doubt, which gradually warped the minds of the children, and checked the growth of love and gratitude.

Mrs. Sinclair became secretly unhappy, because she perceived she made but little way in the elder children's affections. She was too wise to complain, but being of a kindly nature, she felt it deeply. Happily she was a Christian, and knew where to carry her griefs and how to obtain strength to bear them. Prayer was to her as it should be, and would be, if carnestly tried, to every mother—a refuge in trouble, small as well as great.

Perhaps Mrs. Sinclair erred, as I have known many kindly women err in similar circumstances, in passing over much in the manners of the children, which she would have punished in her own. She feared reproof would be misconstrued, and it was only when she was obliged for the children's own welfare to be faithful, that she mildly and with reluctance corrected them. She was a quiet, silent woman, rather overpowered with her responsibilities, and her manner grew constrained as she found that she did not win love. If she had not herself felt love she would not have thus yearned for it. Her husband was very dear to her, and his children as a part of himself were also dear. She had indeed comforted herself in having no children of her own-natural as it is for a wife to wish to be a mother-by the thought that she could more fully devote herself to her adopted little ones.

But, as we have said, wicked influences operated against her with the children. It is Divinely taught us, that "a whisperer separateth chief friends;" and whisperers were at work with the young Sinclairs. They did not become openly rebellious, but they were discontented and ungrateful. Poor children! of course they made themselves unhappy; all evil corrodes the heart and eats out peace.

lived near Coventry. He was a skilled workman, earning good wages; but many circumstances, his large family, the long illness of his first wife, the expenses of his scattered household during his widowhood, the inevitable cost of again gathering a home together,-all had prevented there being any reserve fund to fall back upon in case of reverses. Suddenly a heavy calamity befell the poor man. He took a severe cold, which resulted in inflammation of the eyes; and after months of suffering he was threatened with entire blindness.

At last he found he must entirely give up an employment for which excellent eyesight is essential, and he had neither capital nor ingenuity nor energy to enter on any other. His general health had suffered, and he was depressed and wretched.

In that time of trouble none of those who had once so busily infused their doubts against Mrs. Sinclair into the minds of the children, came forward to offer to help the family. One of the aunts said: "If Margaret had lived, we would of course have helped her in her difficulties, but we don't see that we are bound to help the present wife. She took Sinclair 'for better for worse,' and must bear it."

Now came the trial of love. Mrs. Sinclair had in her youth learned dressmaking, and though out of practice, she went to a lady in Leamington whom she knew, the wife of a leading dentist there, and asked for some plain kind of dressmaking. The lady had a large family; and merely out of compassion resolved to try her with some morning gowns and frocks. If not fashionable she was neat, and prompt, and moderate in her charges.

"Mother," said Emma soon after, "how close you work!"

us.

"I must, dear; there are so many of

"But you never can keep us all ; father

dear, how hard it is! Aunt Jane might take little Lizzie, and then, mother, I could help you more."

two little girls would have thought it very hard to have had to leave their mother. Those first years of arduous struggle

They were brave words, and the tears rose in Mrs. Sinclair's eyes as she uttered them, but she did not let them fall. Emma turned away, and going to the little attic where she slept, wept outright; for, as she told her Sunday-school teacher afterwards, she felt how hard her heart had been to one who was so good.

Ah, it is a blessed moment when we are led to see that we have been wrong, and a still more blessed one when we are led to do right! It was a moment never forgotten in Emma's history. She began to help her mother, to be a true daughter to her. If she was not able to do much yet with her needle, she could undertake the household work and the care of the younger children.

Work came in,-poorly paid for at first, -it was hard-earned bread for the family; but it was sweet, for it was honest and hopeful.

Poor Sinclair, with his pained and dimmed sight, and his dreary, drooping spirits, felt the warmth of his wife's love soothe and cheer him. He was conscious of a new spirit being manifested in his household. In their poverty and sorrow there was more of home feeling, because there was more of love, than in the time of his first bringing home their new mother.

Slowly yet surely the little business increased. Mrs. Sinclair moved to Leamington. Emma grew into a skilful helper. The eldest boy went to a draper's. draper's. The younger, after school hours, was useful in taking home work and going errands; the

children. She established a business, and gained them a livelihood. Her husband's eyes recovered, but not to enable him again to work at his old business. He was industrious, and with renewed hope struck out a new path for himself. In so fashionable a place as Leamington house agents want help; and as a sensible, conscientious Sinclair was found useful in letting houses and taking inventories. So that by the time Emma was one or two and twenty, the whole family were in prosperous circumstances.

man,

upon

Mrs. Sinclair had no longer to work so hard, though superintendence of course devolved her. The children grew up loving and useful. The home was happy; and as Emma talked privately to her brothers and sisters, she would often say in effect, if not in these actual words :

"I can never forget or cease to love the memory of our own dear mother; but I am sure in her heavenly home, if she could know about her children, she would rejoice that we love the dear soul who came to be a mother to us. If she did not give us life, she has given us the means of living. She has made us all a home, and kept our dear father happy. Never talk to me against step-mothers. It is the bitter prejudice which so often makes them bitter. Wicked feelings perpetuate human wickedness."

All who knew the household of the Sinclairs, and the sweet character of the woman who had been the "home-maker," would agree that Emma's grateful words had been most truly merited by the loving and devoted step-mother.