fever had very much weakened him. More than once the doctor wavered in his opinion as to whether he would ever get strong again, but at last he told Mrs. Snowdon a change had taken place, and her little son was rapidly mending.

In the meanwhile Willie still kept to his little bed, and the brightness of his life consisted in watching the sunset from his casement window, and looking out for the visits of his loving friend and minister Mr. Capel. But there was besides this a little event of almost daily recurrence which caused Willie not a little pleasure and a great deal of wondering conjecture. The same unknown hand which had placed the oranges upon the cottage door-step continued from time to time to bring more, and occasionally some grapes, and once a bottle of raspberry vinegar, in the same mysterious manner, leaving them just inside the door, instead of on the step. It was not difficult to find the opportunity when Mrs. Snowdon was out, and the neighbour left in charge to look in now and again to see Willie wanted nothing, was busy with her children; but still the quiet and secret way of bringing the sick boy these little delicacies often caused Mr. Capel (who was always told of their arrival) a little uneasiHe wondered who the giver could be, and how the choice dainties were obtained.

ness.

One evening, after visiting Willie, and learning much,

as usual, from his simple and childlike faith, which strengthened him for his arduous labour in the rough and stony corner of the vineyard in which he had been placed, Mr. Capel was threading his way home through dingy back slums, where sin and misery unfurled their dark and dismal war flags, showing that, if numbers could insure victory, their's would be an easy triumph in the great world-battle between good and evil; but-thanks be to God for the revelation-we know that it is by strength, and not by number, that this life-conquest will be won; and as light hath ever conquered darkness, as the sun's rays -bright, pure, and vigorous-disperse with magnificent ease the mists and fogs of earth, so good must triumph over evil, right over wrong, God over Satan ;Mr. Capel, threading his way home through these dismal courts, came suddenly upon a lad whose black face and hands showed that he worked in the forge.

"Well, Tom, my boy," said he, kindly, putting his hand upon his shoulder, "how are you getting on? I am afraid not quite so well as usual, for I find your little savings in the Penny Bank have been all but withdrawn in the last few days. I did hope you would not touch them until the winter. What has been the reason of it?"

"I would rather not tell you, sir," said Tom, who, in spite of his black face and jacket, had a look of

superiority about him, particularly when, as now, his large grey eyes flashed into brightness, and then fell a little, as though conscious that some hidden secret would be read perhaps, did they continue to look into other eyes where truth called for truth; "I don't think you'd mind, sir, if you knew, but I'd rather not tell you."

"Well, I trust you to let me help you if in any difficulty," said Mr. Capel; and he passed on with a nod and smile.

Mr. Capel acted on the principle of trust. He knew to doubt a boy was at best an insult to his moral being, whereas to trust him was to raise, as a rule, that self-respect which is the ladder whereby men climb to deeds of great nobility and worth. But for all this Mr. Capel was not quite easy. "Tom seems a nice, well-principled lad," he mused as he continued his homeward walk; "I should not like any harm to happen to him, and I would rather he had not made such a secret of this, but doubtless it is all right. I wish I had a little more of Willie's faith."