At first it was a question, with him whether he would remain in the cottage or whether he would not take a larger house, and furnish it in the most modern style ; but on making inquiries as to the probable cost he was rather astonished to find that his entire fortune would scarcely furnish a decent-sized house. He was astonished, too, to find that the first ten sovereigns he drew from the bank dwindled away with remarkable rapidity, and he had not been living as a gentleman for a month before he discovered that a very decided hole had been made in his banking acconnt. Fred was rather crestfallen at this, for he saw that his reign as a gentleman would soon be over, unless he curtailed his expenses, and went in for the most rigid economy. This would be very mortifying to his pride, but still there was no help for it. So he gave up drinking champagne at the "Three Pilchards," and went back again to cheap cigars. He was more careful too with his kid, gloves, and bought fewer neckties than he had been in the habit of doing, while Ivy at home had much less cooking to do than before. He even went so far as to make a calculation of probable expenses, and finally decided that on no account must he draw from the bank more than a pound a week. At that rate his fortune would last more than two years. He would be eighteen then, and perhaps by diligent cultivation of whisker and moustache he would be able to pass for twenty, and then nobody could tell what would happen, perhaps he would be able to marry a rich wife, and live in luxury all the rest of his days. On one point, however, he was quite decided, and that was he would never soil his hands with work. He was a gentleman now, and he was determined to remain a gentleman all his life. The future looked a little hazy occasionally, but he was willing to trust to the chapter of accidents, and had little doubt that in time all his dreams would be realised. Ivy saw with pain that her worst fears were being realised. Only once, however, had she ventured to remonstrate with him, and then she was met with such a storm of abuse and insult, that she never dared to allude to the subject again. But she could see clearly how matters would end; she was almost sorry that he did not continue in the extravagant style in which he had commenced, for she thought the sooner his money was spent the sooner he would come to his senses. Captain Jack was greatly annoyed at Fred's conduct, and decided that his wisest course would be to render no help to the family while any of James Stewart's money remained. He had met Fred several times at the "Three Pilchards," and was so disgusted with his pompous ways and loud slang that he resolved to keep away from the public-house altogether. as that young "I wonder if I ever appeared to other people," he said to himself, coxcomb appears to me? Dear me, I'm afraid I've been making an idiot of myself for years past. Anyhow that young fool shall be a warning to me," and Jack started up from his seat, leaving his glass of brandy-and-water on the table, and marched off home. His old housekeeper was much astonished to see him home so early, but she wisely refrained from making any remarks. "Look here, Judy," said Jack, "I have come to the conclusion that a beef-steak will do me more good than brandy-and-water, so if you'll get me a good beef-steak for supper, you'll earn my everlasting gratitude." The old woman, who had been Jack's nurse and loved him as though he had been her own child, was almost speechless with delight, for she knew enough of his character to be quite certain that he meant a great deal more than his words appeared to convey. Often had she grieved that Jack was getting so fond of the public-house, and that he wasted his evening (among dissolute fellows instead of improving his mind at home. Several times she had remonstrated with him, but all to no purpose. And she saw how even his generosity was becoming a snare to him. He was only just turned twenty-one, and was handsome, generous, and brave, and it seemed to the old woman ten thousand pities that his manhood should be degraded at its beginning and his life cursed by vicious habits. It did not take her long to earn Jack's " everlasting gratitude," and in a very short time the young fellow was doing ample justice to the fare that had been provided. That night was the beginning of a new epoch in Jack's history. He discovered after awhile that he had a mind that required feeding as well as a body; so the money he had been in the habit of spending in brandy he spent in books. And as is nearly always the case-the more he read the more he wanted to read, and knowledge became sweet for its own sake. "Don't you think it mighty strange, Judy?" he said to his old housekeeper one evening. "What is so strange, John?" she asked (Judy always called him John). "Well, then, I'll tell you. I was so disgusted with that young Stewart (who, by the by, is going to the bad as fast as he can go), that I resolved I would be like him no longer. I dare say that I looked as big a fool in other people's eyes as he has looked in mine, and it makes me awful mad when I think of it. However, I've finished playing the fool in that direction, at any rate. I only wish that I had seen myself as other people must have seen me before. But better late than never, you know, and I thank my stars that my eyes have been opened at last." And so while Jack Winchester was resolutely freeing himself from the entanglements of his youth, Fred Stewart was daily strengthening the bands of evil habits' that already held him as in a vice of iron. He soon discovered that, notwithstanding his economy, a pound a week would not meet his expenses, and with feelings akin to despair he saw his fortune melting like snow in the sunshine. When he had only fifty pounds left he grew reckless, and began to gamble at the billiard-table in the hope of making