While yet a young man, he met, at the house of a friend, a lady of strong religious tendencies. Strongly drawn to her by the attraction of a well-balanced mind and a beautiful exterior, he resolved, if possible, to win her affections. So great was her influence upon him, that, for a time, the force of evil habits lost its power, and other society was readily relinquished for hers, and the house of God beheld him an outwardly reverent worshipper at her side. Alas! that one so influenced by the power of human love should have missed those gracious impressions which, made on the tender heart of childhood, so often prove the good seed of the Kingdom, springing up into life eternal. In thus taking upon himself the profession of Christianity, Roland was no hypocrite. He had seen the beauty and acknowledged the power of a life that was far above him, and from his heart he loathed the life he had hitherto led, and earnestly desired to put it away for ever. But strong only in his own strength, and looking to no higher power than earthly love to aid him in his upward course, what marvel that he deceived himself and others also. With his heart's desire at length accomplished, and with renewed prospects of a bright future, Roland West might have retrieved the dark past, and entered upon a career of usefulness, such as had been fondly pictured for him. Was it so? Let one scene, after a lapse of twelve years, tell its sorrowful tale. In a cottage in one of the crowded suburbs of London, a pale, anxious-looking mother was alternately sewing and directing the studies of a fine boy, with a massive forehead and intelligent eyes. "Mother, I've mastered it at last; I'm so glad," he said presently. "That's right, my son; you are quick, like your father," his mother replied with a sigh. "My father quick!" said the boy with ill-repressed contempt; "I didn't know that before." "Hush, Allan, your father was very clever when I first knew him, and could do anything he liked." "Then why does he leave you to work so hard now, while he lounges about all day? Mother, I must speak; tell me that!" cried the boy impetuously. "I cannot have you speak of your father like that, Allan; but I will tell you why he cannot now do what he ought. When he was a boy like you he was allowed to choose his own way in everything, and have all that he asked for, and he chose wrong companions and sinful pleasures until he ruined and blighted his own life and others too." Allan hung his head, and remembered how he had sometimes rebelled against the wise decisions of his much loved mother, and determined that in the future he would add as little as possible to the heavy burden that rested upon her frail shoulders. There was a step outside, and Mrs. West rose hurriedly saying: "Clear your books away, and go to bed, Allan; I must lay supper;" but before Allan had time to obey, his father entered.