," said Mrs. Nicholls, "it's a weakness of his; it pleases him, and it does us no harm.” Mr. Nicholls listened, but it was evident he intended to take his own way.

"Did I ever, Cousin Elliot," said Mr. Nicholls, on the occasion we have mentioned, "give you my ideas as to the making of saddles? I don't think I ever did. Now my opinion is this." He then went on with a disquisition on saddle-making.

Peter did not see his drift at first, and debated some things that he said. At length he became very impatient, and exclaimed, "Nonsense, man, what do you know about it? You never made a saddle in all your life."

"No more did you ever bring up a family, and you never had even a chance of trying. But, you see, 'old maids' and bachelors' children are always the best brought up;' and my notion is, that two married people who never had any children are not much better."

Peter looked angry, but was silent. From that day, however, he said nothing either to Mr. Nicholls or anybody else about the training of families; but this he did declare to his wife, that whoever got his money when he had done with it, not a penny of it should go either to Tom Nicholls or his lads.

Need it be added, Peter was one of the most selfrighteous men that ever lived? He paid everybody his due, he said; and though he said it himself, if all tradesmen who made a great talk of their religion conducted their business as uprightly as he did, business generally would be a very different affair.

Up to within a short time of the date of our story, Peter had been a regular church-goer. It was respectable to do so, he said; and besides it was a good example. Of late, however, his attendance had been very irregular. The old rector and he had got on very well together. But when Mr. Rogers died, there came a new minister of a very different stamp. For one thing, Mr. Bolton was young, and Peter was inclined to despise him on account of his youth. Then, again, his preaching was evangelical,

earnest, and searching; and that was not at all to Peter's taste. As was natural, the change excited much discussion. Some approved, but others, and amongst the rest our friend Peter, listened with a sort of bewilderment, and ended by thoroughly disliking, if not the preacher himself, at least his doctrine.

"To think," said Peter, "of a young fellow like that coming and telling us that we are all wrong together; and some of us were good Christians before he was born. To think of him saying that for all we were christened and confirmed, and have attended church regularly, and have lived good moral lives, we may still need salvation just as much as if we were heathens, and that, notwithstanding all, we may not get to heaven when we die! Believe it who likes, I won't."

One Monday morning Mr. Bolton called at Peter's shop, partly on business. It so happened that two or three of Peter's friends were with him, and that at the very time they were discussing somewhat discontentedly the sermons of the previous day.

The business on which Mr. Bolton had called was soon disposed of; but he seemed not unwilling to prolong his visit, and to hold a little talk with his parishioners, and he readily accepted Peter's invitation to step into the back parlour.

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After a little preliminary conversation, Peter said, 'Well, Mr. Bolton, if I may make bold to say so, we were just talking about your sermons yesterday."

Mr. Bolton replied that he was glad to hear it, inasmuch as it gave him reason to hope that what he had said had awakened thought and inquiry.

The sermons were both on the same text: "For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature." In the course of his sermons, Mr. Bolton showed that no rites whatever, nor any mere observance of moral duties, could save men; but that the only way of salvation was by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. He insisted, too, most strongly, on the indispensable necessity of an entire renewal of heart by the power of the Holy Spirit. They were clear, vigorous, pointed sermons, in which he had endeavoured to send home the truth directly to the consciences of all his hearers.

"But, Mr. Bolton," said Peter, "perhaps you will

excuse my freedom if I say that it is not the kind of preaching we have been accustomed to."

Mr. Bolton replied that he was sorry for that; but he had not entered on his duties on the understanding that he should frame his public teachings on the model of his predecessor's, although, of course, he wished always to speak of him with great respect. He was bound to declare God's truth as he found it in his word. Still it would give him great pleasure to enter into any explanations in his power.

Peter was quite sure he could set Mr. Bolton right, or, at any rate, that he could prove him to be in the wrong; but he did not find it quite so easy as he had calculated on. Mr. Bolton met what he had to say with perfect good temper, and sustained what he advanced by appealing to the Bible, with which he was better acquainted than Peter. The latter was soon silenced, though not convinced, and he got very angry. His pride was wounded, that he was so completely beaten in the presence of his friends, although Mr. Bolton's manner was most conciliatory.

We are sorry to say that, although Mr. Bolton paid him afterwards every attention a minister ought to do, all failed to bring him to a better mind. From that time his attendance at church was very irregular; and when he did go it was only to cavil and find fault. It was needful that God should deal with him, and after a time, in mercy, he did.

We said that it was suspected Peter had shares in railways and banks. It was quite true that he had such investments. One morning he received a letter which filled him with consternation, It informed him that a jointstock bank in which he was a shareholder, and of whose stability he was so certain that he had recently purchased more shares in it, was in difficulties. At first he resolved to keep his trouble to himself, but he found it impossible. His name appeared in the published list of shareholders; and then, too, it became necessary for him to take immediate steps for the disposal of his cottages, in order that he might meet the calls which were made upon him. So, byand-by, it was well known that Peter's savings were all

gone.

Misfortunes seldom come singly. He had been induced to enter into a new and very promising speculation, but it had proved a total failure, and had involved him in further loss. This was very humbling. It went sadly to his heart

when, his cottages already sold, he had to obtain a mortgage, to the largest amount possible, on the premises in which he carried on his business. He was not in the habit of shedding tears, but he fairly broke down when he signed his name to the mortgage deeds. Yet it may be questioned whether he did not feel the lowering of his pride quite as much as the actual loss; for he had prided himself greatly on his sagacity in business, and had often ascribed other men's failures to their want of penetration and forethought -and after all, he himself was all but ruined.

No man ever knows what temptation will come to him; nor can any man exposed to strong temptation hope to stand, unless he be sustained by the grace of God. In the capacity of trustee for the daughter of a deceased friend, he had under his power a sum of money, which, after many struggles of mind, he ventured to appropriate-of course, persuading himself that he would be able to restore it before the misappropriation could be discovered. He failed to do so, and the thing came out. He contrived, by the final sacrifice of everything, to replace it, and he was spared a criminal prosecution. The sum of all was that he was obliged to offer a composition to his creditors, which they accepted.

Many an unhappy hour did the poor man pass whilst all this was going forward. As yet he had no idea of the true source of consolation, and he tried to drown his troubles in intoxicating drink. He was often seen reeling homeward late at night. It was feared that he was on the road te utter ruin.

Things were at this stage, when an old friend and fellowapprentice of Peter's, who had long been absent from the village, went to spend a fortnight with his brother, who still resided there. Peter had always looked up to him with a good deal of respect, not unmingled with awe, for George Graham had thoroughly understood the weaknesses of his friend's character, and had often rallied him about them with good-humoured severity. After he had left Wilton, he had become a sincere Christian, and during successive visits he had vainly tried to call Peter's attention to the great concerns of everlasting life.

Mr. Graham was very sorry to hear how things stood with his friend, and he resolved at once, not only to visit him, and to show him all kindness, but also to deal with him faithfully.