ession; they speak loftily. Therefore his people
return, and the waters of a full cup are wrung out to them, and they
say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the Most High?"

"Is not that the way thee feels, George?"

"It is so indeed," said George,--"as well as I could have written it
myself."

"Then, hear," said Simeon: "When I thought to know this, it was too
painful for me until I went unto the sanctuary of God. Then understood I
their end. Surely thou didst set them in slippery places, thou castedst
them down to destruction. As a dream when one awaketh, so, oh Lord,
when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image. Nevertheless I am
continually with thee; thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt
guide me by thy counsel, and afterwards receive me to glory. It is good
for me to draw near unto God. I have put my trust in the Lord God."*

* Ps. 73, "The End of the Wicked contrasted with that of the
Righteous."

The words of holy trust, breathed by the friendly old man, stole like
sacred music over the harassed and chafed spirit of George; and after
he ceased, he sat with a gentle and subdued expression on his fine
features.

"If this world were all, George," said Simeon, "thee might, indeed, ask
where is the Lord? But it is often those who have least of all in this
life whom he chooseth for the kingdom. Put thy trust in him and, no
matter what befalls thee here, he will make all right hereafter."

If these words had been spoken by some easy, self-indulgent exhorter,
from whose mouth they might have come merely as pious and rhetorical
flourish, proper to be used to people in distress, perhaps they might
not have had much effect; but coming from one who daily and calmly
risked fine and imprisonment for the cause of God and man, they had a
weight that could not but be felt, and both the poor, desolate fugitives
found calmness and strength breathing into them from it.

And now Rachel took Eliza's hand kindly, and led the way to the
supper-table. As they were sitting down, a light tap sounded at the
door, and Ruth entered.

"I just ran in," she said, "with these little stockings for the
boy,--three pair, nice, warm woollen ones. It will be so cold, thee
knows, in Canada. Does thee keep up good courage, Eliza?" she added,
tripping round to Eliza's side of the table, and shaking her warmly
by the hand, and slipping a seed-cake into Harry's hand. "I brought a
little parcel of these for h