Directly after the entrance of the minister and deacon, came two females, one a tall, spare women, with thin features, very pale, and bespeaking continued but meekly-endured suffering. There was a beautiful and Quakerlike simplicity in the book muslin kerchief folded over the bosom of her black silk dress, with the corners drawn under the riband strings in front, and pinned smoothly to the dress behind. Her grey hair was parted neatly under the black straw bonnet, and those who knew her, remarked that it had gained much of its silver since she had last entered that door. In her arms the matron bore a rosy infant, robed in a long white frock, and an embroidered cap. A faint color broke into her sallow cheek, for though she did not look up, it seemed to her as if every eye in that assembly was turned upon her burthen. They were all her neighbors, many of them kind and truthful friends, who had knelt at the same communion-table with her for years. Yet she could not meet their eyes, nor force that tinge of shame from her pure cheek, but moved humbly forward, weighed to the dust with a sense of humiliation and suffering. A slight, fair creature walked by her side, partly shrinking behind her all the way, pale and drooping like a crushed lily. It was the deacon's daughter, and the babe was hers; but she was unmarried: A black dress and plain white vandike supplanted the muslin that, in the day of her innocence, had harmonized so sweetly with her pure complexion. The close straw bonnet was the same, but its trimming of pale blue was displaced by a white satin riband, while the rich and abundant brown curls that had formerly drooped over her neck were gathered up, and parted plainly over her forehead. One look she cast upon the congregation, then her eyes fell, the long lashes drooped to her burning cheek, and with a downcast brow she followed her mother to a seat, but not that occupied by the old deacon. There was a slight bustle when she entered, and many eyes were bent on her, a few from curiosity, more from an impulse of commiseration. She sat motionless in a corner of a pew, her head dropping forward, and her eyes fixed on the small hands that lay clasped in her lap. After the little party was settled, a stillness crept over the house; you might have heard a pin drop, or the rustle of a silk dress, to All at once there arose a noise the extremity of that large room. at the door opposite the pulpit; it was but a footstep ringing on the threshold stone, and yet the people turned their heads and looked startled, as if something uncommon were about to happen. It was only a handsome, boldlooking young man, who walked up the aisle with a haughty step, and entered a pew on the opposite side from that occupied by the mother and daughter, and somewhat nearer the pulpit. A battery of glances was levelled on him from the galleries, but he looked carelessly up and even smiled when a young girl by whom he seated himself, drew back with a look of indignation to the farthest corner of the pew. The old deacon looked up as those bold footsteps broke the stillness; his thin cheek and lips became deathly white, he grasped the railing convulsively

half rose, and then fell forward with his face on his hands, and remained motionless as before. Well might the wronged old man yield, for a moment, to the infirmities of human nature, even in the house of God. That bold man who thus audaciously intruded into his presence, had crept like a serpent to his hearthstone-had made his honest name a bye-word, and his daughter, the child of his old age, a creature for men to bandy jest about. But for him, that girl, now shrinking from the gaze of her own friends, would have remained the pride of his home, a ewe lamb in the church of God. Through his wiles she had fallen from the high place of her religious trust, and now, in the fulness of her penitence, she had come forward to confess her fault, and receive forgiveness of the church it had disgraced.

The old deacon had lost his children one by one, 'till this gentle girl alone was left to him; he had folded a love for her, his latest born, in his innermost heart, 'till all unconsciously she had become to it an idol. The old man thought it was to punish him that God had permitted her to sink into a temptation; he said so, beseechingly, to the elders of the church, when, at her request, he called them together, and made known her disgrace. He tried to take some of the blame upon himself; said that he had, perhaps, been less indulgent than he should have been, and so her affections had been more easily won from her home and duty-that he feared he had been a proud man-spiritually proud, but now he was more humble, and if his Heavenly Father had allowed these things in order to chasten him, the end had been obtained; he was a stricken old man, but could say, "The will of God be done." Therefore he besought his brethren not to cast her forth to her disgrace, but to accept her confession of error and repentance; to be merciful and receive her back to the church. He went on to say how humbly she had crept to his feet, and prayed him to forgive her; how his wife had spent night after night in prayer for her fallen child, and so he left her in their hands, only entreating that they would deal mercifully by her, and he would bless them for it.

