J

Happy

appy May.

A REAL INCIDENT.

UST six years old was little May,
Just six years old that happy day,
When she as usual, lovingly,

With good-night kisses, came to me,
But with a sunny, beaming face,
E'en so beyond its wonted grace
I wondered, and, by impulse led,
"What is it, darling?" softly said.
The little face grew brighter still;
With joyful tears my eyes did fill,
For quickly answered little May,
"Oh, Jesus loves me, and to-day
He told me-not out loud, you know—
But just as true He told me so;
And right away I answered too,
'O dear, dear Jesus, I love you!'
And I am glad as glad can be

That I love Him, and He loves me!"

With words of my great joy a part,
I drew her closer to my heart;
"Oh, happy little May," I thought,
"So early to such knowledge brought—
So soon in life to find the Friend
Whom she can trust till life shall end!
To her come care or sorrow, ne'er,
Since she has Jesus, need she fear;
To her joys bountiful and pure
His favour ever will insure.

Oh that all little folks might know
As early this dear Saviour! Oh,
How happy each one that can say,
As confident as little May,

"I am as glad as glad can be
That I love Him, and He loves me!"

R. G.

CHAPTER I.

N one of England's most important seaport towns the following conversation might have been heard one Saturday, between John Lawton and Boon Bill, as he was called on the quay. They were shouldering their tool bags, and sauntering along with a

sort of done-work look about them that would have been pleasant to see, had these men been any other than John Lawton, the scoffer, and Boon Bill, who carried his character in his name.

"I say, Jack," said Boon Bill, suddenly, at the same time taking his pipe from his mouth. "I say, there's bread to be given away at the church to-morrow."

"Eh!" and Jack gave a short, sharp whistle, which might equally express surprise or pleasure; in his case, perhaps both. "Bread to be given away! Sure, then, your humble servant, Jack Lawton, is the man for that, with his sick wife and six bairns at home, all as hungry as the squire's hounds."

Boon Bill gave him a quick nudge with hiss elbow. 66 Tut, man, whose fault is that? You can't go for to say it's your wages' fault; they're not bad. The fault is, where the wages go to!"

But Jack'ss head was too full of the news he heard to notice his companion's speech; he merely said: "It's free bread, of course, Bill ?"

'Quite free as far as money goes; butt the parson's ticketed it with one condition."

"What is that ?" eagerly asked Lawton; adding, with one of his grumbles: "It's a shame to tack conditions on a poor working man's bread."

"You

"Stop a bit, my lad; wait till you've got the bread before you talk like that," said Bill, good-temperedly. mustn't go asking for it with your grumbles upon you—that much I know."

"Let's hear the conditions then; p'raps they're no such grumbling 'matter after all."

"No; you shall guess; now then-"

Jack would have grumbled at this delay, but he was too anxious to know to stop to grumble, and also knew Boon Bill too well to expect him to tell, until he had had out his bit of teasing; so he guessed. "Must be hungry, I

s'pose ?"

"Right, man."

"Must be poor?" "Right again, lad."

"Must ask for it ?"

Boon Bill laughed aloud, and then said: "Well, I expect you must. My mother used to tell us little ones that they which don't ask don't want."

"Eh! but my father'd say, them as does ask shan't have," laughed back John Lawton.

But Bill, contrary to his usual readiness for fun, looked and said seriously: "Nay now, I won't hear of that-that's not our parson's way; though I'm no church-goer, I know that he's not the sort of fellow to offer what he don't mean : bread with him means bread."

"And I suppose that means, when he makes conditions he means conditions ?"

"And I suppose too, Jack, that's what it means to all honest folks."

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"Well, but why don't you tell the conditions, and let's see if they're anything in my way?"

"It's one only; and that is, you must go to all the service not merely pop your head in to show yourself, when the sermon is just shutting up, for the sake of the loaf."

John Lawton gave a comical laugh to suit his wry face, as he said: "Eh, lad, but that's not in my way at all. Jack Lawton must be driven pretty hard before he'd go to church for the sake of a loaf of bread. Besides, I think it's a dirty trick to go there for your mouth, when you won't go there for your soul."

When Jack had uttered these last words a close observer might have seen that a ruddier colour than usual lay on his rubicund cheeks; the word "soul" had stung him, and the sting had been self-inflicted.

The men parted at an angle in the lane, and as John went one way and Bill another, the latter called after him, "When you get your loaf, don't forget' a slice for Boon Bill!"

"Yes, when." But the merry tone in which this was spoken found no echo in Lawton's heart; for he was thinking of the bread-and yet not so much of it as the condition on which it was to be obtained; when the thought suddenly occurred to him: "Is it true, or only a bit of Boon Bill's nonsense ?" But on reaching home his doubt on this point was answered by his eldest child, who met him with the exclamation:

"Father, have you heard? There's bread to be given away at our church ?"

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Yes, my lassie, that I have; and you may go and get one for us, if you like; for an extra loaf is no bad thing when a man has a long brood of chickens to go a-pecking at it." The child's countenance fell, as she whined out: "Nobody may go but you. The parson gaved out that him as wants

the bread must go and fetch it his own self."

She was afraid to say more, lest her father should fly into a passion when church-going was mentioned; but he added, with a wink: "Oh, I don't mind fetching it when church is over, not a bit do I."

66 That won't do, father. It's more than going for it the parson wants. You must bide out the whole service, afore you may as much as stretch a finger even towards it."

John Lawton evaded a reply by saying: "P'raps there's poorer folk than I be, and 'twould be shabby to get the bread over their heads."

"Oh! but father, there's bread for all who come. The baker is our Sam, and he told us he was to work up more 'n a hundred-weight of dough for to-morrow."

When Sunday morning came, John's children wondered why their father was so much later than usual coming in to breakfast; but when he did come their wonder increased tenfold. Instead of slouching in with be-piped mouth and a fishing-rod in his hand, he entered briskly, spruced up in his best clothes, and rubbing his hat round and round with his cuffs to restore its gloss, if possible.