fiding Christians, and as she again folded them to her bosom, said, "You have taught me a lesson of faith, my children, which I shall never forget: we will live and die together!" "Oh, Father in heaven, I thank thee that thou hast given me such comforters in my extremity! from the lips of these sweet babes has my want of faith been reproved. Then why am I afraid? because I have not thy faith, thy confiding love, my child!" "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief," she mentally exclaimed. Grateful for kindness so unexpected, so unlooked for in a stranger, Mrs. Stanley again attempted to express her thanks. The good lady was earnest in her entreaties that she would trust the children to her care until after the siege was raised. "It will go hard," said the generous stranger, "if I do not obtain some means of finding out where thou art, and restoring thy children to thee." A hasty summons to the wagon called this kind benevolent woman away. She saw Mrs. Stanley was firm, and ceased her importunity; they parted—and never met again.

CHAPTER X.

MRS. STANLEY trembled for the effects of this confusion upon her husband, although he manifested no consciousness that any thing unusual was going on. When his wife asked him a question relating to any of his little comforts, he would languidly open his eyes, and reply in a monosyllable so faintly, that she

was obliged to put her ear down close to his face to understand him; yet she knew his mind no longer wandered. She trembled also for the fate of her little ones, although Louisa's artless reproof constantly dwelt upon her mind, and she repeatedly said to herself, "yes, God is everywhere! and he will protect the lowest of his creatures:" yet she often had cause to apply that exclamation of our Saviour to herself"Oh ye of little faith!" Her dread of the savages was great, and when she thought of the tomahawk and scalping-knife, the cold perspiration would stand upon her brow, and she would tremble as if in an ague-fit.

The kind Quakeress, at whose house Mrs. Stanley was now staying, had often told her that no emergency would induce her to leave home; conceive then, the surprise of the poor distressed lady, when Mrs. G― came into her room with her bonnet and gloves on. "Well, friend Margaret," said she, "shall I bid David get thy horse and wagon for thee?" "Madam!" said Mrs. Stanley, in perfect amazement. She repeated the question. Mrs. Stanley said, "by no means, madam!" The good woman proceeded: "Margaret, thou must fly with thy neighbours, and take thy children; what will become of thee, if on finding thyself unprotected, the soldiers should insult thee, or if the Indians should come, as we expect?" "Madam, look there!" said the astonished Mrs. Stanley, casting at the same time a look of anguish on the bed, where her apparently dying husband was lying. "Yes-yes, it's bad enough; but David will be here; he will give him drink, and a spoonful of nourishment now and then, and it may be, we shall come back to

morrow." Mrs. Stanley was silent, and Mrs. Gprobably thought she was deliberating, and proceeded: "would'st thou bear to see these children murdered and mangled before thine eyes?" The poor little things looked pale with terror, and clung close to their mother. Mrs. Stanley felt it was time to put an end to this scene, and rising from her seat, said in as firm a voice as she could command, "I cannot go, madam." "But thou wilt listen to reason, Margaret; true, it is hard to leave thy husband, but what canst thou do here alone?" "I will appeal to the humanity of the British officers; they will shield me from insult; they are, or ought to be gentlemen; they surely will grant me the protection which no man of honour can refuse to a helpless female!" "Margaret, I fear thou art trusting to poor security; do, I beg of thee, go!" "Entreat me not! there is my answer, madam," said she rising and pointing to her husband; "I cannot go! God has left me no choice, and He will protect me!" Mrs. G― extended her hand, and Mrs. Stanley saw the trembling in her eye. "Well, if thou wilt not be persuaded for thy own good, I must bid thee farewell, and may God help thee!" The good man, who had been a silent listener to what had passed, now stepped forward, and said, "Fare thee well thou lonely one, and may God indeed help thee. I fear thou wilt greatly need it:" and shaking her hand affectionately, they left the room. In a moment more little Charles was at the window, watching the progress of the receding wagon, which was taking away uncle and aunty G, as he always called them.

Mrs. Stanley had made great exertions to maintain her composure during this dialogue, while the pale

and agitated faces of the children added to her distress. The struggle over, she sank on a chair exhausted and covered her face with her hands to conceal the tears which were streaming down her pale and grief-worn face; Anna and Louisa knelt by her side; Louisa's head resting on her lap while Charles continued at the window to see the bonny horses go, child-like, forgetting in the raree-show, his own individual sorrows.

Mrs. Stanley spoke to her husband; he seemed sensible of her attentions, but too weak to open his eyes: she put a tea-spoonful of beef-tea into his mouth, which revived him, and he faintly said, "Margaret, I am a very sick man!" The sound of his voice thrilled through her heart-she had so long listened to the ravings of delirium, or watched over him as one, the sound of whose voice was for ever hushed in this world, that every accent, though feeble as the wailings of a new-born infant, fell like soft music over her soul. He was certainly better, she was sure of it. Hope now filled her heart; her husband was saved.

Although since nine o'clock there had been one incessant explosion of cannon from the fort and fleet, he had taken no notice of it; but now as the sound reverberated from the hills, and the echoes rolled along, he opened his eyes and looked wildly around as if for the first time conscious that something unusual was taking place. The carriages and wagons drove rapidly on towards Hallock's Hill. When Mrs. Stanley saw the last wagon, which contained her kind landlady, drive away, she did indeed feel that she was alone. The air seemed heavy with smoke, and the constant bombardment which had been kept up two

long hours, left a tenfold impression of awe and solemnity upon her mind, as the noise of the wagons and the hum of voices ceased. She had often tried to ascertain whether Dr. Stanley was conscious of the events which were going on, and sometimes thought he was, but that his extreme debility prevented a manifestation of his feelings. She had not however, been able to satisfy herself on the subject until within a few minutes; she was now convinced. But oh! he was so feeble it would require months of unceasing care to restore him, if he ever did recover.

I will not attempt to describe the feelings of that young and delicate woman, surrounded by her three infant children and sick husband, every moment expecting the entrance of a hostile army; she, the only female left in the place, except little Polly; every possible insult and degradation to which she might be exposed had been set in frightful array before hertimid to excess by nature, she seemed to be sustained by some invisible power: her mind was more composed than it had been at any former period since their flight from Plattsburgh. Anna's remark, "Mamma, God is here," followed by Louisa's question, "Mamma, if God is here, why are you afraid?" was ever present to her mind. And had she not, above all women, reason to bless God for the manifestations of his protecting care? Had she not been within the last few months supported under trials that would have crushed almost any other woman; and she the weakest, the most sensitive, and most feeble of human beings? At times when reflecting upon her various dangers and escapes, in her enthusiasm she had almost fancied she saw the arm of the Almighty stretched out to save