not unlikely, he may be coming himself to inquire into your mother's situation.”

“ That I do not expect," replied the boy, with emphasis, and an incredulous shake of the head ; “uncles are all such hard-hearted · men." - "Indeed!” said the gentleman. “Did your mother tell you so ?”

“ Mother! oh, no," returned the little fellow : "you do not know mother. She never speaks ill of any one. Even when farmer Hodge twisted the neck of our last fowl ten days ago, and threw it over our hedge dead, because it had strayed into his field, mother only said, 'Let us forgive him, George, he is more to be pitied than we are.'”

... “She was right,” said the gentleman. “But who, then, was it who told you that uncles were so very hard-hearted ?"

“ All the uncles I have read of have been so, sir.”

“ And what uncles have you read of, my little man ?”

“Oh, sir, many of them. There was king John, who stabbed his poor little nephew, Arthur; and there was king Richard the

Third, who caused both his nephews to be smothered in the Tower of London."

“ Well, these are but two," said the gentleman.

“Oh! but there are more,” continued little George. “ There was the duke of Albany, who starved his nephew, the duke of Rothsay, to death; and there was the uncle of the children in the wood."

“ That last instance is not quite so well authenticated as the others," said the gentleman, with a smile; “but I see that you remember what you read. We shall hope, however, that your uncle will be less cruel than any of these ; and until he does his duty to your mother and you, I shall supply his place. Where does your mother live ?"

“In a little white cottage, sir, at the other end of the village, and on the left side of the way."

“ Well, go home, and tell her that a friend will send her some dinner from the inn; and stay, here is a picture for her.” So saying, the gentleman took a folded paper from his pocket-book, and offered it to little George. .

« Ah! sir," said the little boy, “ mother is too sorrowful to look at pictures.”

“Well, then, keep it to yourself, George.”

“ What is it a picture of ?” said George, unfolding the paper.

“Of Edinburgh Castle, and one or two other things," said the gentleman.

“ And what is all this writing about !” inquired George.

“Your mother will read it to you, and then you will know," replied the gentleman. “ It is a curious picture that,” continued he, with a smile ; “ for as long as a man has the like of it about him, he will never want money.".

“Ah! now you are joking," said little George, smiling in his turn; “for I have often bought a much prettier picture for a halfpenny.”

“Well, be it pretty or not,” rejoined the gentleman, “ take it home to your mother, at any rate; and tell her,” added he, seriously, “ to trust in Him who is the Husband of the widow and the Father of the orphan, and He will take care of both her and you."

So saying, he shook George by the hand,

and the little fellow set off towards home, walking and running by turns.

In the meantime, Mrs. Hamilton was seated at the window of her cottage, anxiously watching for her son's return froin the postoffice.

She was the daughter of a Dissenting minister, and had been left an orphan at an early period of life. But having received an education superior to her rank in society, and being possessed of considerable personal attractions, her accomplishments and beauty had won for her the affections of Mr. Gilbert Hamilton, a young goldsmith in Glasgow, who had married her shortly after his establishment in business.

The marriage had been opposed by Mr. Hamilton's relations, and more especially by his elder brother, a wine-merchant in Edinburgh; not because they disapproved of the object of his choice, but because they considered the step premature, as he had not at the time been sufficiently long in business, to know whether his income would bear the additional expense attendant on the possession of a wife and family.

This interference on the part of his rela

Y.

tions was deeply resented by Mr. Hamilton, and he immediately dropped all correspondence with them. He soon, however, discovered to his cost, that their advice had been a sound one ; and that it would have been far better, both for himself and his amiable partner, if they had deferred their union. In · no one year, from the period of his marriage,

did his income equal his expenditure. The natural consequences ensued; his circumstances became embarrassed, and his efforts to retrieve them only involved him in greater difficulties. He rose early and sat up late, in order to save the expense of keeping a clerk, and he made his journeys himself to avoid that of employing a traveller ; but all would not do. Perplexity followed perplexity ; and as he scorned to apply to his relatives for assistance, he at length became bankrupt. This his proud and unsubdued spirit could not brook; he sunk into a state of lethargy both of mind and body; and died in the seventh year after his marriage, the victim of over-exertion, disappointment, and chagrin.

Although she had enjoyed the benefits of a religious education, Mrs. Hamilton was not