Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Kate Lovell's school days
 Jessie Maythorn
 Back Cover

Title: Kate Lovell's school days
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00035126/00001
 Material Information
Title: Kate Lovell's school days
Physical Description: 96, 16 p., 1 leaf of plates : col. ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Religious Tract Society (Great Britain) ( Publisher )
Unwin Brothers (Firm) ( Printer )
Gresbam Press ( Printer )
Publisher: The Religious Tract Society
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Gresbam Press ; Unwin Brothers
Publication Date: c1878
Copyright Date: 1878
Subject: Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Orphans -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children and death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Good and evil -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1878   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1878
Genre: Publishers' catalogues   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
England -- Manchester
England -- Brighton
England -- Chilworth
General Note: Publisher's catalogue follows text.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00035126
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: notis - ALH2787
oclc - 61287537
alephbibnum - 002232394

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Kate Lovell's school days
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
    Jessie Maythorn
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Back Cover
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
Full Text


The Baldwin Library
7 mB j


"' 'v-'^ ^ ^-..--,".
nFAr 2^ -/

']i *









T is a common thing to speak of
old age as the winter of life;
and the young, with all their hopes
blooming like flowers along a yet un-
tried path, think of that distant time
-if they think of it at all-as one of
suffering and decay, in which there can
be no enjoyment, and no anticipation,
but only sad remembrances and vain


Not thus unequally, however, has
our heavenly Father allotted the good
and the ill of human life. Every
period as it steals on brings its own
sources of interest ; and as in the
natural world each season has its plea-
sures, and even winter is not without
its charm, so childhood and youth,
maturity and old age, have each their
enjoyments and advantages. And the
closing years of earthly existence,
though they may be attended with
bodily weakness or pain, are often
cheered by joys more real, and hopes
far better founded, than those which
cast their fleeting brightness over our
early days.
But it is only of the Christian's old
age that I am thinking as I write. It
must indeed be sad for one whose


heart and affections still cling to this
world, to see its pleasures fading, year
after year; to feel that health and
strength are failing; and to know that
soon the wearied body must return to
dust, and the immortal spirit enter
upon that dark eternity which it has
never cared to think of, and for which
it has never prepared. What can be
more gloomy, more hopeless, than such
an old age as this ? May it never be
the lot of any to whom this little book
shall come!
The happiness of the Christian, when
his journey is nearly ended, arises
chiefly from the glorious hope of his
joyful entrance into that kingdom to
which many dearly loved ones are
gone before, and where he shall see
the King in His beauty." Yet un-


speakably blessed are the quiet hours.
spent in retracing the events of long-
past years, "scanning the gracious
providence," once unseen, which has
shielded us amidst all the perils of
our way, and brought us to the haven
where our wandering hearts have found
their rest.
Of this kind are the thoughts which
sometimes cheer the loneliness of my
solitary age. Long, long years have
passed since the gladness of youth was
in my heart, and, like others, I have
found trouble and sorrow in the world
which I entered with such bright and
confident expectations: but the God
who has been with me all my life long
is still my support and stay, and gives
to me, the lowest of His servants,
through faith in the finished work of


my Redeemer, that quietness and con-
fidence which is my strength.
Sometimes, as I sit by the sunny
window overlooking my garden, bright
with the flowers which I still love
as I loved them in my youth, me-
mory goes back to the scenes of my
early days; and as old associations
are awakened, and one image succeeds
another, my knitting falls from my
hands, and I am lost among these
recollections of the past, until the
fading away of the western sunlight,
or the welcome approach of some
friendly footstep, arouses me from my
dream. I do not expect that the
youthful reader can fully enter into
my feelings when I count these re-
veries among the pleasures of old
age; yet such they surely are to those


who can refer all things to God's rule
and guidance, and who know that He
is ever the Friend and Guide of them
that love Him.
In these hours of quiet thought,
I have now and then gone back to
my childhood and earliest youth; and
at such times there will come before
me a vision of some-once-familiar face,
or I seem to hear the tones of a voice,
dear in the days of my girlhood, but
long forgotten amidst the changes and
chances of life. Occurrences that at
the time were magnified into events,
return to my memory with something
of their first importance; and though
they were but the incidents of the
schoolroom, or such as may be met
with in everyday experience, I have
sometimes asked myself whether a


brief, occasional record of a few of the
incidents, and especially of the various
characters, linked with my memory of
bygone days, might not possess an
interest for some young reader, and
perhaps serve a better purpose than
just to beguile an idle hour.
And now that I have resolved to
set down in a simple manner those
recollections of my school-life and of
the companions of my youth, let me
hope that they may convey instruction,
warning, encouragement, to another
young traveller here and there; so
that even this little work may be some-
thing done for the Master who accepts
the humblest service that springs
from love to Him.
I was an only child: but my
mother's uncertain health having made


it desirable that I should be sent at
an early age to school, I have fewer
home recollections than might other-
wise have been the case. Yet to that
dear mother's counsels, notwithstanding
our long separation, I owe, under a
higher blessing, the good principles
which have been my safeguard in
many a time of trial; for she was
accustomed to write to me frequent
letters, which, valued and read again
and again, continued to bring before
me her wise and gentle admonitions
long after the hand that penned them
was cold and still.
It was on a chill, bright morning,
early in the spring, that I was for
the first time taken to school. Well
do I remember that drive in the little
pony-carriage : the hedges just begin-


ning to put forth their leaves, the
cheerful carolling of birds around us;
my dear father's pleasant talk as he
drove along; and more than all, the
somewhat stately yet. kind reception
which awaited me at my journey's
end. And then the sorrowful feelings
of the first week : the loneliness, the
home-sickness, the tears kept back
resolutely during the day but shed
silently night after night, until the
sadness gradually wore away, and I
became interested in the studies and
pursuits, and formed acquaintances
and likings amongst the companions
around me. School life was very
different then from what I hear of
it now. Many time-honoured customs
in those days are now disregarded;
young ladies are taught things that


neither we, nor even our elders at
home, ever dreamed of; but the heart
of a school-girl is very much the same
from generation to generation; and
when I speak of my first grief, and
how, without my loving home one
bit the less, it changed into cheerful-
ness, and I became one of the gayest
of the party, I know that I shall be
easily understood.


