that I never hesitated; it did not seem a possible thing to me that I should assist this man in hiding his stolen goods. I am certain that I should have rather died.

I cannot think now how it was that I felt so calm and so strong. I collected together a small bundle of clothes, and tried to wrap up my baby so that the cold air should not come to her; it seemed as if I could hear my conscience say, "Be not afraid;" I felt as if I was not alone.

I left the house, determining to go from door to door till I found some one to take me in. I was refused admittance at two or three; and then I remembered a poor widow who had sent me broth when I was sick, and I went to her. It was hardly daylight when I knocked; there was a driving sleet, but my heart did not fail me, my God did not forsake me.

It was some time before the good woman came down; I had taken my own cloak to cover my dear baby, and I was wet to the skin, and had such an ague fit from cold that I could hardly speak to beg shelter for heaven's sake.

She took me in, she made a fire, and got me something hot to drink; she took my child, and dried and warmed it, and put her and me to bed.

I found that the fever I had just been cured of was returning; the cold and wet was too much for my strength; I thought I might die, and I told the kind widow my story, and the name of the clergyman with whom I had lived in the country, and begged her if I should grow worse to send for him, for I knew he would be my friend. It was fortunate I did, for I grew ill very fast; I had a high fever, and did not know afterwards what I said.

She sent for him. He came and told her that all I said was true; he got me a nurse and physician, and gave the poor widow money for me, and said he would pay all my expenses, and thanked her as much, she told me afterwards, for her care of me as if I had been his own child.

After the fever left me, a severe rheumatism settled in my back, which I had strained in lifting my husband. I have never since been able to stand upright. But O, this was nothing to what I suffered when they told me, when I was well enough to bear to hear it, they told me that my baby, my little daughter,—I cannot bear now to think of it,—she took cold too, and then the weaning her, and all, it was too much for the little thing; my child went to God who gave it.

It seemed at first as if I should die; then I remembered that if I had done as that wicked man wanted me to do, I should have perhaps been well, my baby alive and well, and all might have seemed prosperous; and did I regret that I had not saved her life and my own health by acting against my conscience? no, not for a moment. I had no longer a kind husband, I had lost my only child and my health; and yet the light of God's blessing has ever been in my heart; when I think of all my trials, and remember that I have kept a conscience void of offence, O, I cannot tell you what peaceful thoughts I have, what a strange joy I sometimes experience.

My kind friend, the minister, had me removed as soon as I was well enough to his house, and got me this little room in the neighborhood, where I have taken in sewing work, and have ever since got a very good living.

When I inquired about my landlord, I found that the officers came that morning, found the stolen goods, and carried him to prison. My friend went to see him, and told him from me that as soon as I could earn the money, I would pay him what I owed him. This I did with the very first money I received. I went to see him, and took the rent to him myself. He did not know me, the stoop had changed me so much.

Certainly, ladies, she added, I have met with what are called great misfortunes; I have lost all that I loved best on earth, and I am a cripple for life; but I still rejoice to think that my mother's prayer has been heard for me; through the blessing of God I have been saved from the evil that there is in the world, for I have ever had the testimony of a good conscience.

The sun was setting before the old lady had finished her story; its slanting beams streamed in through the narrow window, and fell on the gray locks that were parted neatly on her forehead, and on her bright, calm, uplifted eye, and gave a glow of youthful enthusiasm and celestial brightness to her face.