was well kept; the dairy was a picture of neatness. Everything around the place was so fixed that they added to the completeness of the landscape. Bridget was a fine handsome girl, sought after by many, and unfortunately among her suitors was one base enough to vow revenge for the preference she gave to the man she married. Bad times came; the rejected suitor became agent for the landlord, and he perpetually harassed Norton for cash on every possible pretense; while he made base proposals to the wife, which were rejected with the scorn they deserved, and the rage of the deceiver increased. The landlord was unluckily a proselytizer. He conferred great gifts to all who would go to the English church, but was relentless against all who held out. Young Norton took sick; when he was at the worst, the agent found a flaw in his lease, and served an ejectment on the family at the very time that the husband was unable to leave his bed. Then his cattle died, some said by poison, and his crops failed. The man sank under these reverses, and died. The landlord made many offers to Bridget of assistance if she would send her children to his school and to church, and the agent contrived many species of persecution to get her into his power. Bridget fled to Liverpool, and by sheer hard work contrived to maintain her family decently for some time; but her persecutor traced her, followed her, blackened her character, so that she lost her employment. {38} Again she fled, but sickness overtook her ere she had made herself known; she lost one of her children by sickness also, and, lastly, was compelled to sell her little furniture to buy bread; last week she moved to the cellar where she died. You know in what state she was found there. Yet throughout these trials her confidence in God never has faltered; she has for the last five years suffered hardship, penury, want, and persecution. Amid all she has kept faithful to God, forgiven her enemy, and taught her children the catechism. They have often wanted food, but never missed their prayers; they have often been clothed in rags, but never neglected a mass of obligation. This, for one brought up as Bridget had been to love neatness and take pride in appearing respectable, argues no small victory over human respect. But the love of God was deeply rooted in her heart; she knew that exercise elicits virtue; she felt herself at school to an all-wise Father, who appointed for her the lessons best suited to bring out that unfailing trust which was conspicuous in her character, and which, in spite of her many trials, bore her cheerily throughout them all. Yes, cheerfulness was (as is attested by all who knew her) Bridget's most amiable characteristic, and it proceeded from her implicit trust in God. She had a martyr's courage and a martyr's love, and I think it would be risking little to suppose that even now she may be wearing in heaven the martyr's crown. Yet she passed through the world unnoticed, and certainly