money. Sometimes he won, and sometimes he lost. So time rolled on. At home he was a perfect torment to both Ivy and little Ned, and but for Ivy's slender earnings, both she and Ned would have been left to starve. At length the last sovereign was drawn from the bank and spent, and Fred Stewart found himself in less than twelve months after his father's death penniless; nay, worse than penniless, he was in debt and disgrace. There was not a publichouse in the neighbourhood at which he could get credit, nor a baker that would trust him for a loaf of bread. Even those who had helped to fleece him of his little fortune spoke of him as an overgrown puppy, and there was not a man or woman in the village that felt for him the least pity or compassion. Ivy had hoped that when he found his money all gone he would settle down to work, but in this she was mistaken. Penniless he was, but he had not learnt humility; vicious in his habits, he still aspired to be a gentleman. Forsaken by those who had helped him on his downward course, he still aped their manners, and 80 Ivy waited and wondered what his next move would be. She had not to wait long. It was more than his pride could bear to be snubbed on every hand, and by those who had fawned upon him while he had any money to spend. So he resolved that he would shake (off the dust from his feet and leave Northhaven for ever. In the great world of London, he thought, there would be room for talents such as his, and once there he might, like Whittington of old, win fame and fortune. But how was he to get there? That was a problem not so easily solved. He could not borrow, he was ashamed to beg; he dared not steal, even though he had the opportunity. Only one resource was left, and that was to pawn his best suit of clothes, together with certain articles of jewellery that had not already gone in that direction. So waiting until night came on he stole quietly out of the house, and had soon disposed of all his earthly possessions, and the next morning, even before Ivy was awake, he had left the village. She found a note written in pencil lying on the table when she came downstairs. "I am disgusted with Northhaven," it said, "and with everybody in it, and have resolved to leave it for ever. I am going to London, so you need not expect ever to see me again. I have no doubt that I shall make a fortune in a few years, but if you expect to hang on me you will find yourself mistaken. When I get to be rich I shall not know you, though I met you in the street. So don't expect ever to see or hear from me again." Ivy could not help smiling through her tears as she read Fred's characteristic letter. "Poor Fred! poor deluded Fred!" she sighed; then set to work, though with a rather heavy heart, to get breakfast ready for herself and little Ned. It was a very simple meal, for Ivy was very poor; and as she looked into the future she could not but wonder how she would be able to get food for herself and brother. Ned was still Ivy's only comfort, and yet he was a source of continual anxiety, for he was almost as helpless as ever. During the year he had grown a little, but it was very little, and there now seemed very little hope hat he would ever be strong or able to take care of himself. "If I had only myself," thought Ivy, "I could give up the house and go into service, or I could take some kind of situation and come home every night to sleep. But with Ned I am bound hand and foot, for I cannot leave him, even for an hour." And the next moment she had caught him up in her arms, and was almost smothering him with kisses, while she upbraided herself for letting such thoughts take possession of her for a single moment. "Did I think that I should be better off without you, my darling?" she said, fondly caressing his little wan face. "How could I think so? Ivy would rather have her little Ned with her, though she only had one meal a day, than live in a mansion and be without him!" and she pressed him to her bosom again and again; and Ned looked up in her face and said— "Ivy will not leave him, will she?" "Leave him! No, never, my darling. Ivy and Ned will fight the world together, and if we fail, lovey, we'll die together, and go to heaven to be with dear father and mother for ever," and she hugged the little fellow more fondly than ever. And yet the thought of suffering want was inexpressibly painful to her, not so much for her own sake as Ned's. She knew that he required nourishing food, and little delicacies to tempt his appetite. She could go hungry herself, and would willingly do so, but she thought she would rather die than see her little brother pining for lack of bread, and yet how was this to be avoided? Through all that day, as she busily flung her shuttle, she pondered over that painful question. She did not like the thought of applying to the parish for relief; and yet for little Ned's sake she felt that she could stoop even to that. Anything, she thought, that was honourable and honest, rather than that he should suffer want. She was very weary when evening came, and her heart was very heavy and sad, and yet she was not in despair. As she knelt to say her evening prayer, her heart grew light at the thought that she had a Father in heaven, who never forgot His children and whose love never grew cold. One after another His promises came crowding in upon her memory, banishing the darkness from her mind and lifting the burden from her grief-stricken heart. "I do not know how it is to be done," she whispered to herself, as she rose from her knees, “but I believe the Lord will provide ;" and with that thought to cheer her she lay down by the side of her little brother and slept in peace. (To be continued.) MEMOIR. MRS. ANN MOORE. ON Sunday, January 30th, 1881, Mrs. Ann Moore, of Runcorn, passed away to her rest and reward, aged 59 years. The allotted space of threescore years and ten had