eight years before, when he was about sixteen, thinking, very foolishly, that he was too old to be taught any longer; and he very soon gave up going to public worship too, except just now and then. His Sundays were spent sometimes in the fields, and very often, also, a part of them in the publichouse. His leaving Hillford was, in this respect, a great blessing-it separated him from companions who might before very long have led him far astray.

Better still, when he went to Manchester he fell under good influences. One of his new shopmates, a little older than himself, and a sincere Christian, kindly invited him, the very first week, to go with him on Sunday morning to' the church he attended. George liked the minister, and he liked the service, and so he went again. The Word reached his heart, and believing in the Lord Jesus Christ, he found salvation. He was then asked to take a class in the Sunday-school, and he consented. Then, after about two years, he married an excellent Christian young woman, and set up a home of his own; and a very happy home it was.

One day when he went home to dinner-this was about ten years after he had gone to Manchester-he found a letter which had been delivered that morning. It was from one of his Hillford shopmates and companions, Harry Nelson. Harry had left Hillford shortly after George. He was now in a distant part of the country. He had heard, accidentally, that George was foreman at Manning and Evans's, and that the shop was one of the best in Manchester. He had had a good many changes since he left Hillford, and he was not very comfortable where he was. Could George help him to a situation? George wrote to say that he could, and that he might come as soon as he liked. Accordingly, in three weeks more, Harry Nelson was at work in Manning and Evans's, under his old companion George Bains.

"Come and have a cup of tea with us this afternoon, Harry," said George, the first Saturday after Harry's arrival.

"My wife will be glad to see you, and we can have a talk about old times and old friends, and about all that has happened since we left Hillford.”

Harry gladly accepted his friend's invitation, and at five o'clock he presented himself at George's door. He found everything in the house nice and tidy, and he received a hearty welcome from both George and his wife. They talked together about Hillford and their old shopmates, and about what had happened to themselves in the ten years which had passed since they met, and a very pleasant talk it was to both of them.

About half-past six o'clock, Mrs. Bains opened the door of the little parlour in which she had left her husband and Harry, and looking to the former, said, "The children are quite ready; are we to come?"

"Ay, to be sure," replied George. "Harry will have no objection, I am certain."

Harry looked at his friend inquiringly, as though he scarcely knew what it was to which he would not object. "Oh," said George, we are going to have family worship. We always have it early for the sake of the

little ones.".

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It was a complete surprise to Harry. It had somehow or other dawned upon him that George was a different kind of man from what he was at Hillford; but he had hardly expected that. Why, he remembered distinctly how George had laughed at everything of the kind! Of course he could only say, in common courtesy, that he had no objection. Still it was something quite new to him. In all his lifeand he was four and thirty years old—he had never been present at family worship anywhere.

The children took their seats, with the exception of baby, whom his mother kept on her knees, and then George gave out a simple little hymn, which the elder children could quite understand, and they sang it; then he read a portion of Scripture, saying a word or two about it; and after that they all knelt down, and George offered prayer. The prayer

was short, but it was very earnest; and in the course of it George prayed for Harry and his wife and children, that their removal to Manchester might be a blessing to them all. The little ones then kissed their father, and their mother took them off to prepare for bed.

"And so,” said Harry Nelson, when they were thus once more left by themselves, "you've turned religious, George. How long is it since you began that?"

Harry was one of those men who pride themselves on speaking out their minds; and he had fully resolved that, although George was his foreman, it should make no difference in that respect.

"Very soon after I came to Manchester," replied George; "and that's now ten years."

"And you go to church every Sunday, and read your Bible, and good books, and all that sort of thing?" asked George; "and you never go of a night to take a glass of anything in a public-house ?"

"Well, Harry," replied George, "you've guessed pretty nearly right. Unless something is the matter, I never miss going to public worship twice every Sunday; and as for the public-house, certainly, I never enter one."

"Wonders will never cease," said Harry. "If anybody had told me that at Hillford ten years since I should have laughed at them."

"I rather think," said George, "I should have done the It is, as you say, a great wonder, and many a time I am amazed at it myself."

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And you've had nearly ten years of it," said Harry. "Now tell me honestly, are you not about tired of it ?”

"Tired!" replied his friend, with a pleasant smile, "not yet; and I don't think I'm likely to be. Ah, Harry, if you only knew how happy religion makes a man, you would not talk about being tired of it."

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Well, all I know is," said Harry, "I should have been tired of it long before this."

"That's because you never tried it, Harry," replied George.

"I have tried both ways, and I have no mind to go back to the old one."

"If you have no objection, George," said Harry, "I should like to put a plain question."

"Well, Harry, what is it ?"

"I should like to know," said Harry, "what better you are than me- -I mean, what better you are than me for your religion. Where is the great difference between us?"

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"I hardly like to put it that way," replied George. Suppose we leave ourselves out of the question, and put it this way: 'What better is any man for being religious ?'"

"Well, it comes to pretty much the same thing," said Harry; "have it your own way."

"But," said George, "let us have a clear understanding before we begin. What do you mean by being religious?" Oh, that's plain enough," replied Harry; "going to church, reading the Bible, praying, and all that sort of thing."

"Yes, Harry," said George; "but there must be a good deal more than that to make a man really religious, as I understand religion."

"Ay ?" asked Harry. "What?"

"As I understand it," replied George, "real religionBible religion-begins with believing in the Lord Jesus Christ. We are poor, guilty sinners, and we can be forgiven only because the Lord Jesus died for us, and then because we put our trust in Him. Our hearts are sinful, and they need to be changed, if we are to hate sin, and forsake it, and do what is right; and only God Himself can change them by the power and grace of His own Spirit. Then, our sins forgiven and our hearts renewed, we must take the Bible and read it, resolving that, with God's help, we will try to be and to do everything it commands. And then we must pray to God for His mercy, not only on Sundays, but every day of our lives. It is a thing of the heart first, Harry, and then of the life."

"If all that goes to make up real religion," said Harry, "I have a notion that a good many people's religion is not worth much. But, now, supposing your account of it to be right, I want to know what better a man is for being religious in that fashion ?"

"Were you ever ill, Harry," asked George; mean, as to feel it likely you might die ?"

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so ill, I

"Ay, that I was," replied Harry, "three years since. I thought it was over with me, and so did everybody else." "Did you want to die?"

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'No, indeed," said Harry; "who does ?"

Why not?" asked George. "I daresay you felt it hard to part with your wife and your children for ever; but was there not something else? Did not you feel, as you thought of your life, that you had been a great sinner? and were not you afraid of something after death ?"

Harry coloured and hesitated. "Well," he said at length, reluctantly, "I daresay I did feel something of that sort."

"There, then," said George, "is a wonderful difference between you and any man who really believes in the Lord Jesus Christ. It is a happy thing at any time to be able to say, 'My sins are all forgiven, and God loves me ;' but it is a specially happy thing to be able to say it when a man is looking straight into eternity."

"There's something in all that," said Harry.

"Besides that illness, Harry," said George, "you have had in your time, as you told me, a good deal of trouble of one kind or another. Now tell me, what comfort had you

"Comfort?" replied Harry; "the only comfort one had was, as far as I recollect, in trying to forget it; unless indeed it were in hoping that it would be over some day."

"Rather poor comfort that, to my mind," said George. "Now, I have had troubles in my time; but I won't speak about myself. I would like rather to tell you what I have seen in other people. Well, then, I have seen Christians in all kinds of heavy trouble. Some of them were sick, and they