Mr. Rutherford had received his dear wife and children as it were from the jaws of death, but it had been by the almost super-human exertions of the faithful CÆsar, who, for a long time, was disabled by the severe injuries he had received as he bore them through the burning building. The noble beasts for which CÆsar had fought so bravely, with all the luxuries and comforts of his large establishment, were swept away at the demands of creditors, and nothing that he could call his own remained except the faithful old negro—who, although a slave, was too far advanced in life to be liable as property—and those dear objects in which his heart still found some sweet solace amid the drear prospect which surrounded him.

At present he was occupying a small house which had belonged to him once, and used as a tenement for a laborer on his estate. Few were the articles of furniture which sufficed for their use, and those had been, for the most part, loaned for their immediate necessity. His lovely wife still kept her pleasant smile, but her heart was smitten with a stroke that pressed it down heavily. It was not the loss of all, nor the change of abode, nor the rude and scanty furniture, nor all the other aggravating tokens of their change of circumstances—but she saw the struggle that was agitating her husband's mind; she could not relieve him of that load of care; she could not obliterate from his memory past errors, nor could she mark out for him a path that offered any other prospect than the dark one in which they were travelling then. All she could do was to make the best of what they had, to throw into her words the softest tones, and to lighten up her countenance with the semblance of hope she did not feel.

It was not long after they had thus been reduced to the extremity of fortune's change, wearied with the turmoil of his distracted mind, Mr. Rutherford was sitting at the little window that opened from their abode upon the highway; his Mary was beside him, and she held his hand, and fondly pressed it as she oft had done in better days, put it to her heart, and let him feel how true it beat for him. The shades of evening were just setting upon them, held back a little by the young moon which hung out her crescent in the west, when a vehicle stopped at their door, and a gentleman of lively mien alighted and prepared to enter. Mrs. Rutherford went for a light, while her husband repaired to the door to receive the visitor, whoever he might be, although, as he supposed, some messenger of evil tidings, like all of late.

'Mr. Rutherford, I believe?'

'My name is Rutherford, sir; will you walk in?'

The stranger immediately followed, and entered their small apartment, Mrs. Rutherford, at the same time, placing the light on a little stand.

'I expect you have forgotten me, Mr. Rutherford; my name is Andrews. You remember the poor boy you helped some six years since.'

'Andrews—what, William Andrews!'

'The same, sir. A few years make some change in our appearance.'

It had, indeed, made some change, and one which entirely effaced every resemblance to the plain and homely-dressed lad who, six years since, had left his home to seek his fortune among strangers. He was now well-dressed; and had the ease of manner which is acquired only by mingling in society. He had grown in stature also, and was now a tall and slender man; his fresh, healthy countenance had grown pale. He wore his hair long, after the fashion of the South; his eye alone retained its naturally soft and expressive cast, although its brightness was dimmed, and seemed to indicate a want of energy in the physical frame. His own mother could scarcely have found a likeness to his former self; his very voice sympathized with the apparent languor of his frame, and had nothing in it that would recall the lively tone of boyhood.

'It cannot be!' said Mrs. Rutherford, who now approached and took his hand. 'Not William Andrews! Time has indeed made a change—but we are glad, heartily glad to see you.'

'It is not time alone, madam, that has made a change in my appearance, I suspect. I have been, you know, in a southern climate, and that takes severe hold sometimes of us northern men; but I am very happy again to see you, very happy indeed.'

Without the least reference by either party to the great change which had occurred in circumstances, some little time was spent in a general interchange of question and answer about persons and things; when Mrs. Rutherford left the room, perhaps from feelings of delicacy to her husband, who might not wish to refer in her presence to his own peculiar situation.

'You find, Mr. Andrews, that there have been changes here too, which perhaps must astonish you.'

'I have heard of them, sir, a few miles from hence, and have urged on my journey further than I should have done. I need not say to you, sir, that to me it is the most painful event I have yet met with in life. Is it true, my dear sir? Are you as much reduced as report affirms and appearance indicate.'

'I am as low down, so far as property is concerned, as I can be; there is absolutely nothing left.'

And then, with much composure, Mr. Rutherford unfolded the complicated maze in which he had struggled for some time, and the closing of the scene in the last fatal blow. Although apparently unmoved himself, not so was he who listened to the tale of suffering. The southern clime had marred William's beauty, but it had only added to the warmth of his heart. For some time after Mr. Rutherford had done speaking, he sat wrapt in silent thought; his emotion too strong to dare trust the utterance of a single expression. At length he rose, and taking the hand of his friend—

'Mr. Rutherford, the ways of the Almighty are mysterious, but they must be right. When a lone wanderer, you took me by the hand; you gave me counsel, you assisted me with means, you introduced me to influential friends; you made my heart glad then, and gave me an impetus which has led me on to success beyond my expectations. The money I have returned to you, but the debt of gratitude for your kindness to me in that hour will remain an uncancelled obligation while I live. And now, sir, you must take this trifle from me—I demand the right of a debtor to your bounty—take it, and keep it for your present need; it must not, it shall not be that either you or your angel wife know the pinchings of want.'

His voice trembled so violently, that he could scarcely utter the few last words; nor could Mr. Rutherford respond to this warm burst of sympathy; it had gone directly to his heart, and caused a flow of feeling that could find no vent in words.

