But it is thy mother's fad,

have more stings than honey for me. and I'm never one to gainsay her.'

'Then what shall I do, father?' asked Dinah.

'I'll get a pot ready, and you'd best send over for Amos Ridley if the swarm settles; he always brings good luck to all he puts his hand to,' added the farmer as he turned away.

Now Amos Ridley was the son of the village blacksmith; and at the mention of his name, old Mrs. Yeatman looked up from her knitting at Dinah, and as the young girl caught her quick, shrewd glance, a slight flush overspread her face. But it was only for a moment, and by the time she had stooped to rescue the ball of yarn from the kitten and had carefully re-wound it, she was quite herself again. Then she put on her white sun-bonnet, and took up her own work from the table.

'Art thee going now, Dinah ?' asked the old lady. ‘I be halfminded to go with thee, and sit a bit in the sun.' 'Yes, sure; do come!' cried the girl eagerly. 'I'll get thee a hood and shawl, and lift a bench close under the hedge, safe out of the way of the bees.'

With Dinah's help she was soon ready, and together they went out through the porch, almost hidden with honeysuckle; out into the trim, old-fashioned garden, full of tall stocks and pansies and gillyflowers, and all the fragrant multitude of spring flowers. They were a striking contrast, those two. The fair young girl, full of life and health, all radiant with the bright hopes of seventeen summers; and the old grandmother, whose withered face was wrinkled with so many lines of care and outlived trouble, while her feeble steps and bent form told of age and infirmity. And yet a close observer might have traced a curious likeness between the two women; the one so full of eager expectation and joyful hope of all that life might have to bring her, the other whose story was almost told, and who was but calmly waiting for the end. With what startled incredulity would Dinah Yeatman have heard that her fresh young face was but, as it were, a new edition of that which those worn and faded features had once been!

But it was indeed true; and, strangely enough, it was some such thought as this which was passing through the elder woman's mind at that moment, although in her narrow compass of words she would possibly have had no means of expressing what she felt. Still it was with no feeling of envy or regret that she looked at Dinah's soft prettiness, but rather it was with tender pride in her own, her only grandchild. The memories of the past seemed to crowd round her that morning, as she sat watching the bees in the sunshine, and listening to their busy hum. Or perhaps it may have been the fragrance of the hawthorns overhead, which brought back so vividly the remembrance of just such another spring day in her far-off youth. Suddenly she was roused from her dreams by Dinah's voice.

'Do you think father would take me in to Mere market to-morrow with him?' she asked, and looked up eagerly for the answer.

But this was slow in coming, for old Mrs. Yeatman was long past the age when we should expect anything rash or hasty, either in word or deed.

'Don't'ee think now that he might?' repeated the girl, after a few minutes' silence. It's ever so long since I've been anigh Mere, and now here be the summer coming, and I've not so much as a new ribbon to wear. There's Aunt Emma, too, she do always want for me to go and see her, and she'll be mighty vexed to think I've forgotten her.' She's no call to think that, Dinah, when never a market-day

comes but thee sends a bunch of flowers in her basket of eggs and butter. But, child, if thy heart be set on it, I don't see but thee might ask mother to spare thee,' replied the old lady in a calm, considering tone.

You

Nay, granny, that's no good,' cried Dinah, impetuously. know mother can never spare me. There be always something about: if it isn't the dairy and the cheese, it's sure to be house-cleaning, or washing maybe, or mending, to fill up the odd minutes.'

Eh, surely thee'd never blame thy mother for that? The days be scarce long enough, and the work must be done.'

The words sounded harsh, but they were spoken in a pitying tone, for the grandmother's thoughts wandered far back, across the dreary expanse of busy middle life, with its crowding cares and bustling restlessness, away to the far-off days when she, too, was young, and had keenly enjoyed those holidays which were wont to come, like angels' visits, so few and far between. She could sympathise with the girl's desire, and yet she was completely conquered by that stern sense of fate, the creed of a life-time, that the work must be done.

But Dinah herself had not yet grown to that calm, patient submission. The tingling life-blood within her rebelled against this constant weary round of home duties, and she longed for some change anything to break the daily monotony. The young girl had a dim instinct that the old grandmother was more likely to take her part than was her active, energetic mother, who never felt the want of a holiday herself, or knew what it was to be weary of her domestic cares.

Don't you think now, if you were to say a word to father, he might take me, just his once?' she persisted, looking up anxiously at her companion.

