face, smiling at her delight, which she expressed by most eloquent looks, and frequently pushing his arm, as if to keep his attention awake. As the singers proceeded, however, and Helen's voice in particular proved how deeply she entered into every word of that exquisite hymn, his eyes became riveted on them, his features lost their dark expression, and the power of sacred melody for a few moments triumphed over the evil spirit that troubled him.

'Sweet, sweet and beautiful cousins,' said Sarah, 'how I do love your faces and your songs.'

'We'll sing again, shall we?' said little Willy, and a lively hymn,

Come, let us join our cheerful songs.

When they had ended this, South, whose tears were starting, hoarsely said, ‘Bless you, sweet dears; if ever innocence and a cotton-mill went together, may you be innocent still!'

Mrs. Wright, who either from policy or some other cause had assumed her wonted composure, gravely addressed the widow. 'It has struck me, mother, that as you don't send the little boys to the mill, you might turn a good penny out of them by letting them sing ballads in the street.'

'Or make an engagement at one of the small theatres,' added Mrs. Johnson, who seemed to take it quite seriously.

'Never mind their impertinence,' said Charles to the party he was now pleased to patronize, 'give us one more song.'

'Shall it be the evening hymn?' asked Helen.

'Not until we have read and prayed, my love,' replied the widow, hoping by this means to introduce

the scripture and evening worship, at least for once ;but the words put all in motion. Mrs. Johnson, in a great bustle, turned to look at the clock, protesting she had no notion it was so late; and the rest took advantage of her rising to shew in various ways their utter disinclination to any such procedure. The widow had hoped that South would second her proposal, but he was one of the many who see the disease, and loudly complain of its effects, and even talk of the only remedy, without desiring to know any thing experimentally of its power. She had, therefore, no alternative but to join in the general good night, and to retire.

6

Granny,' said the youngest boy, as he climbed on her knee, 'this Sunday was not like our Sundays at home.'

'Only while we were singing,' remarked Mary; and a great mercy that they let us; for cousin Charles was like a wild beast, and would have done somebody a mischief.'

'Hush, Mary, you must not speak harshly of your poor cousin, but pray for him.'

'Oh,' exclaimed James, 'I shall never bear the sight of him after the words he used to his mother. I heard them, and a great scuffle too; what were they doing?'

'No harm was done, my dear. I was indeed shocked at what you speak of, but it is the grace of God alone that makes you to differ, so far as you do, from others who have not been so well instructed.'

So Helen told him,' observed Mary, ' when he got into a passion at Charles's bad words. I wonder what Richard would have done if he heard anybody speak so to you, granny?'

'Dear Richard!' said the widow, glad to change the subject, 'I trust this has been a day of peace and blessing to him.'

The children took up the theme, and went over the details of what they supposed to have been their brother's employments through the Sabbath hours. This restored their cheerfulness; and they gratefully joined in those exercises which had been rejected in the adjoining room. The evening hymn, chaunted in a low tone, closed the day; and the children could not repress their satisfaction that they were to spend no more Sabbaths in that house.

Mind,' said Mary, as she repaired to her little bed, 'mind, Helen, you call me in good time, as if we were going to milk old Buckle's cows.'

Helen forced a smile. I will Mary; and though the streets of M. are not much like our own sea-shore, the path of duty is always pleasant, for the Lord shines upon it.'

'I think Helen has turned preacher,' said Mary to herself, I never heard her talk in this way before. I wonder if the mill people will mind her. If they don't treat us with proper respect I shall make more dust among them than all the machines that old South talked of. Oh, it is all for want of a little proper spirit that the work-people are made slaves of. I can shew them a better plan.' And the poor child fell asleep to dream of conquests achieved in an imaginary mill.

HELEN FLEETWOOD.

VII.

LONG before morning had broke on the dull misty town of M. the widow Green and her family arose to pray, preparatory to the departure of the two girls. Gladly would the aged woman have accompanied them to the innermost scene of their labours, but this, she had been assured, was out of the question. However, to send them alone through the streets was not to be thought of; and after seeing them swallow a few mouthfuls of bread, she took Helen's arm, grasped Mary by the hand, and closely followed by the two boys, who would not remain, softly quitted the house.

The air was frosty, and consequently to them more congenial than the foul, dank atmosphere that usually prevailed in those pent-up thoroughfares. It breathed comparative refreshment, and imparted some buoyancy to their spirits. Helen was entering on her future task with a clearer view of its probable evils than any other of the party had taken; but strengthened by a determination to do and to suffer uncomplainingly whatever might be before her. She had spoken truly her prevailing thought when reminding the widow of the cross that every Christian must needs bear, and of their past exemption from all deserving the name. She now realized the daily

taking up of that cross, and her only solicitude was to be found following Christ under its burden. She would indeed have preferred any species of drudgery among the rural scenes that floated before her mind's eye, with their endearing recollections, in all the heightened beauty of deep contrast; but had the choice been her's, she would not for one moment have entertained a thought of deserting the post of sacred duty beside her benefactors, for the sweetest delights of her own loved native hamlet. In all Helen's pictures of earthly happiness, that family ever occupied the foreground; and an enjoyment unshared by them was a dream that never entered the affectionate girl's imagination.

Poor Mary, who intended to work such wonders in the factories by her unflinching resistance of all aggressive doings, did not feel quite so resolute under the chilling influence of a raw dark morning, as when, in her snug bed, she had watched the flickering candle that cast its ray on the page her grandmother was studying. Gladly would she have been spared the trial that now drew near; but no outward sign of such misgivings was apparent. On the contrary, she endeavoured to trip with a gait as lively as when bounding along the eastern cliff towards old Buckle's shed; but that was impossible. However, she bore up with a sprightly air, frequently turning to cheer her brothers with the promise of bringing home at night a full, true, and particular account of her expected adventures through the day.

At length they reached the mill, and there they found a pale, sleepy, little crowd, who, like themselves, were somewhat too early, shivering in the ungenial air. A large lamp was burning over the