'AT EVENING TIME IT SHALL BE LIGHT.'

'His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.'

HE next morning dawned bright and sunny. Martin awoke betimes, and, rising a full hour earlier than usual, became quite impatient for his breakfast. Good Mrs. Day was never behind-hand, and the meal was often ready before Martin's appearance. This morning, however, he had grown weary of the daily paper before breakfast came in. Martin looked the picture of health and energy as he despatched his meal, and set out on his walk.

He was anxious to reach Lamb Court before Chrissie and her grandfather would have left their home for the

day. As he passed the little shop at the corner, and turned down the court, how vividly he recalled that sad Christmas Eve, when he had come so near to his dear ones, and yet returned, heart-sick and lonely, to his lodgings.

Though now full of joy, it was not without feelings of deep pain that he glanced round the wretched court. Though the sweet sunlight made it far less dismal than usual, it only served to show up more clearly the dirty and half-ruined condition of the tumbledown houses; and more children than ever screamed and quarrelled in the muddy road.

It was amid such scenes amid such wickednessthat he had left his own dear children to dwell! Surely it was the tenderest mercy his Heavenly Father could show, to remove his little lad, forsaken by his earthly father, to a bright, pure home above!

Up the narrow, creaking staircase of the lodginghouse went Martin Cameron. On the way he met Nell, who directed him to the right room, refraining from any further remark, though she guessed at once who the stranger must be, and forgot the errand on which she had started as she ran eagerly back to Granny with the good news.

Chrissie was just arranging her flower-basket for the day, and old Donald enjoying the first warm beams of spring sunshine on his closed eyes, as he sat in his corner by the window.

It was the first time, since

the bitter winter, that their warmth had tempted him from the fireside. The door was not quite closed, and Martin caught sight of his father's figure, and gently called him by name.

The old man turned towards the voice, recognising it instantly, and tried to rise from his chair. My own son!' he cried; Martin, my boy!'

But he was weak from recent illness, and trembling with glad excitement. Martin sprang forward and caught him just as he was in danger of falling, and gently guided him to his chair; while Chrissie, who had not seen her father till he entered the room, dropped her flowers, and flung her arms about his neck in loving welcome.

'Oh, father father!' she cried, in a transport of joy; 'we've been looking out for you every day. I knew you'd come. We'd heard about you, but how ever

did you find us out?'

'My little girl,' said her father lovingly, as he took the child in his arms and stroked her sunny hair. 'My own little Christine, your friend Mr. Grey sent me here. And so you are glad to see father, are you, and have kept a welcome for him all these years?'

Alas! at

Chrissie had hidden her face on his shoulder, and was sobbing with pleasure and excitement. Old Donald held his son's hand fast in one of his own. that moment he felt, more keenly than ever before, the loss of his sight. Oh, for one look at the dear face!

But he kept Martin constantly talking to him, and so, through the senses of hearing and touch, fully realized

his presence.

'Father,' said Chrissie softly, looking up into his face with a slight shadow on her own,-' father, have you heard about our Nat?'

'Yes, dear,' said Martin, kissing her fondly; 'Mr. Grey told me. The dear Lord, Chrissie, has given our darling a better home than I could provide for him. You must be son and daughter both, little one.'

Chrissie had nestled down again. She was relieved to find she need not be the bearer of such heavy tidings, and that, for her father, the first shock of grief was over. Very lovingly she thought of her little brother; but his perfect happiness was so present to her mind, that her loss scarcely cast a shadow on the present exceeding joy of welcoming her dear father.

How long they sat and chatted, and rejoiced in one another, none of them knew. The bright spring flowers drooped in Chrissie's basket, for she had stopped so abruptly in her task, that they were left without their supply of damp moss to keep them fresh for the day. There was much to tell and to hear on both sides, and it was also needful to arrange for the future.

Martin looked with shame upon the poor bare little room, and was anxious to remove his father and child at once. But it would take some time to seek out

a suitable cottage in the country. A bright idea

suddenly struck him. Mrs. Day had another comfortable room to let. He would take it for Chrissie, while his father should share his own, and they would live together at Mrs. Day's till he could decide on their future home. He would be glad, too, that the rent he paid for them should go into the good woman's hands. And so it was settled that they should spend but one more night in the dreary little attic, and to-morrow Martin would fetch them to better quarters.

But, before he left, Chrissie insisted on her father going in to see old Granny. The crippled woman was only too pleased to receive her visitor, and Nell introduced Mr. Cameron' with a special pride, feeling that her husband Jerry had been such an important link in the strange history. Like every one else who came in contact with her, Martin was charmed with the sunny brightness of his little girl's kind old friend, and was very pleased, moreover, to have an opportunity of thanking her for her motherly kindness to Chrissie, shown just when it had been so sorely needed.

I shall miss my dear little friend,' said Granny, as they parted, 'miss her every day; but oh, I'm glad, very glad to think the dear child has found the shelter of a father's care and love at last! I knew the Lord of light would never suffer the little feet to stray from Him into paths of darkness and sin; still, anxious thoughts would rise, sometimes, for the