re full not only
of the goodness of God, but of the promise of his goodness. Nettie read
it, and thanked him. Yet things in the household were no better.

One evening Nettie and her mother were sitting alone together. They were
usually alone in the evenings, though not usually sitting down quietly
with no work on hand. Nettie had her Sunday-school lesson, and was busy
with that, on one side of the fire. Mrs. Mathieson on the other side sat
and watched her. After a while Nettie looked up and saw her mother's
gaze, no longer on her, fixed mournfully on the fire and looking through
that at something else. Nettie read the look, and answered it after her
own fashion. She closed her book and sang, to a very, very sweet,
plaintive air,

"I heard the voice of Jesus say,
Come unto me and rest:
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon my breast.
I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad,
I found in him a resting-place,
And he has made me glad.

"I heard the voice of Jesus say,
I am this dark world's light;
Look unto me--thy morn shall rise,
And all thy day be bright.
I looked to Jesus, and I found
In him my star, my sun;
And in that light of life I'll walk
Till travelling days are done."

She sang two verses, clear, glad, and sweet, as Nettie always sang;
then she paused and looked at her mother.

"Do you keep up hope yet, Nettie?" said Mrs. Mathieson, sadly.

"Yes, mother," Nettie said, quietly.

"Mine gets beat out sometimes," said Mrs. Mathieson, drooping her head
for an instant on her hands. "Your father's out every night now; and you
know where he goes; and he cares less and less about anything else in
the world but Jackson's store, and what he gets there, and the company
he finds there. And he don't want much of being a ruined man."

"Yes, mother. But the Bible says we must wait on the Lord."

"Wait! yes, and I've waited; and I see you growing as thin as a shadow
and as weak as a mouse; and your father don't see it; and he's let you
sleep in that cold place up there all winter just to accommodate that
Lumber!--I am sure he is well named."

"O mother, my garret is nice now,--on the warm days. You can't think how
pretty it is out of my window--prettier than any window in the house."

"Outside, I dare say. It isn't a place fit for a cat to sleep on!"

"Mother, it's a good place to me. I don't want