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Old Fred was sitting in the kitchen, holding a foreign letter in his hand. I saw directly that it was an Australian letter.

"It's come, maister," said old Fred, rising, and pulling a lock of white hair as he spoke; “and I've brought it for 'ee to read it to me, if you'll be so kind, sir.”

Fred's hand trembled very much; but he was much less agitated than I should have expected—I suppose because he had been so sure the letter would come. We were alone in the pleasant farm kitchen, with only the loud tick tick of the clock for accompaniment, while I opened the letter and read it. It was written in round-hand, and the lines were by no means straight ; but it was tolerably correct in spelling. As near as I can recollect, this was young Fred's letter to his father:

“Dear FathER,

“Victoria, April, 18—.

"This comes hoping to find you well in health, as it leaves me at present, thank the Lord for it. Dear father, I would have wrote before, but waited till I was out of my time, and doing something. I got off the last year of my time for good conduct, and I am shepherding up country, and wages is very good, and I send you something in this letter. Dear father, I learned to read and write in my time, and I am very sorry for the past, and hope, please God, to live a better life. And I humbly ask your pardon for all I ever done to you. Dear father, will you come out? The money is enough to bring you, and you shall never want for nothing. Whether or no, get some one to write directly. Dear father, I hope God has forgiven me for Christ's sake. God bless you. And if you come out, I will meet you at Melbourne, and I remain, your affectionate son, "FREDERICK WILSON."

"I knew it would come, maister," running down his withered cheeks. come before I died."

"It is good news indeed," said I;

said old Fred, the tears "Thank the Lord, it's

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for we have good

reason to believe he has come home to his Father in heaven, as well as to his earthly father."

"Yes," said old Fred, "Our Father which art in heaven. Thine is the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.'” We were both silent for a little while. At last old Fred, asked me to read the letter over again, and then a third time, "If I would not think it a liberty to ask it.”

"What do you mean to do, Fred? Shall you go across the seas ?"

"Noa, noa," said Fred, with a feeble smile. "I be too old and too fulish to be a traveller. Noa, maister, that 'ud never do. But the letter's come, thank the Lord."

I told my hosts old Fred's news. Kind Mrs. Rogers had the tears in her eyes when she said, "We are all so very glad for you." And Farmer Rogers, her husband, made Fred have some cold beef, and cut him a wedge of cheese before he would let him go back to M

“'Tis a good step, and you don't look none too strong," he said; "and cold roast beef and good double Gloucester never hurt any man."

The next day I answered young Fred's letter for his father. I told him how glad his father was, and how long he had hoped and prayed; and I told him, too, how old Fred had been saving almost every penny he had earned that his son might be made "comfortable" if he came home. As for the money, I promised to see that it was laid out to the best advantage for his father, who was too old and feeble to undertake a voyage to the other side of the world. Poor old Fred listened with satisfaction to the letter when I read it to him. He "made his mark" opposite his name, and looked at the addressed and sealed envelope with great awe and admiration. "Seems a queer thing, maister," he said, "that that there bit o' paper should go all they miles; 'tis like droppin' a needle into a bottle o' hay, ain't it, sir? But the good Lord 'll see it goes right, like as He did t'other."

Old Fred's faith was the faith of a little child. The remembrance of his faith and its answer has often rebuked

and cheered me when I have been ready to doubt and despair.

CHAPTER IV. -"OUR FATHER WHICH ART IN HEAVEN."

I was suddenly summoned to London a few days after this, and did not return for a fortnight. Before I went, however, I had persuaded old Fred to spend part of his son's money in buying some much-needed new clothes and a more comfortable bed. I do not think he had bought anything but boots ever since his son went away. He was always clean, but everything was so very old and worn. He looked quite respectable in his new smock and corduroys, and he showed me the coarse sheets and blankets he had bought with no little pride. "Fred allays had a good heart," he said, over and over again.

