THE GUIDE.

BY MISS LOUISE OLIVIA HUNTER.

"IT will be a fearful night," exclaimed Mrs. Hoffman, as she looked forth from her cottage casement upon the wintry scene without," the snow is deeper now than I ever knew it to be so early in the season; and from the appearance of the sky, I dc really believe that we shall have another storm ere the dawn of to-morrow morning." And for some moments she stood by the window watching the threatening clouds, when suddenly her attention was attracted by a dark object upon the road before her. Nearer and nearer it approached-it had reached the half-way stone-and then, through the gathering darkness, Mrs. Hoffman distinguished the forms of two travellers—an old man, and a little girl who might have seen her thirteenth year. They came forward with slow and languid steps, though the bitter searching wind whistled hoarsely around them. The old man's arm was cast about the neck of his young companion, and he leaned heavily upon her, while in his other hand he grasped a staff, which had doubtless been his chief support, till his fingers grew so numb with cold that they were hardly able to retain it. The child seemed urging him onward, and it was

evidently with great difficulty that he obeyed her entreaties. Nearer and nearer they came and just as they reached Mrs. Hoffman's gate, the good lady herself came hurrying through the doorway, her sympathies completely enlisted in behalf of the wanderers, to invite them to rest a while in her cottage.

A momentary smile flitted across the sad yet lovely counte nance of the little girl as she expressed her thanks for this unlooked-for kindness. She said that the old man, her grandfather, was blind; that they had travelled many miles that day, and that he now felt very weary and faint-and she asked if they might not be allowed a place of repose for the night at the cottage. Mrs. Hoffman gazed into the thin pale face of the old man, and marked his faltering gait, as, still supported by his little guide, they entered her dwelling, and she felt that it would be cruel to deny the petition.

In a few seconds more, the strangers were stationed at her comfortable fireside-and she had left them for the purpose of going into an adjoining room to provide some refreshments, when a shriek from the little girl brought her quickly back to the apartment she had just quitted. The old man had fallen from the easy chair where his grandchild had seated him, and was now lying upon the floor senseless. The girl was bending over him with looks of the most poignant anguish, and hastening to her assistance, Mrs. Hoffman immediately administered the requisite restoratives, while at the same time she strove to console the mourning child with the information that her grandfather had merely swooned, and was not dead, as she seemed to suppose. Her

efforts to reanimate him were at length rewarded. He unclosed his eyes for a moment, but soon sank into a sort of stupor. Summoning from the kitchen her servant, Hannah, who looked enough amazed at the strange scene before her, Mrs. Hoffman desired her aid in supporting the old man to the nearest couch. Hannah was next requested to order one of the men to go for the physician, and the little girl, who had been greatly alarmed at her grandfather's insensibility to her pleadings-that he would speak one word-just one word to her-was somewhat comforted by her kind hostess's assurance, that the object of her solicitude should have every attention bestowed upon him, and that she had no doubt but he would soon be well enough to converse. But when the doctor came, he delivered a different opinion. His patient, he declared, was in a dangerous condition: the fatigue he had undergone having utterly exhausted his feeble energies, and it was doubtful whether he would last many hours longer.

During the remainder of the day, and for the whole of that night, Mrs. Hoffman watched by the bedside of the suffering stranger. The child, who had heard her grandsire's doom pronounced by the physician, refused to go to rest, but sat near his couch, clasping his wan hand, and at times weeping convulsively. Meantime, she had given a brief sketch of her former history. She was born in a pleasant village in England, she said, and her name was Annie Lisle. Her father, who had lived in America for several years, had about three months previously written for his child and his aged parent, to come and share his home, telling them that bright prospects had at last dawned upon him, and that he

could now support them both in ease and comfort. Obedient to this summons, they journeyed to America-but as they landed upon the shores of the New World, they were met by the intelli gence, that he for whose sake they had crossed the wide Atlantic, was no more! He had perished of a malignant fever but a few days before their arrival, and their informant said that he died impoverished, a sudden misfortune having blighted the sunny hopes he had cherished.

The unexpected news of his son's death gave so severe a shock to the parent, who had thought very soon to clasp him once more in his arms, that for weeks afterwards it was believed that each day would be his last. And when at length he grew better, he had become totally blind!

In the mean time, the little money he had possessed was exhausted; and when the old man was able to leave the roof that through pity had been allowed him till his recovery, he went forth with his fair young grandchild as a homeless wanderer. Annie said that her grandfather had changed greatly since his illness. He was always gentle and loving to her, but he did not talk as he used to do. His ideas of places and things seemed confused; he often said that he wished to get back to his old home in England, and appeared to think that by roving from village to village, he would arrive at last at the scene of his early days. Alas! he had forgotten that the blue ocean rolled between his childhood's home and the land he trod. But Annie remembered it, though she humored his fancy; and they subsisted daily upon charity-while as day after day the old man wended his

way onward, guided by the hand of his patient and affectionate grandchild, his heart was buoyed up with the hope that each step drew him closer to his home. To his home! Yes-and as he now once more lay upon the bed of sickness, he was nearer the wished-for goal than he had ever been before. But it was not Annie's hand that should lead him to that blissful haven ;-angelguides were now hovering around his couch, anxiously awaiting the moment when his spirit should leave its tenement of clay, and they should bear it in triumph to the eternal mansion of the Heavenly Father.

The thought of being left alone and friendless in a strange land, was a terrible one to little Annie. And as she lamented the approaching dissolution of her aged relative, obeying the impulses of her heart, Mrs. Hoffman cast her arms about the sobbing child, and drawing her softly towards her, assured her that while she lived she would never forsake her. "I, too, have been very lonely, Annie," she said, "for in the quiet graveyard now rest the forms of those who once gladdened my heart. But henceforth you shall supply their place, and I will be a mother to you until the hour when I am called to join the loved and lost in the fair clime to which your grand-parent is now hastening."

The prediction of the physician was verified. When the light of the succeeding morning shone through that chamber window, it beamed upon the face of the dead! The wayworn wan

derer had indeed gone home!

From the day of the grandfather's peaceful departure, Mrs.