'I must leave you for the night. God willing, I shall see you on the morrow, and tell you all my story. You then will see that I do not rob myself, and we will devise some other plan together.'

Mr. Rutherford shook his hand with a silent grasp, but it told the young man that his offering of love and gratitude had done its work. Leaving his best respects for Mrs. Rutherford, William departed.

As Mrs. Rutherford entered the room, after their guest had gone, she found her husband seated by the stand, and looking at something which he had spread out upon the table.

'See here, Mary.'

She stepped up to him, and putting her arm around his neck, stooped over beside him.

'My dear husband! what does this mean? Five hundred dollars!' and she looked at him in amazement.

'Yes, my love; it is five hundred dollars given us by that young man whom a few years since we befriended: this is the way, my dear, that God gives back the bread cast upon the waters.'

'Oh, my dear George!' and she threw herself upon his bosom, 'how glad I am for you; you feel that you have one friend now, don't you?'

'Yes, Mary; and you cannot think how my heart leaps at the thought; one sympathising friend in an hour like this, is indeed "cold water to a thirsty soul"; but oh! that better Friend above, shall we ever forget him, Mary? How good! how true! how wise! how unfailing! if we will only trust in Him.'

They said no more: silently they sank together on their knees, and poured out the fulness of their hearts to that Friend—that better Friend above.

In the hour of our deep distress, when the dark clouds are around and above us, the soul is prone to feel that the darkness which oppresses it is the frown of God: we forget that love may be concealed, not turned away.

To Mr. Rutherford's heart this mercy-drop came; a delightful assurance that he was not forsaken, and that still the arm of sovereign love was stretched out over him.

William Andrews had not been, for the few past years, engaged in the active whirl of business to no purpose: he had amassed a few thousands by a happy venture, and his success had been beyond his most sanguine expectations. But this was not all; he had learned to grapple with difficulties, and by energy and determination to accomplish results which the irresolute and fearful could only dream of. He called the next morning, and in a private interview with Mr. Rutherford procured from him a particular statement of his affairs.

In a few days he called again; and there seemed to be a cheerfulness in his air which he had not before manifested.

'I have been looking over your matters a little, my dear sir, and I cannot think they are in such a hopeless case as you imagine. Your property is indeed all attached, and if sold under the present state of things would, to be sure, be dreadfully sacrificed, and might not bring more than the claims upon it: you certainly value your estate beyond the amount for which it is holden.'

'Most certainly; but by our laws an immediate sale can be forced; and in that case, the whole will scarcely meet the demand.'

'You must apply then to some friend who will assume your debts'—Mr. Rutherford shook his head—'and who will take your property into his hands, until better times come round.'

'I have no friends, Mr. Andrews.'

'We once thought,' said Mrs. Rutherford, who was listening with much interest, 'that we had quite a number; but friends do not always stand the test of such a fall as ours has been.'

'But they could not possibly lose any thing, Mrs. Rutherford.'

'Perhaps they might not; still, you know, it is a delicate matter to ask the favor, when not one of all who have been with us in our prosperous days has seen fit to come near us now. My dear husband, until you so generously had poured out your kindness, felt that he was alone in the world.'

For some time each sat musing in silence over the uncertainty of human fortunes and earthly friendships, when Mr. Andrews drew up to the table, and requesting the attention of Mr. Rutherford a moment, began to spread before him certain documents.

'Please to examine these, sir, and say whether they are correct.'

'These are my obligations, Mr. Andrews—I gave them in good faith; and although I cannot meet them now, will own them to the last farthing.' Mr. Rutherford looked with much astonishment, for he perceived that all the responsibilities he was involved in were lying before him.

'Are there any more that you can think of, Mr. Rutherford?'

'There are no more.'

'Then, sir, you may take them and do what you please with them: all I ask of you is, to give me a claim upon your property for this amount,' naming not more than two-thirds the value of the notes. 'The interest of that I am sure you can pay, and your property is once more your own.'

William was well aware that promptness in such matters was of the first moment. He had at once liquidated every claim at a rate which each one was glad to accept, and thus materially reduced the whole amount: this he could be well secured for; the property of his benefactor need not be sacrificed, and his heart was at rest.

Blessings on you, William Andrews! Your frame is slender, and seems to be nurturing some hidden plague that may ere long make it a prey to the worm; but it is the abode of a generous spirit. How its quickened pulses beat with the ecstatic happiness which now plays within! Your eye is on that noble pair; and the overpowering emotion which is thrilling their bosom at this new and unexpected deed of love, is the richest feast you ever tasted. Oh how they will bless you as the years roll by, when in their happy home and on their own paternal soil they tread in freedom, and think of him whose generous friendship snatched them from the brink of ruin, and placed them there! Oh ye lovers of this world's treasures, did you but know the secret charm these treasures can unfold! Go, dry the widow's tears; go, aid the orphan's helpless steps; go, prop the man of pure and noble soul, bowing beneath the weight of penury's heavy load—and you will feel there is a talisman of untold value in your hoards of gold and silver which you never dreamed of.

Mr. Rutherford had no idea of taking advantage of the arrangement Andrews had made, and insisted upon giving a claim for the full amount; but this William would not allow. He had made a fair bargain with the creditors, and would not permit Mr. Rutherford to bind himself further than the amount he had paid.

'You can, my dear sir, as you are able, make good to each one what he has willingly relinquished.'

'And, God permitting. I will do it to the full amount.'