Willingly would the sympathizing elders have received the stray lamb again, without further humiliation to the broken-hearted old man; but it could not be. The ungodly were willing to visit the sins of individuals on a whole community. The purity of their church must be preserved-the penance exacted.

From the time of that church-meeting, the poor father bent him. self earnestly to the strengthening of his child's good purposes. He made no complaint, and strove to appear-nay, to be-resigned and cheerful; he still continued to perform the office of deacon, though the erect gait and somewhat dignified consciousness of worth that formerly distinguished him, had utterly disappeared. On each succeeding Sabbath, his brethren observed some new prostration of strength. Day by day his cheek grew thin-his voice hollow, and his step more and more feeble. It was a piteous sight -a man who had been remarkable for bearing his years so bravely,

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ogh the aisles of that old meeting-house with downand shoulders stooping as beneath a burthen. At last the grief began to wither up the memory of that good man. test indications of this appeared, the hearts of his brethren ward the poor deacon with a united feeling of deep com

The day of Julia's humiliation had been appointed, Sabbath which preceded it, was a sacramental one. The was getting very decrepit, and his friends would have him from performing the duties of the day. He shook remarked that they were very kind, but he was not ill, ee him bear the silver cup filled with consecrated wine, as

me for twenty years before, though many an eye filled as as it marked the continued trembling of that hand, which han once caused the cup to shake, and the wine to run down on the floor. There was an absent smile upon his face we came to his daughter's seat. On finding it empty he wildered, and looked helplessly round upon the congrega he would have inquired why she was not there. SudPe seemed to recollect: a mortal paleness overspread his The wine-cup dropped from his hand, and he was led away, ke a child.

darr of his brethren visited the afflicted man during the next They always found him in his orchard, wandering about the heavy boughs and picking up the withered green apples wart the worms had eaten away from their unripe stems. These digently hoarded away near a large sweet briar-bush which a corner of the rail fence. On the next sabbath he ap

in the meeting-house, accompanied by a minister as we e described, to be outraged in the very house of God by the ce of the man who had desolated his home. It is little wer, that even there, his just wrath was, for a moment kindled. service began, and that erring girl listened to it as one in a

Her heart seemed in a painful sleep; but when the minister

her, a She s of her position came over her. She cast a frightened look sed his bible, and sat down, the stillness made her start. A keen and he pulpit, and then sunk back pale and nervous, her trembling wandering in search of her mother's. The old lady looked with fond grief, whispered soothing words, and tenderly he little hand that so imploringly besought her pity. Still irl trembled, and shrunk in her seat as if she would have from every human eye.

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as if she wondered what it could all be about.
pressed a hand over her eyes, and seemed
⚫ more strength.

The minister descended from the pulpit, for there was yet to be another ceremony; a baptism of the infant. That gentle, erring girl was to go up alone with the child of her shame, that it might be dedicated to God before the congregation. She arose with touching calmness, took the babe from her mother's arms, and stepped into the aisle. She wavered at first, and a keen sense of shame dyed her face, neck and very hands, with a painful flush of crimson, but as she passed the pew where young Lee was sitting, an expression of proud anguish came to her face, her eyes filled with tears, and she walked steadily forward to the communion-table, in front of her father's seat. There was not a tearless eye in that whole congregation. Aged, stern men, bowed their heads to conceal the sympathy betrayed there. Young girls-careless, light-hearted creatures, who, never dreaming of the frailty of their own natures, had reviled the fallen girl, now wept and sobbed to see her thus publicly humbled. Young Lee became powerfully agitated; his breast heaved, his face flushed hotly, then turned very pale, and at last he started up, flung open the pew door, and hurried up the aisle with a disordered and unequal step.

