carry among the degraded and ignorant dwellers in such abodes, alike shut out from the bright sunlight and the spiritual light of life.

As he went out, however, he gave to the little girl a pretty pictured children's tract. Chrissie took it gladly, though she did not tell the giver how unable she was to read it, lest he might withdraw the gift. On the cover her eyes rested on a beautiful figure, clothed in a long white garment, and gently knocking, with uplifted hand, at a fast-closed door. In the other hand, by a golden chain, he carried a shining lamp, from which the warm light streamed out into the surrounding darkness. The feet were bare, and the head thorn-crowned, while from the latter there shone out a soft, strange light, and the gentle, searching eyes seemed to look into her very soul. Chrissie and Nat gazed at the picture wonderingly. They could not in the least understand the strange figure, neither were they able to read a word about it within the leaves, or even to make out the text beneath, 'I am the Light of the world.' Yet they were very pleased with it; and some day,' said Chrissie, 'when I'm grown up, perhaps, I'll learn to read, Nat, and then I'll tell you all about it.' And with that vague hope they

had to be content.

Tony's leg had been so well doctored, and his cut healed up so quickly, that he was soon pronounced 'convalescent,' and hopped about the room on three legs. It is true, he protested somewhat against the splint on

his leg, but, by dint of coaxing and threatening, Chrissie prevented him from tearing it off, and the broken bone gradually re-united. But the blind man's cough continued very bad, so that he was quite unable to go out, and the little dog's services were not needed again for some weeks. So the two invalids stayed at home and kept each other company through the long days, while Chrissie and Nat were away at the Park gates.

CHAPTER IV.

'MY STAR, MY SUN.'

'Light of the lonely pilgrim's heart,
Star of the coming day,

Arise, and with Thy morning beams
Chase all our griefs away.'

FEW days after the encounter with Tim, Chrissie, having returned home one evening a little earlier than usual, wandered out alone into the dingy street from which Lamb Court opened. The evenings were warm and pleasant, and, though wearied with standing and walking most of the day, the child did not turn homewards after leaving the little shop at the corner of the court. She had been in, not for any needed purchases, but to ask for Meg, who had been ill, and missing from her post behind the counter for several days. Chrissie was grateful for the

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kindly feeling shown towards her by the rough, uncouth woman, and felt really concerned that she should be suffering.

'Mother is awful bad!' Chrissie was informed by a small, animated heap of rags, who was doing duty in Meg's place. This remark was not very satisfactory or very lucid, but Chrissie only received a series of nods and shakes from the shock of matted black hair that surmounted the heap of rags, in reply to any further questions she proposed. She had, therefore, to be satisfied, and hope that 'mother' would soon be well enough to appear and speak for herself.

Chrissie turned aimlessly into the busy street, loitering by the few tawdry shops as she passed. The little girl felt weary and dejected. Her grandfather, though regaining strength, had not yet been able to join her and Nat, and contribute to the daily very slender earnings. Warmth and light were to be had for nothing now, or the children would have been sorely pinched. Chrissie brooded anxiously, and almost despairingly, over the thought of her absent father, though she kept her feelings all fast locked up in her little sorrowful heart. now Meg was ill. Coarse and rough as she was, Chrissie missed her kind words, though they were very few, and not of the tenderest description. She had rather hoped, also, to have seen her friend Mr. Grey again, who had given her the little book, but he had not come. The book she had treasured carefully, on account of the

And

picture, but the gospel message it contained lay beyond her reach.

Suddenly, as she strolled listlessly along, the sound of singing fell on the child's ear. A sweet and simple air it was, led by a well-sustained woman's voice, while others, in various degrees of harmony and discord, made up the united effect. Chrissie had all her father's love and appreciation of music, and a correct ear, and her voice was sweet and rich, though not powerful. Nat loved to hear her sing; but the only words the little girl knew were those she had picked up by overhearing scraps and choruses of a few senseless songs. Almost as the sounds first reached her ear, they ceased; but she paused, and listened intently. Again they began, and rose and fell as before. Chrissie, almost unconsciously, drew nearer to the sound, which came from the half-open door of a little shop, which was doing duty as a temporary mission-room. Attracted by the music, she crept noiselessly into the little entry, and listened, entirely concealed from those within. It was a mothers' meeting, and the women were singing their closing hymn. Till now Chrissie had caught none of the words, for she was quite unfamiliar with any like these. The child wondered as they fell on her ear,—

"My star,"

'I found

In Him my Star, my Sun,

And in that Light of life I'll walk

Till travelling days are done.'

-was that the star that Nat loved so