Again the scene was changed. We stood together in a little low attic, lighted by one small lamp--how poor it was!--a broken chair, a rickety table, a bed in the corner where the little ones were cuddling close to one another for warmth. Poor things! the air was so frosty that their breath congealed upon the bedclothes, as they talked in soft, baby voices. "When mother comes, she will bring us some supper," said they. "But I'm so cold!" said the little outsider. "Get in the middle, then," said the other two, "and we'll warm you. Mother promised she would make a fire when she came in, if that man would pay her." "What a bad man he is!" said the oldest boy; "he never pays mother if he can help it." Just then the door opened, and a pale, thin woman came in, laden with packages. She laid all down, and came to her children's bed, clasping her hands in rapture. "Joy, joy, children! Oh, joy, joy! Christ is coming! He will be here to-morrow." Every little bird in the nest was up, and the little arms around the mother's neck; the children believed at once. They had heard of the good Jesus. He had been their mother's only friend through many a cold and hungry day, and they doubted not He was coming. "Oh, mother! will He take us? He will, won't He?" "Yes, my little ones," she said softly, smiling to herself; "He shall gather the lambs with His arms, and carry them in His bosom." Suddenly again, as by the slide of a magic lantern, another scene was present. We stood in a lonely room, where a woman was sitting with her head bowed forward upon her hands. Alone, forsaken, slandered, she was in bitterness of spirit. Hard, cruel tongues had spoken her name with vile assertions, and a thoughtless world had believed. There had been a babble of accusations, a crowd to rejoice in iniquity, and few to pity. She thought herself alone, and she spoke: "Judge me, O Lord! for I have walked in my integrity. I am as a monster unto many; but thou art my strong refuge." In a moment the angel touched her. "My sister," he said, "be of good cheer. Christ will be here _to-morrow_." She started up, with her hands clasped, her eyes bright, her whole form dilated, as she seemed to look into the heavens, and said with rapture: "Come, Lord, and judge me; for Thou knowest me altogether. Come, Son of man; in Thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded. Oh, for the judgment-seat of Christ!" Again I stood in a brilliant room, full of luxuries. Three or four fair women were standing pensively talking with each other. Their apartment was bestrewn with jewelry, laces, silks, velvets, and every fanciful elegance of fashion; but they looked troubled. "This seems to me really awful," said one, with a suppressed sigh. "What troubles me is, I know so little about it." "Yes," said another, "and it puts a stop to everything! Of what use will all these be to-morrow?" There was a poor seamstress in the corner of the room, who now spoke. "We shall be ever with the Lord," she said.