"What name?" inquired the pastor, bending toward the young mother, as he took the child from her arms.

Before she had time to speak, Lee stood by her side, and answered in a loud, steady voice, "That of his father, James Lee!" The trembling of that poor girl's frame was visible through the whole house, her hand dropped on the table, and she leaned heavily on it for support, but did not look up. The minister dipped his hand in the antique China bowl, laid it upon the babe's forehead, and, in a clear voice pronounced the name. A faint cry broke from the child as the cold drops fell on his face. The sound seemed to arouse all the hitherto unknown and mysterious feelings of paternity slumbering in the young father's heart. His eye kindled, his cheek glowed, and impulsively he extended his arms and received the infant. His broad chest heaved beneath its tiny form, and his eyes seemed fascinated by the deep blue orbs which the little creature raised smilingly and full of wonder to his face. Lee bore his son down the aisle, laid him gently in his astonished grandmother's lap, and returned to the pulpit again. Julia still had moved a little, and overcome with agitation, leaned heavily against the railing of the pulpit-stairs. Lee bent his head, and whispered a few earnest words, and held forth his hand. She ⚫ stood, for a moment, like one bewildered, gave a doubtful, troubled look into his eyes, and laid her hand in his. He drew her gently to the table, and in a firm, respectful voice, requested the minister to commence the marriage service.

The pastor looked puzzled and irresolute. The whole proceeding was so unexpected and strange, that even he lost all presence of mind. "A publishment is necessary to our laws," he said, at length, casting a look on the deacon, but the old man remained motionless, with his hands clasped over the railing, and his face

moveing through the aisles of that old meeting-house with downcast eyes, and shoulders stooping as beneath a burthen. At last the mildew of grief began to wither up the memory of that good man. When the first indications of this'appeared, the hearts of his brethren yearned toward the poor deacon with a united feeling of deep com miseration. The day of Julia's humiliation had been appointed, and the Sabbath which preceded it, was a sacramental one. The old deacon was getting very decrepit, and his friends would have persuaded him from performing the duties of the day. He shook his head, remarked that they were very kind, but he was not ill, so they let him bear the silver cup filled with consecrated wine, as he had done for twenty years before, though many an eye filled with tears as it marked the continued trembling of that hand, which more than once caused the cup to shake, and the wine to run down its sides on the floor. There was an absent smile upon his face when he came to his daughter's seat. On finding it empty he stood bewildered, and looked helplessly round upon the congregation, as if he would have inquired why she was not there. Suddenly he seemed to recollect: a mortal paleness overspread his face. The wine-cup dropped from his hand, and he was led away, crying like a child.

Many of his brethren visited the afflicted man during the next week. They always found him in his orchard, wandering about under the heavy boughs and picking up the withered green apples which the worms had eaten away from their unripe stems. These he diligently hoarded away near a large sweet briar-bush which grew in a corner of the rail fence. On the next sabbath he appeared in the meeting-house, accompanied by a minister as we have described, to be outraged in the very house of God by the presence of the man who had desolated his home. It is little wonder, that even there, his just wrath was, for a moment kindled. The service began, and that erring girl listened to it as one in a dream. Her heart seemed in a painful sleep; but when the minister closed his bible, and sat down, the stillness made her start. A keen sense of her position came over her. She cast a frightened look on the pulpit, and then sunk back pale and nervous, her trembling hand wandering in search of her mother's. The old lady looked on her with fond grief, whispered soothing words, and tenderly pressed the little hand that so imploringly besought her pity. Still the poor girl trembled, and shrunk in her seat as if she would have crept away from every human eye.

The minister arose, his face looked calm, but the paper which contained the young girl's confession shook violently in his hands as he unrolled it. Julia knew that it was her duty to arise. She put forth her hand, grasped the carved work of the seat, and stood upright 'till the reading was finished, staring, all the time, wildly, in the pastor's face, as if she wondered what it could all be about. She sat down again, pressed a hand over her eyes, and seemed asking God to give her more strength.