I came back in the evening. The rich tints of harvest glowed in the light of the setting sun. As I came down M— Street, I saw the river lying like a sheet of molten silver. It dazzled me so much that I was almost startled when I heard the voice of the clergyman, whom I slightly knew, saying, "I am very glad you are come, Mr. Aldridge. Poor old Fred Wilson is dying, and wishes to see you.”

“Old Fred dying! Why, he was quite well when I left !" "Yes; but he is an old man, and he has been looking very feeble lately. He had a paralytic stroke three or four days ago, and the doctor hardly thinks he will outlive the night."

By this time we were at the stable. I mounted the ladder, and found old Fred lying on the bed in the corner. A neighbour was sitting on a little stool by the bed. Fred was less changed than I expected. One hand lay helpless on the bedclothes, and one side of his face was a little drawn aside; but so little that in the imperfect light he looked much as usual. He tried to turn when he heard my step, and feebly smiled.

"I have only just heard you were ill," I said, as I took his hard, wrinkled hand in mine.

"I be a-going, maister. I couldn't go to Australy, but I be a-going a long way, too."

"Not so very far, Fred," said I.

us all."

"God is very near

"Thank the Lord," said Fred. "He's letting me go very comfortable; and He give me the letter first. Tell my boy, the letter comin' made it quite easy-like to die. God bless him! and He will bless him. Tell Fred I said so, will 'ee sir? You've been main an' kind to me, sir, and God bless you too! Will you say ‘Our Father,' sir? I can't rightly remember it myself; and then I'll go to sleep."

I knelt down. "Our Father which art in heaven," murmured Fred, as I began.

When I had ended, he lay so still that I thought he was asleep; but presently he half-raised the hand which he could move, and said, in as clear a voice as I ever heard him speak with, "For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen."

We waited there until the light had nearly faded from the little patch of window, and then I went home, promising to return in the morning. One of the stable-keepers put me

over.

I came down from the Holt early next morning; but my poor friend was dead. He had died in the night—so quietly that the neighbour who sat up with him did not know when his spirit departed. He had never spoken nor moved after I left. Those Divine words, which had been his comfort in so many dreary years, were his last.

Poor old Fred! And yet who shall say that he was not rich-"rich in faith "? He was but a poor, ignorant peasant, with a mind clouded by sorrow; but he had brought his weakness to the Infinite Strength; and the Lord, in whom he trusted, gave him his heart's desire.

"This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles."

I wrote to young Fred, and you may be sure I told him all his father had said.

Old Fred is buried in M- — Churchyard, and I had the verse I have quoted just now carved on the stone which marks his grave.

I had a letter from young Fred in due course of time, and many years afterwards I heard that he was a prosperous and useful man in the great new country on the other side of the world.

The Two Wishes.

BY THE REV. H. D. C. NUNN, ST. ANDREW's, LEEDS.

IN aged clergyman, after the conclusion of the evening service and a day of unusual mental and bodily fatigue, once remarked to his curates in the vestry, "I am thankful that the day's work is over, and that the time for rest has come, for I feel very tired tonight;" and, with a beautiful gleam of happiness in his face, he said, "But what is earthly rest compared with that which is before us! How peaceful, how secure will that rest be! Thank God we have that before us; and I must say that I shall be thankful when God in His mercy gives me that rest. You are young, but I am old, and have borne the burden and heat of the day; yet I would not live my life over again for worlds. No; I trust that ere long there will be an end to troubles and labours for me. My wish is to be with Christ, and to enjoy eternity with Him."

This was the wish of a man who had spent well-nigh fortyfive years in the ministry, during the greater part of which he had laboured in one of the poorest and most populous parishes of a large manufacturing town, where, thank God, he is labouring still. Not a few were the family troubles which he had been called upon to bear, as son after son was called to his rest in the very midst of worldly success; yet never a word of complaint had ascended to the throne on high; all of it was borne with the most beautiful resignation to the Father's will. Faith was a reality with this good man, which furnished him with an arm with which he could

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