nished apartment, serving as bedroom,

sitting room, and workroom was the abode of Margaret Leigh: yet in spite of its poverty it had a look of comfort and cleanliness. A table, two or three chairs, a bed, a bookshelf, and a small hand sewing machine completed its furniture. Margaret herself sat by the

skirt, and her fingers moved very swiftly, that it might be completed by daylight. At length the last stitch was set, and Margaret laid aside the spectacles which failing sight compelled her to wear, and, letting her work fall to the ground, pushed open the casement and gazed out into the street. It was the evening before Good Friday, and many footsteps were passing

to and fro the sound of merry laughter stole up to her quiet room, and the lonely woman saw a happy smile resting on many a face as it passed under her window.. Fathers were passing by with their children, young men and maidens, and merry, dirty urchins rejoicing in the thought of a holiday and "hot cross buns."

Margaret watched the motley crowd for a moment or two, then turned away with a heavy sigh and with large tears trembling in her eyes. Time was when she too had been very happy on this festal eve, and memory carried her back to the days when she was the centre of a happy home, and further back still into the days of joyous childhood. More than forty years had passed since then, and the cares of life had formed wrinkles on the brow that then was smooth and fair, and time had sprinkled with grey the tresses that then were golden brown. Ah, but the heart was as warm as ever, though the outward appearance had changed so much, and Margaret sat still for a little while and let memory have its sway. Then she roused herself, drew down her window curtain,

and sat down alone to her frugal meal.

Alone! It is a sad and dreary word, full of sorrowful meaning, and on this evening its whole significance, as far as earth was concerned, seemed present to Margaret. Doubt of God's providence crept in for a space, and terrible fear for the future laid its sickening weight upon her. She was employed as a skirt-maker for one of the large dressmaking establishments in London, and by working hard all the daylight she could only earn enough for present necessities; and with the money she received it was impossible for her to save, so that Margaret sometimes felt very low and desponding. She was a sincere Christian, and possessed true faith in her God, but under the pressure of loneliness and care it sometimes got clouded over, as on the present occasion.

When her meal was ended she rose mechanically, folded up her work, put on bonnet and shawl; then, locking the door of her room, went to take her work to its destination. A sad weary look rested on her face as she entered the little room where she usually waited for