CHAPTER XIX.

OLD FRIENDS.

"Jesus, still lead on, Till our rest be won; Heavenly Leader, still direct us, Still support, console, protect us, Till we safely stand In our Fatherland."

SOME years have passed since Austin Warner and his fair bride set off for China, and since Lewis had returned from Sydney. And ere we part we will take a glance at our old friends.

Priscilla Warner has changed her name, and for some time has been Priscilla Lascelles, and can no longer, she smilingly declares, be called "only a girl," for she is a matronly-looking person, and the mother of two little boys. Dr. Lascelles has left the navy, and is now a hard-working, well-employed medical man in Manchester. He and his wife are well known and beloved in the houses of the poor. Priscilla's talents are by no means hidden in a napkin, and more than one young man of limited means has reason to bless the doctor's kind wife, who willingly devotes a spare hour to helping them in their mathematical studies, and by her thoughtful actions and loving words seeks to turn them from darkness and lead them into the kingdom of God.

There is no fear, her brother Lewis says, that her boys will ever have to complain of the dulness of the evenings in their home, for father and mother alike do all they can to brighten the after-dinner hours for the young ones. The blessing of God, that "maketh rich and bringeth no sorrow with it," rests on that happy home, and Harry often tells his wife that now, as in olden days, God has intrusted to her a work which angels might envy.

At the Grove there is a small home-party now—only the professor and his bonnie Ruth, as he calls her, who has ably filled her sister's place since her departure. Ruth's ambition of being a soul-gatherer is being quietly but surely fulfilled. God is using her hand to gather in one by one precious souls to his garner. She has not Priscilla's wonderful talents, but she is well read and well informed, able to enjoy the conversation of her father and friends on any subject, and take part in it intelligently. But she finds her greatest pleasure in the service of the King of kings, in whose home harvest-field she loves to labour. Hers is no idle hand. Jean M'Ivor and she go hand in hand in helping on every good work.

Then Lewis, now a professor in a college in the north of England, and a married man, comes often to the Grove to see his old father.

And Archie, who resides in London, and is getting on well, also goes from time to time to see the inmates of the Grove.

And when the hot summer days come round, and the common is carpeted with bright flowers, Priscilla and her sturdy boys are packed off by the doctor from the close city to drink in the fresh breezes that blow around the Grove, and by their presence to cheer the hearts of the professor and his little Ruth.

The letters from China are full of hope. God is blessing the labours of Austin and Gabrielle there, and more than one soul has through their instrumentality been called out of the darkness of heathenism into light, and learned from their hearts to take up and echo the petition taught them by their divine Master:

"Thy kingdom come."

"We have much to encourage us," writes Austin, "but we need more workers. Let no one forget that even yet 'millions of souls in China are dying without a God.' And, dear ones, pray that the Lord of the harvest would send forth labourers into this harvest-field."

As Priscilla read aloud this letter to her father, she laid her hand on the head of her noble boys as they stood beside her, and prayed that one day they might be led to say, in answer to the Lord's appeal, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for me?" "Here am I; send me."

And so they also might, either at home or abroad, share in the great privilege of helping on "the kingdom of God."

THE END.