not been reached, but a life full of Christian zeal and earnest piety has been exemplified. For over thirty years she was a member with the United Methodist and other Churches. During this period she steadily and unwaveringly pursued her course: and amid the perplexities and necessitudes of life faithfully followed her Master-the virtues of consistency and perseverance shining forth in her life. Some amount of reserve characterised her; but she formed friendships which lasted to the day of her death, and those who knew her best admired most her sterling qualities. Her friends testify that it was an inestimable privilege to enjoy her acquaintance and fellowship. She was firm, self-reliant, patient; and possessed the power of self-control in a remarkable degree. Having once determined a course of conduct to be right she was untiring in following it, her conscience and the Word of Truth being her guide and strength. Her influence was felt by all who came in contact with her, and will last as long as life itself with those who are left behind to mourn her decease. In the class-meeting the influence of her religious life was very great. Her very presence there was an inspiration and a blessing. The members who had the privilege to meet with her, say there could be no unprofitable meetings when she was there. Her" experience" was rich in its Christ-like tone, and the Divine presence was largely manifest in her utterances. In her absence the meeting was felt to lack something; but her presence brought spiritual instruction and profit. Her class-leader says he "looked up to her," and his hands were strengthened in the discharge of his duties by the words she spoke. During the last few years her health has been failing; sometimes she suffered severe attacks of physical pain; but she suffered patiently and uncomplainingly. When in health and strength she was a most worthy example of regular attendance upon the various means of grace, but recently she has been unable, by reason of affliction, to attend the sanctuary of the Lord. Within the last few days she suffered a fresh attack of her malady of a malignant type, and her medical advisers said she could not long survive. The end came sooner than was anticipated, but after such a life of devotedness it could not have been other than it was-one of peace and rest in a crucified Redeemer. DIED DEATHS. IED at Warcop, Appleby Circuit, Dec. 31st, 1880, JANE, the beloved wife of Lancelot Atkinson, after a painful and protracted illness, borne with Christian patience and resignation, aged 64 years. Her consecrated life was gentle and generous; a loving mother and devoted wife. She was a lover of God's house and liberal supporter, and took delight in entertaining the preachers and servants of God in general. Humbly trusting in Christ alone for salvation, the joys of heaven were her portion on earth, so now and evermore. MRS. STEPHEN WATKINS, on the 3rd of January, 1881, aged 58 years. She was a member of the Hill-street Church, Newport, Mon., from its commencement. Her last illness was only of eight days' duration. Her end was peace. On the evening of January 16th her death was improved in the Hill-street Chapel by Rev. G. Lord. DEATH has been unusually busy in the Rochester Circuit during the last eleven months. Fourteen out of 200 is a sad percentage. Mr. WILLIAM COLE, 8o wellknown and so honourably connected with Methodism for fifty-six years, is one of the number. The deceased gentleman was a native of Kent, just on the border of Sussex, and near to Romney Marsh. He was early converted to God, as were all his brothers and sisters, in number eight. When quite a young man he came to this city and commenced business. He was a most diligent, clear-sighted person, and soon made his influence felt. As a local preacher his work commanded the highest esteem. In the Sabbath-school his energies were untiring. As a classleader he was most judicious and successful. He held the office of circuit steward for many years in the Wesleyan Body. If any chapel were bought or built for the Body within the compass of ten miles from his home, it was taken for granted he must be a leading trustee. At the disruption of 1849 he cast in his lot with the Reformers, and became one of the guides of the movement. Rochester Circuit prospered under his lead. Latterly he had given up his own business and accepted a responsible position in the City. He had much leisure, and bestowed it to the highest advantage. He was beloved by all classes of the community. His illness extended over twelve months, but in pain and weakness there was no repining. His religion was the life of his soul, and he triumphed in its sustaining power. His remains were buried in St. Margaret's Cemetery, the service being conducted by the Revs. W. Embleton and A. Uren. The ex-Mayor and some other gentlemen of local distinction followed him to the grave. The chapels in the circuit were draped in black, and his death was referred to in all on the ensuing Sabbath. His years were 72.-Mrs. MARY ANN EDMONDS, the wife of the highly-esteemed circuit secretary, has just been called home by the Master. For many years she had been a mental sufferer, but her trust in Jesus was unshaken. Her husband and father are both valued local preachers with us in the Rochester Circuit. NEWS OF THE CHURCHES. ACCRINGTON CIRCUIT.—Foxhill Bank.—On Wednesday evening a gathering of the friends interested in the welfare of the above Church took place in the school-room. Tea was provided, and a goodly number sat down. The after meeting was presided over by the Rev. Jas. Barker, who stated that the gathering was one of unusual interest, and the facts about to be revealed by those who would present the various reports could not fail to occasion the fullest satisfaction to all associated with the place. For a long time back great efforts had been made to so reduce the |