self up once and for ever to the will of God, and without a shadow of misgiving, relied upon Christ as his all-sufficient Saviour. From the moment of his conversion he seems never, through life, to have been harrassed by a doubt of his acceptance with God. The new creation was so manifest to his consciousness, that, in the most decided form, he had the witness in himself. His plans of life were, of course, entirely reversed. He banished for ever those dreams of literary and political ambition, in which he had formerly indulged, and simply asked himself, How shall I so order my future being as best to please God? The portions of his correspondence which belong to this period, indicate an earnest striving after personal holiness, and an enthusiastic consecration of every endowment to the service of Christ.

OUR FRIEND SLEEPETH.

JOHN XI.

Он mourners! clad in garniture of woe,

With softened tread ye come, and each one weepeth;
But why should tears of fond affection flow?

Our friend but sleepeth.

Calm as an infant in repose he lies,

While holy angels guard around him keepeth;
And undisturbed by clamour or surprise,
Sweetly he sleepeth.

Oh, he was weary of earth's constant strife,
Of cares which oft the heart in anguish steepeth ;.
Now freed from all the varied ills of life,

In peace he sleepeth.

His labours are exchanged for glorious rest;
The harvest of his toils with joy he reapeth;
With arduous services no more opprest,

Our friend now sleepeth.

Our friend? oh yes! he still is ours; for love,
The fancied boundary of earth o'er-leapeth,
And clasps our brother in his home above:
He only sleepeth!

He is not dead! the Christian does not die,
When the last slumber o'er his eyelids creepeth;
His happy spirit soars beyond the sky;

His body sleepeth.

Then leave him in his quiet, lowly bed,

Where lovely flowers the hand of friendship heapeth;
Weep not for him; his joy is perfected;

In CHRIST he sleepeth.

But he shall wake when, like a coming storm,
The judgment-call through all creation sweepeth,

And God's own voice shall rouse each lifeless form;
Till then he sleepeth.

H. M. W.

THE OUPHE OF THE WOOD;

OR,

THE TRIAL BY RICHES.

AN Ouphe, perhaps you exclaim; and pray what might that be?

An Ouphe, fair questioner-though you may never have heard of him-was a creature well known (by report at least) to your great, great grandmother; it was currently reported that every forest had one within its precincts, who ruled over the woodmen, and exacted tribute from them in the shape of little blocks of wood ready hewn for the fire of his underground palace-such

blocks as are bought at shops, in these degenerate days, and called by servants, "kindling."

It was said that he had a silver axe, with which he marked those trees that he did not object to have cut down; moreover, he was supposed to possess great riches, and to appear but seldom above ground, and when he did, to look like an old man, in all respects but one, which was that he always carried some green ash-keys about with him, which he could not conceal, and by which he might be known.

Do I hear you say that you do'nt believe he ever existed? It matters not at all to my story whether you do or not. He cer tainly does not exist now; the commissioners of woods and forests have much to answer for, if it were they who put an end to his reign; but I do not think they did; it is more likely that the spelling book used in woodland districts disagreed with his constitution.

After this short preface, please to listen while I tell you that once in a little black-timbered cottage at the skirts of a wood, a young woman sat before the fire rocking her baby, and, as she did so, building a castle in the air: "What a good thing it would be," she thought to herself, "if we were rich."

It had been a bright day, but the evening was chilly; and as she watched the glowing logs that were blazing on her hearth, she wished that all the lighted part of them would turn to gold.

She was very much in the habit-this little wife of building castles in the air, particularly when she had nothing else to do, or her husband was late in coming home to his supper. Just as she was thinking how late he was, there was a tap at the door, and an old man walked in, who said, "Mistress, will you give a poor man a warm at your fire?"

"And welcome," said the young woman, setting him a chair; so he sat down as close to the fire as he could, and spread out his hands to the flames.

He had a little knapsack on his back; and the young woman did not doubt that he was an old soldier.

r May be you are used to the hot countries," she said. "All countries are much the same to me," replied the stranger; "I see nothing to find fault with in this one; you have fine hawthorn trees hereabouts, just now they are as white as snow; and then you have a noble wood behind you."

"Ah, you may well say that," said the young woman; "it is a noble wood to us; it gets us bread. My husband works in it." "And a fine sheet of water there is in it," continued the old man; as I sat by it to-day, it was pretty to see those cranes, with red legs, stepping from leaf to leaf of the water lilies so lightly."

