lectures on the “Scheme of Salvation,” and his discourse was a reproduction of his notes thereon. The wheelwright and his wife, and the six labourers with their wives, listened as oxen might listen, wandered home along the lanes heavy-footed like oxen, with heads towards the ground, and went heavily to bed. The elder student who had accompanied Mr. Thomas informed him that, on the whole, he had acquitted himself very well, but that it would be better, perhaps, in future to be a little simpler, and avoid what “may be called the metaphysics of Redemption.” “No doubt,” said he, “they are very attractive, and of enormous importance. There is no objection to expound them before a cultivated congregation in London; but in the villages we cannot be too plain—that, at least, is my experience. Simply tell them we are all sinners, and deserve damnation. God sent His Son into the world. If we believe in Him we shall be saved; if not, we shall be lost. There is no mystery in that; everybody can understand it; and people are never weary of hearing the old old gospel.” Mr. Thomas was well contented with himself, as we have said, when he knocked at Zachariah’s door. It was opened by Pauline. He took off his hat and smiled. “My name is Broad. I come from Cowfold, and know the Allens very well. I am now living in London, and having heard of you so often, I thought I should like to call.” “Pray come in,” she said; “I am very glad to see you. I wish my father were here.” He was shown into the little front room, and after some inquiries about his relations Pauline asked him where was his abode in London. “At the Independent College. I am studying for the ministry.” Pauline was not quite sure what “the ministry” meant; but as Mr. Thomas had yesterday’s white tie round his neck—he always “dirtied out” the Sunday’s neckerchief on Monday, and wore a black one on the other week-days—she guessed his occupation. “Dear me! you must be tired with walking so far.” “Oh no, not tired with walking; but the fact is I am a little Mondayish.” “A little what?” Mr. Thomas giggled a little. “Ah, you young ladies, of course, don’t know what that means. I had to conduct a service in the country yesterday, and am rather fatigued. I am generally so on Mondays, and I always relax on that day.” This, it is to be remembered, was his first Monday. Pauline regretted very much that she had no wine in the house; neither had they any beer. They were not total abstainers, but nothing of the kind was kept in their small store-closet. “Oh, thank you; never mind.” He took a bottle of smelling-salts from the mantelpiece and smelt it. The conversation flagged a little. Pauline sat at the window, and Mr. Thomas at the table. At last he observed. “Are you alone all day?” “Generally, except on Sunday. Father does not get home till late.” “Dear me! And you are not dull nor afraid?” “Dull or afraid! Why?”