THE church bells were ringing cheerfully one Sunday morning, and the sun was shining brightly even in the close streets that abound in the neighbourhood of the Seven Dials, when a gentleman, carrying a rather large parcel in his hand, walked down the narrow street and turned into Little Earl Street. As he was passing rapidly along, a little boy; who was leaning against a door-post, started forward and said, "I'll carry your parcel, sir, for a couple of pence."

The gentleman paused, and looked at the little fellow, who seemed to be about twelve years of age, and whose clean face, although his clothes denoted poverty, showed that he had a wish to present a decent appearance. "Do you forget, my

boy," he said, "that this is the Sabbath-day?"

"No, sir," replied the boy.

"Then you must forget, or perhaps you never have learned, the fourth commandment?"

"Indeed I have, sir; I know it very well."

"Repeat it for me."

The little boy repeated the commandment correctly, and as soon as he had finished the gentleman said, "You have certainly said it correctly, but I hardly think you have reflected much on its meaning: it distinctly orders that on the seventh day no labour shall be done, yet you have offered, although it is the Sabbath-day, to carry this parcel for hire. Are you so poor as to be compelled to work even on the Lord's day?"

"Yes, sir," replied the boy, hanging down his head. "I work all the other days of the week, nearly all day, for my master, and have but little time to earn anything for myself;

but if I get any little job to do on Sunday, I have the money to buy something for myself."

"What do you buy?" asked the gentleman.

"Sometimes bread, sir, or an orange, or maybe a little story-book."

"Then you can read?"

"Oh yes, sir, I learned when I was a very little boy," replied the little fellow, brightening up, as he thought the lecture was over, from the questions of his interrogator.

"Well," said the gentleman, "it appears that you do not go to a Sunday-school, although you might attend one. If you have a mother, ask her permission to come with me to the Sunday-school, where I am now going, although late, having been detained by going to see a sick friend; and as you appear to like reading, I will give you a story-book to take home with you."

"I have neither father nor mother, sir; they both died three years ago. But I can go with you, for my master will not want me until to-morrow morning."

"Come with me, then," said the gentleman, walking on quickly, and continuing to talk to the boy until they reached the door of the Sunday-school. In the course of the conversation he discovered that the boy's name was Joseph Sibley, and that his father, who had been a lawyer's clerk, had died of a fever, which had also carried off his mother in a few weeks after. Little Joseph was then but nine years old, and when he was thus left alone and desolate, he had tried to earn a livelihood by selling matches and carrying parcels near the railways; but for some little time past he had been employed during the day carrying home vegetables for a greengrocer, and selling matches and playbills for himself at night, near the theatres. As his master did not feed him, he said, he was often either hungry, or obliged to go without a bed, for want of the means to pay for it, and that was the reason why he did any job he could get on Sundays. In answer to a question from Mr. Wilson, he said that his parents had been

good people, and had taught him out of the Bible on Sundays, besides taking him regularly to church.

As they entered the school, a chapter was being read by the boys on a form near the door; and Mr. Wilson, directing Joseph to sit down on the end of the form, passed on to the upper part of the school-room. At first the little boy looked round the room with curiosity; but presently a boy near him, as it came to his turn, read a verse that enchained his attention, and which, while he listened to the conclusion of the chapter, still rung in his ears. The verse was this-"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” As he thought on it the tears rose to his eyes. Did God really so love the world? Did he love him, who had no one on earth to love him?—and if so, how wicked it was not to love him in return! As he sat thus plunged in thought, Mr. Wilson again stood beside him; but he was so absorbed that he had not heard him approach.

"What are you thinking of so intently, my boy?" asked Mr. Wilson, after he had stood for a full minute looking at him. Joseph started as he heard the voice addressing him, and answered, in a tone of deep feeling,

"Oh, sir, I was thinking of the beautiful verse that little boy (pointing to him) read. Does the great God really love the world so very much?"