As he spoke, he looked rather wistfully at a little saucepan which stood upon the hearth.

"Why I shouldn't wonder if you are hungry," said the young woman, laying her baby in the cradle, and spreading a cloth on the round table. "My husband will be home soon, and if you like to stay and sup with him and me, you will be kindly wel come."

The old man's eyes sparkled when she said this; and he looked so very old, and seemed so weak, that she quite pitied him. He turned a little aside from the fire, and watched her while she set a brown loaf on the table, and fried few slices of bacon; but all was ready, and the kettle had been boiling some time before there were any signs of the husband's return.

"I never knew Will to be so late before," said the stranger; perhaps he is carrying his logs to the sawpits."

"Will!" exclaimed the wife. "What, you know my husband then? I thought you were a stranger in these parts."

Oh, I have been past this place several times," said the old man, looking rather confused; "and so, of course, I have heard of your husband; nobody's stroke in the wood is so regular and strong as his."

"And I can tell you he is the handiest man at home," began the wife.

"Ah, ah," said the old man, smiling at her eagerness; "and here he comes, if I am not mistaken."

At that moment the woodman entered.

"Will," said his wife, as she took his billhook from him, and hung up his hat, "here's an old soldier come to sup with us, my dear." And, as she spoke, she gave her husband a gentle push towards the old man, and made a sign that he should speak to him.

'Kindly welcome, Master," said the woodman. "Wife, I'm hungry, let's to supper."

The wife turned some potatoes out of the little saucepan, set a jug of beer on the table, and they all began to sup. The best of everything was offered by the wife to the stranger. The husband, after looking earnestly at him for a few minutes, kept silence.

"And where might you be going to lodge to-night, good man, if I'm not too bold ?" asked she.

The old man heaved a deep sigh, and said he supposed he must lie out in the forest.

'Well, that would be a great pity," remarked his kind hostess. "No wonder your bones ache if you have no better shelter." As she said this, she looked appealingly at her husband.

"My wife, I'm thinking, would like to offer you a bed," said

the woodman; "at least, if you don't mind sleeping in this clean kitchen, I think we could toss you up something of that sort that you need not disdain."

"Disdain! indeed," said the wife; "why, Will, when there's not a tighter cottage than ours in all the wood, and with a curtain as we have, and a brick floor, and everything so good about us-" The husband laughed; the old man looked on with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm sure I shall be humbly grateful,” said he.

Accordingly, when supper was over, they made him up a bed on the floor, and spread clean sheets upon it of the young wife's own spinning, and heaped several fresh logs on the fire; then they wished the stranger good night, and crept up the ladder to their own snug little chamber.

"Disdain, indeed!" laughed the wife, as soon as they had shut the door. 66 Why, Will, how could you say it? I should like to see him disdain me and mine. It isn't often, I'll engage to say, that he sleeps in such a well-furnished kitchen."

The husband said nothing, but secretly laughed to himself. "What are you laughing at, Will?" said his wife, as she put

out the candle.

"Why you soft little thing," answered the woodman, "didn't you see that bunch of green ash-keys in his cap; and don't you know that nobody would dare to wear them but the Ouphe of the wood. I saw him cutting those very keys for himself as I passed to the saw-mill this morning, and I knew him again directly, though he has disguised himself as an old man.”

"Bless us!" exclaimed the little wife; "is the Wood Ouphe in our cottage? how frightened I am; I wish I had'nt put the candle out."

The husband laughed more and more.

"Will," said his wife, in a solemn voice, "I wonder how you dare laugh, and that powerful creature under the very bed where you lie!

"And she to be so pitiful over him," said the woodman, laughing till the floor shook under him, "and to talk and boast of our house, and insist on helping him to more potatoes, when he has a palace of his own, and heaps of riches. Oh dear! Oh dear!"

"Don't laugh, Will," said the wife, "and I'll make you the most beautiful firmity you ever tasted to-morrow; don't let him hear you laughing."

"Why he comes for no harm," said the woodman. "I've never cut down any trees that he had not marked, and I've always laid his toll of the wood, neatly cut up, beside his footpath, so I am not afraid; besides, don't you know that he always pays where he lodges, and very handsomely too ?"

M