SUSAN GRAY. y

bless Susan Gray: for a time indeed did he
try her; but at length he made her who had
sown in tears reap in joy, and rewarded her
with an exceeding great reward.

James and Mary Gray had been dead about
thirteen years, when one evening, as I was
sitting by my fire with my wife and family, I
was called out to a poor woman, who kept a
very homely but reputable lodging-house in the
village. ‘1 made bold to come, Sir,” said
she, “‘ to ask you to read prayers this evening
to a poor young woman, who is, I fear, at th
point of death.” ‘

« And who,” said, I is this young woman?”

“{ know but little of her,” answered
she: *‘she came to my house fourteen days
ago; soon after that great storm of thunder
and lightning which struck the church steeple,
and blasted your great pear-tree, Sir. It was
after twelve o’clock in the night when she
knocked at the door. 1 happened to be up,
finishing some work, or I could not have let
her in.”

** And pray,” asked my wife, who had step-
ped out into the kitchen after me, “from
whence do you suppose she comes?”

«‘ Indeed,” replied the woman, “I should
think from no great distance; for, although she
had a small bundle of linen in her hand, she
had neither hat nor cloak on.”

‘T fear,” said my wife, looking at me and
shaking her head, ** that this is some unfortu-
nate young creature, who knows not the fear
of God.”