extravagant when it gratified his taste or pleasure to spend money. He was also sometimes very careless and negligent in his accounts, and deficient in punctuality. For all which reasons, it was not very easy to make out the motives of his conduct: the results of it were one and the same to us, whatever his motives might be.

I caused an exact statement of his accounts to be made out, which I afterwards put into Mrs. Butler's hands, in case she should hear of anything to be added to it. She also procured an inventory to be made of the little property he left behind him; and all this was done before it was possible anything could be heard from John Paterson in reply to his sister's letter.

Mr. Price quite entered into my feelings, that the less said about James the better.

Jabez Reynolds was put a second time into the place of James; and some straight-forward Protestant took the place of O'Grady.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PEACE-MAKER.

It is pleasant, especially in scenes of discord and trouble, to trace the providential dealings of our heavenly Father in his works of mercy.

I have mentioned that Mr. and Mrs. Williams were in my house when my nephew first broke to me the account of James Paterson's departure for America. Of all persons I have ever known I have seldom seen one of more gentle and sympathetic feelings than Mrs. Williams. She was not a woman of penetration-not adapted for reproof or the exercise of strict control; but she was, beyond all others, a peace-maker. It seemed her appointment to bear about balm to heal the wounds of those sick of sin and sorrow, in the same spirit which is attributed to the clergy, whose office, it has been well said, is to drop oil into the machinery of human life. She would never faint or be weary of her gentle, comforting duties, though otherwise exceedingly timid and fearful of encountering opposition.

The tale she had heard in my house of Sophy's state of health and mind had exceedingly affected her, and finding it confirmed by various reports, and, among others, by Mr. Hill's, (for Sophia had positively refused to see him when he made his way to the house of mourning,) she formed a resolution which, after much prayer, she took the very first opportunity of executing, and the particulars of which I received from Frederick Williams himself.

As soon as her duties were over with the scholars, on the second day after the departure of James Paterson, she made a basin of her nicest arrow-root, and preparing herself in her usual neat evening-dress, she set out for the Widow Paterson's, and gently knocked at the door, to excite no alarm. Clara opened the door for her, and when she heard her errand, Clara said, "I fear my poor sister will not see you; she will scarcely speak to me."

Ah," said Mrs. Williams, "she feels, perhaps, that she has been unkind to you, but she cannot feel that by me; take me into her room, and who knows but that God may bless the poor means I use?"

"I will be no hindrance to any thing you wish to do, I am sure," returned Clara; "though, perhaps, she may be very angry with me for introducing a stranger. Follow me gently up

stairs."

Mrs. Williams obeyed. Sophia was lying upon

the bed, her handkerchief thrown over her eyes, and an open book by her side.

"I think she is asleep," said Clara, “and if you like to wait for her awakening, I will leave you here by yourself."

Mrs. Williams consented, and Clara went down. Whether or no Sophia was asleep, or whether she thought that her sister was still in the room, did not appear, but she lay some minutes longer without taking any notice of what was going on. There was a small shelf beside the chair where Mrs. Williams was sitting, and, forced in among other books, stood Sophy's Bible. Mrs. Williams took it down, and perceiving its outside dusty, she sighed. She turned over the leaves, scarcely knowing what she was looking for, so much was her mind absorbed in thought; yet the leaves opening in a favourite text recalled her to herself, and gave encouragement to her: it was this; "Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there? Why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?" Shortly afterwards Sophy moved, and threw aside her handkerchief, impetuously calling Clara in a fretful tone; then, seeing Mrs. Williams, she turned her face from her, exclaiming, "O, I thought it had been Clara.'

"Dear Miss Sophy," said Mrs. Williams, rising, "I have brought you a little arrow-root; you know I am famous for making nice arrowroot, and I have been told that you scarcely

eat anything. Will you not taste my arrowroot?"

Sophy made no answer, but Mrs. Williams had crept round to the other side of the bed, and kneeling down with the basin in her hand, she gently entreated the invalid to taste her arrowroot, till at length she prevailed. Sophia raised herself up in her bed, and having once tasted the food, though at first with great appearance of disgust, she proceeded to take a little more, till she had nearly finished the whole; for true indeed it was, that since James had gone she had debarred herself of almost necessary food, some sort of feeling of pride preventing her either from asking for it, or accepting it after repeated refusals. During this time Mrs. Williams made several remarks of the most common nature, giving some short recital of unimportant events; not saying one single word which could stir up the feelings of Sophia as an unfortunate or an injured person.

After spending half-an-hour in this manner, she left her, saying, "I shall bring you some more of my cookery to-morrow, and I may, perhaps, be with you a little earlier, as it is a halfholiday."

Mrs. Williams was most thankful that Sophia expressed no dread of her returning; and the following morning she found the invalid up and in her chair, reading; her eyes, however, swelled with crying. Mrs. Williams asked no questions,