and, leaving the parties in Boston pledged to secrecy, they returned with her to Merrimack. On their way hither, Friend Buxton reproved and warned her. She gave him the most solemn promise of reformation, and he delivered her to her mother. As he left Amelia that night, he pressed her hand tenderly, and said, " Remember, Milly, it is written in the scripture that 'some of them shall fall, to try them, and to purge, and make them white.'”

A few friends were made acquainted with Amelia's necessities and new resolutions, and she wanted for no assurance or aid which she did not promptly receive.

As Friend Buxton left George Milbank, he assured him that it pleased him vastly to meet him on such business as had brought them together the day before, and he was persuaded that at such a rate the manly young debtor would soon come out even with the world. And he had been again and again rejoiced to hear what George was doing for the friendless, how well he had kept his first promise, and he often thanked the Lord that he did not follow Mercy Winthrop's advice.

"Ah, George," he continued, "I take pleasant satisfaction in these little christian duties; and yet, I believe, I am oftener mocked than praised. They tell me I am an arrant cheat, for that I cheat the prison of its lawful subjects, (which I have never done) and the gallows of its victims. But thee knows enough to tell me whether any one has been punished less, or has found an easier escape, because I tried to walk with him and prevent his continuance in evil. The same justice which would punish every fault, should not doom the offender to a life

of sin, but arrest him, reform him, and teach him to love virtue more than ever he loved vice. It is just in the Lord to punish every sin, but it would be contrary to his benevolent will to doom the sinner to perpetual transgression when by a helping hand he can convert him and lead him to holiness and peace. But to return: did thee ever see a man or woman, George, who was punished less for an offence because it was forgiven on repentance, and a virtuous life induced? Was not the ministry of punishment fulfilled the same, and was not that painful ministry a process of restoration? They say I keep bad company. James Kimball went off no longer ago than last Fourth day and affirmed that he saw one wanton, two burglars, and a pickpocket, at my table, and me in their midst, conversing with them as with respectable folks. The truth is, George, they had all been to prison and served out their time, with every sign of reformation, and the chaplain sent them to me, requesting me to help them to places where they could reclaim their characters and live useful lives without reproach. I was giving them advice when James stepped in, and he might have seen by their tears that they were punished and grieved by the very words which assured them they had a friend, and that there were hope and honor for them still. One o. them sobbed and wept when I told her of a place where she could do service for kind friends, and cried, 'O, sir, this is better than I could dare to hope; but if I had always been good, I might have been doing for others now what they are doing for me, and escaped the shame and anguish I shall carry to my grave!'

“Were you ever deceived, Friend Buxton, by such persons when you bailed them, or helped them?—did they ever rob you or leave you in the lurch ?”

“Not many times. A boy stole my watch once, while I was taking him to a good home and friends, and I have paid three forfeited bail-bonds. But this I must add, George, the boy became sick as death of his bad bargain, and in less than a month he returned the watch of his own accord; and two of the forfeits were sent me afterwards in letters.

66

I had like to forget another case. It was that of a discharged convict. He had been imprisoned for theft, and served his full time, and appeared to be an altered man. I had him about me a week before I could get him employment. I was careful to keep him from temptation, yet he managed one night to empty my pocket of a dollar or so in change. I knew that he was the offender, but treated him as though I had lost nothing, and all was right. I got him a place in the neighborhood, and saw him every day. He showed by his manner that he was guilty, and endeavored to avoid my presence; but I sought him often and inquired, 'Aaron, how's thee do by this time? Feel no kind of a desire to indulge the old error, I suppose? I am glad to hear thee's getting along so well. Shut thine eyes, Aaron, against all temptations. If ever thee wants money, and must have it or suffer, tell me, and thee shall have help. I would rather give a thousand dollars than see thee forsake thy virtue again. I will not fear for thee, but I had almost said if thee should ever be tempted to take what belongs to another,

I should rather it would be from me than any one else, that I might still hope to save thee, and help thee to live and die a good and honest man. But I will not fear any such thing, if only thee'll let me know when thee's likely to suffer for need of help.'

I saw that I touched him, as I had never before; his head dropped, tears were in his eyes, he groaned, and passed along without making answer. But the next day

he came to me and confessed his crime like a man, and told me how keenly he had suffered his great punishment. I rebuked and forgave him. He continued long to suffer for the offence, but I know that Aaron Melcher never committed another crime. And I might relate other cases of confession and repentance.”

"That is indeed encouraging, and it shows a great deal of goodness in poor human nature which is worth saving."

"Ay, ay, thee's right there, George; there's a little. spark of virtue in every heart, remaining as the earnest of redemption, and 'we are made all things to all men that by all means we may save some.'"

I was touched in my heart by the part which Milbank performed in this little drama, and also by this conversation. I could not even then dismiss the impression he gave me when years ago he stood a culprit before me. Had he snatched me from drowning waters, I know not that I could have felt quite as well towards him as though I had never heard of that single offence; but his conduct to Amelia touched me, gave me grief for my aversion, and made him look better to me than ever before.

XXXV.

TIME passed, and I met more trials and overcame more griefs. But they were small and few, for the course of my rising life was smooth and bright. My brother Jesse remained happy, and Walter kept out of that forbidden way from which he had returned with a penitence that touched while it consoled me. I found that Walter's character had suffered somewhat from the habits of indolence in which he was indulged, and from one or two unfortunate situations into which evil associates led him. True, those who knew him best, still confided in his motives as in the child-like tenderness of his free and open heart, while they lamented his feeble will and strong impulses. But somehow his character suffered greatly among the people, and many vicious things began to be laid to him which he was incapable of doing. These things gave me much trouble, and yet I clung to my brother with all the attachment of a sister's love. I thought I was improving him, and found consolation.

dear

But while the next year was passing, the very earth seemed to weep for the crimes of men, and one crime was committed which overwhelmed me with the crowning

woe.

Poor orphan Walter, how had I ever trembled for