There was silence for a few minutes, but Dinah was accustomed to such pauses, and waited as patiently as she could. And she had her reward, for presently the old lady turned to her with a

smile.

'I'm thinking, child, that I'll be wanting some more of that blue yarn from old Mrs. Dyce in the Market-Place, for all mine be wellnigh finished. 'Twas but last night, too, that I broke one of my long needles, and your father would make but a poor hand of matching it for me. So I do want thee to go shopping for me.'

At these words Dinah started up quickly, and bent forward to kiss the kind, gentle face of old Mrs. Yeatman.

'You're a dear, good granny!' she cried. I knew you would help me.'

The girl had been so full of her own thoughts and plans that she had forgotten all about the bees; but when she looked again in the direction of the hives the air was thick with a busy multitude, who seemed to be all on the wing, flying hither and thither in a state of the wildest excitement.

'Look! they're swarming!' cried Dinah. And without a moment's delay she ran indoors to fetch the traditional key and frying-pan, whose horrid clatter was supposed to have a soothing influence upon the bees, and determine them to settle near home. As it had never occurred to the country girl to doubt that, or anything else that she had been told, she hammered away vigorously, in calm confidence as to the result; and presently the bees, who had probably made up their minds on the subject long before, gradually settled in a great cluster on the overhanging bough of an apple-tree.

Run, Dinah, quick!' exclaimed old Mrs. Yeatman, who fully enjoyed the excitement of the scene. Fetch Amos Ridley, and get

him to take the swarm for thee at once.'

The girl's first impulse was to do as she was told, without pausing to think. With a light quick step she crossed the garden, and hastened down the narrow shady lane, which was the shortest way to the village. She had reached the corner, and was already in sight of the blacksmith's forge, when she stayed a moment to take breath, and a sudden fit of shyness came over her. Why had she so thoughtlessly come upon this errand herself? Why had she not sent the cowboy, Joel, or even got her father himself to come?

It was not that she feared there would be any difficulty in persuading Amos to grant her request. Oh, no; she knew only too well with what haste and eagerness he would throw down his tools and leave his work to do anything for her. And it was precisely this feeling which made Dinah pause and hesitate as she drew near the forge, where the resounding strokes of the hammer, with their strong, measured sound told her that the young blacksmith was at work. Yet Amos Ridley was no stranger to her. He had been her companion all her life; they had grown up together, met daily at the village school for years, and in all the little troubles of her childhood he had always been her friend and protector. It was only of late that she had been dimly conscious of a change, which she scarcely owned even to herself. But it was too late now to draw back; something must be done at once, and at this moment it happened that the door of the cottage next to the forge was opened sharply, and a girl came out.

How lucky!' thought Dinah. she will go and fetch her brother.'

Now I can speak to Lizzie and

(To be continued.)

FACTS FOR THE YOUNG.

'A Penny saved is a Penny gained?' What a motive for Temperance! NE shilling a-week-not a very large sum, only twopence aday, without Sunday. Take the money regularly to the savings' bank, and in ten years you will have saved 301. Many a mechanic earning twenty-five or thirty shillings a-week can readily save five. Put five shillings a-week in the savings' bank from the time you are twenty years of age till you are fifty, and you will have saved 6261.

If a young man of eighteen saves two shillings per week, he will be worth at sixty years of age the sum of 400%.

The following table will show the very important results that follow upon small savings:-

TUESDAY-CHARITY.

I devote my love to Thee alone;

May my heart, O God, be Thy lowly throne;

May I love all men for love of Thee;

May my life proclaim that Thou lovest me.

WEDNESDAY-SORROW FOR SIN.

I have sinned, O God-Thy power defied;

I have grieved Thy love, and Thy patience tried: My ungrateful life I now deplore,

And I firmly purpose to sin no more.

THURSDAY THANKSGIVING.

I give thanks, O God, and worship Thee,
For the care and blessings bestowed on me;
For the grace and comfort ever nigh,

For the help to bring me to Heaven on high.

FRIDAY-SELF-DENIAL.

By the love, O Jesu, of Thy Cross,

I will live; and, counting all else but loss,
For the love of Thee my cross will bear,
And will follow Thee till the crown I wear.

SATURDAY-OFFERING OF MYSELF.

O my God, myself to Thee I give,
And for Thee alone I desire to live;

O receive me, Lord, and make me Thine,
Come and dwell within me, for ever mine.

ALL THE WEEK.

To holiness my life I give;
The powers of sin defy;

I love the faith by which I live,
And in that faith will die,