Very often in succeeding years did May Mytton think on the doubt expressed by her dying sister as to whether the possession of an estate would make their father happy. It certainly never did so. The chopper of faggots, uneducated, unfitted to mix in the society of those now his equals, proud and shy, afraid of ridicule, and painfully conscious that his rustic manner must expose him to it, was more miserable in his fine old mansion than he had been in his lonely cottage. The conduct of Joe and David planted his pillow with thorns. They were sent to a fashionable school, where they learned, indeed, much that gentlemen's sons are expected to know, but with it, acquired habits of reckless extravagance and folly. The boys thought themselves far more of gentlemen than their uneducated father could be, and Mytton bitterly felt that they did so. They wasted his money, despised his control, embittered his life by their excesses, and at last disgraced themselves in the sight of the world. To Mytton and his two younger sons, the inheritance so eagerly desired had brought sorrow, disappointment, and shame! It was not so with May, or with Silas her eldest brother. They never set their hearts upon riches, nor chose their portion here. They made use of the wealth which they inherited as a trust confided to them by their heavenly Master, most enjoyed when most laid out to His glory. For Amy's short life of suffering had not been spent in vain: the Bible which she had given, the words which she had spoken, had been of far more avail in ennobling the two who loved her best, than all the broad acres of Mytton. May, amidst many family trials, pursued her course of usefulness in humble faith, cheered by the hope of rejoining her sister, and rejoicing with her for ever, in that bright inheritance above which the Lord hath prepared for them that love Him! A SAINT OR, A CHRISTIAN IN CHARACTER. CHAPTER I. The Patient Restored. "I'M glad that you'll have your husband back again to-day, Mrs. Laver, and I hope that such a long time spent in the hospital will have set him up for good," said Mrs. Batten, the fishmonger's stout good-humoured wife, as she took up the little parcel of snuff which she had just been purchasing at Mrs. Laver's counter. "It is time he was back indeed. I've had the shop on my hands these ten weeks, or rather, I may say, these six months, for Martin was, I may say, good for nothing long before he took to his bed," replied Mrs. Laver.