"Yes, my dear boy; God loved us while we were living in sin, and sent his own Son to die for us. What earthly friend would do so much for us? Who can love like him whose name is Love? You saw that parcel in my hand, Joseph-it contained little books which are lent or given to the children of this school to take home and read for themselves and their parents or friends. Here is the one I promised you; it is a story of a little sailor-boy, who got on well in the world by obeying God and loving him. We are now going to sing a hymn and pray, and after that all the children go to church. There is afternoon school at three o'clock: I hope you will be

present. Wait for me at the church-door." Having promised to do so, Joseph resumed his seat, holding his pretty little blue-bound book in his hand.

As Mr. Wilson came out of church, he looked round for little Joseph (in whom he began to feel a great interest), and soon discovered him standing near one of the pillars. There was an open, ingenuous frankness about the boy that pleased the gentleman greatly, and he began to hope that, with God's blessing, he might be the means of leading this wanderinglamb into the fold of the Good Shepherd.

Beckoning to the boy, he walked quickly in the direction of Holborn, and turning into Dyers' Buildings, soon stood beforea hall-door in that quiet spot. Letting himself in with a latchkey, he told Joseph to follow, and saying that as he had prevented him trying to earn a dinner, he must give him one, he placed the little boy at the table, on which cold meat and bread were laid, and having asked a blessing, proceeded to dine with all dispatch.

At first Joseph was rather abashed at the novelty of his position, but, encouraged by the kind manner of Mr. Wilson, he soon ventured to feel more at his ease, and to enjoy the dinner so kindly provided for him. As soon as dinner was over, and thanks had been returned to the Divine Being, Mr. Wilson told Joseph that he was now going out to see two or three poor people who lived near the Sunday-school, and to whom he was in the habit of reading a chapter every Sunday, before the afternoon school commenced, and asked him would he like to go with him. Joseph replied, gratefully, that he would like very much to do so, and, after a rapid walk, found himself once more in the neighbourhood of the school, when, turning down a narrow lane, Mr. Wilson entered a house, and ascended a dark, winding stair, until he reached a door, that was just at the top of it.

In answer to his gentle knock, a feeble voice bade him come in, and, opening the door, Mr. Wilson and Joseph entered the room. A large window was just opposite the

door, and through it the sun found entrance, even in that narrow lane, gilding as with a halo the snowy head of a venerable-looking old man, who sat beside it. A bright smile lighted up his face when he saw Mr. Wilson, who, taking a thair near him, and making Joseph sit down at a little distance, talked for awhile kindly to the old man, and listened to his account of the week that had passed since his last visit.

"I am much the same, thank you, sir," said the aged man in reply to an inquiry about his health; "waiting quietly for my summons: I am ready for it, blessed be God, whenever it comes, for I know that my Redeemer liveth."

"Yours is a happy frame of mind," said Mr. Wilson. "Where shall I read for you to-day ?"

"If you please, sir, read the 21st chapter of Revelations. I was thinking of it last night as I lay awake, and wondering when I should tread the golden streets of the beautiful city."

Mr. Wilson opened his Bible, and as he read the description of the heavenly Jerusalem, where there shall be no "need of the sun, for God himself shall be the light thereof," little Joseph listened with solemn awe; his eyes sometimes resting on the venerable man before him, who, it was evident, would soon enter in at one of those pearly gates and enjoy the perfectness of that peace that had commenced for him on earth. A few words of prayer closed the interview, and with a blessing from the aged saint they withdrew.

Joseph had been so absorbed in what he had been hearing, that he had not looked about the room, which presented a great contrast to the rest of the house, being neat and clean, and the oak furniture of which, although very old-fashioned, was highly polished and in good preservation. He heard in after times that the old man, Maurice Hales, had been reared in a nobleman's family, in which his mother had been nurse; and having gone through the various grades of pantry-boy, page, and butler, he had as the last lived in the family until old age and infirmity had compelled him to retire from his