pretty sister married and settled in the far West, and the cousins married too, Hester lived on in the Corner House alone. Next came a mysterious illness, and great agony of pain, which none of the doctors understood, so it was called neuralgia, and nothing did it any good; sometimes she was better, and sometimes she was worse, but almost always in pain, or in painful languor. I could not say that the ten years of such a life came and went without carrying with them much faithlessness, much struggle of heart, many almost hopeless tears when there were none to see, many wayward, nay, rebellious

moods.

At first Hester thought that the terrible pain would either pass away quickly, and leave her free to carry out that growing capacity for action of which I have spoken, or that it would open the door wide into the blessed peopled home, where all love fully and work nobly. When she found that she was neither to die nor to recover, that was the time of her trial.

"There is a secret in the ways of God,

With His own children, which none others know,
That sweetens all He does."

And Hester used often to say afterward, that though she had passed through the great change, yet she had required just such a course of training and teaching to bring her into the full liberty and rejoicing of those who have no will but the will of their God. Her will had been to live and work: her Father's will for her had been to live and wait. She came through this time of trial, however, supported by nothing but the great strength of her Saviour; and thus Hester's heart was set at leisure to swell and quiver with gratitude for all the blessings left to her that dear old home; those simpleminded, attached old servants; Dr. Brown, her faithful friend from earliest years, pastor too as well as physician; and Leslie North, who, as child, girl, and woman, had been the joy of her heart, nursing her in illness, cheering her by those vividly graphic letters which nobody but Leslie knew how to write, and

even, by her very faults, turning Hester's thoughts from her pain and her despondency.

"So many blessings in heaven and earth," said Hester, "how shall I show my gratitude? not by doing great things as I once hoped, but by doing small things faithfully. Let me live and love." As love to God and man is like the sweet ointment which soon bewrayeth itself by sweetening all around, so it came to pass in this manner that Hester's love won others to love, and many were the hearts that thus learned to love the Corner House. Those in sorrow loved it, for no mother's sympathy was tenderer, few mothers' counsels so wise as Hester's. Those in gladness loved it, for Hester's pale, bright face grows ever the brighter when she hears of her neighbours' happiness. The young! Oh, how the young love it! especially on Saturdays, when they listen to "stories" from "Aunt Hester," as they all learn to call her, or romp in the old garden, or in the low odd-shaped rooms, where there is nothing to spoil, and where the mistress thereof dearly

loves a noise; "It really does my pain good, Susan," she would say apologetically. The poor loved those white, low steps, and that readily opened door. Hester could not go to seek them out herself, but she had many emissaries, while her cheerful giving heart, and her thoughtful head, were of as much use to her on her sofa, as if she were a strong woman. I must confess, however, that Dr. Brown never could get Hester cured of the bad habit of allowing herself to be cheated occasionally; indeed, he declared angrily, that he believed she liked it! Many were the lectures he gave her on the Poor Laws, and on the crime of encouraging beggars.

Others had still higher reasons for loving the Corner House. Hester's care for souls was greater than her care for bodies. Frankly and bravely did she speak, putting aside false shame and real timidity, as those speak who call the slumbering from the ruins of a falling house. Many said on earth, and doubtless many will say in heaven, "Hester Morris showed me the way to eternal life." One

class of persons loved the Corner House, who seldom are found within the range of an old maid's influence. The great sorrow of Hester's girlhood was scarcely sorrow now; but it had not withdrawn from her life its grave yet beneficent shadow; it had become one of those

"Griefs which lie in the heart like treasures,

Till time hath turned them to solemn pleasures."

Often on the sweet Sabbath, that " gleam of glory after six days' showers,"—or when the calm moonlight brings other spheres and other intelligences so very near us, Hester would murmur softly and yearningly "Walter, dear Walter! I shall see him soon." When, and how, and where she knew not, but joyfully and surely did she know that so it was to be! People often remarked that Hester never, even in jest, said a word in disparagement of the sterner sex. Tenderly and reverently she always judged them, greatly to the disapprobation of certain discontented wives and elderly maidens. Those who knew her best, knew that it was for the

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