Do not know whether there
is any one now living to whom
the name of Kate Lovell recalls the
image of a girl of eleven years old,
who came to be a pupil at Mount
Pleasant; but while I am myself in
all probability forgotten, there are
some Christian names which I seldom
hear without a bygone association.
"Little Margaret" is one belonging
to my earliest recollections of school-
times; and though our friendship was
but short-lived, the character and


example of its owner left a lasting
impression on my mind, and has
helped me ere now in circumstances
when it was difficult to act with con-
sistency or decision. The pet name
was given to her, not so much because
she was one of the youngest in the
school, or a favourite with the older
girls, as on account of her slight and
small figure, and the childlike expres-
sion of her face, which caused her,
at ten years old, to look scarcely more
than seven.
Little Margaret was an orphan.
She was added to our number in my
second half-year, when I had become
thoroughly acquainted with school life,
and had learned to fall in with the
ways of my companions, both bad
and good.


I had not at this time anything
more than a vague belief in the im-
portance of personal religion, and
thought very little about it, consider-
ing, as young people generally do,
whether they will own it or not, that
serious reflections and a preparation
for eternity were only suited to a later
stage of life. My schoolfellows were
of the same class: I do not think that
during the first year or two there was
one who seemed to have a thought
of the world to come. We read our
chapters and sang our hymns morning
and evening in the schoolroom, and
knelt down for a brief prayer before
we retired to rest; but to get well
through the scripture lesson was what
we thought of much more than any
higher end, and, judging from myself,


the words we uttered found but a faint
echo in our hearts.
Little Margaret, from the day of
her coming amongst us, showed that
she was under the influence of better
and higher feelings. The first sign
by which we perceived this difference
was her love for the Bible. It was
her daily companion: not with any
talk or display, but in a quiet, matter-
of-course way, which showed long-
confirmed habit. There was a shady
corner of our spacious play-ground,
with a little rustic seat, to which in
the bright autumn mornings she was
accustomed to retreat; where, at a
distance from the merriment of her
schoolfellows, she day after day passed
the half-hour allowed for recreation
after our early breakfast; though it


was not long before she was missed,
and when her absence was once re-
marked upon, its motive was speedily
It was thought so strange and
absurd to spend the short interval
which we had to ourselves at this
period of the day in reading the
Bible, that Margaret's conduct was
made the theme of comment and ridi-
cule by all. She was questioned, and
argued with, and laughed at; but
though nothing that we said could
disturb the gentleness of her manner,
neither could anything shake her sense
of right, or cause an alteration in her
behaviour. Naturally a timid child,
and in most things easily brought to
yield to the will of others, on this one
point she was immovable; never con-


tending by words, answering only by
a smile, or begging us to let her just
take her own way, and invariably trot-
ting up to her little corner after break-
fast, making room with a pleased look
for any one who came and sat beside
her, but never suffering her attention
to be withdrawn.
I do not mean to imply that we
were wrong in spending the half-hour
which was given us for amusement as
we pleased. The recreation we en-
joyed so much was good alike for
body and mind; and Margaret at
other times was as ready to join in it
as the rest; but I instance this daily
proof of her love for God's holy
word, as the first token by which we
knew that religion with her was a
reality, the principle of her actions


now, and not merely one of the many
things which she came to learn at
school. She was, as I afterwards
learned, the child of parents who had
been numbered among the excellent
of the earth; and I remember her
quiet reply to an unkind remark, while
the tears stood in her eyes-"My
father and mother both wished me to
love the Bible." Doubtless the grace
so evidently given to this lamb of the
fold was an answer to the prayers of
the believing father and mother, who
had known and trusted in that faithful
word-" The promise is to you and
to your children."
,Some feeling of pity for the lonely
orphan, aided by the sweetness and
humility of her disposition, induced a
few of us to take her part; but by


the greater number of her companions
Margaret's simple piety was looked
upon as an indirect reproach; and
bitter must sometimes have been the
trial to this young disciple from the
lecturing or the ridicule which she had
to bear.
Young reader, are you ever tempted
by evil example to join in the laugh
against one who belongs to Christ's
little flock, and is seeking to live up
to a higher standard, perhaps, than
yours ? Consider what is said in
Holy Scripture of such as these:
" He that toucheth you toucheth the
apple of His eye." Let this thought
keep back your light words and re-
strain your smile. A good-natured
laugh at some of the amusing occur-
irencc:s or ,mistakes oi the: s:icoolroi-m


will do no one any harm; but beware
how you throw difficulties in the way
of a companion who has "respect unto
God's commandments," and by word
or look of yours make it harder to
obey them.
Margaret had been amongst us
some months when an incident took
place which had the effect of altering
her position in the school, and the
estimation in which she was held.
It was towards the close of a sultry
August morning, during a time when
the heat had been remarkably oppres-
sive. We were all 'engaged in our
studies, and, as it happened -a most
unusual occurrence-in the absence of
our principal, who had been called away
for a few hours by the sudden illness
of a dear friend. We were therefore


left in the charge of our teacher, Miss
Armadale, and the French governess,
Madame Elise. Had Mrs. Sutherland
been present, perhaps the scene I am
about to describe might not have been
witnessed; for her influence over us
was very great, and we should have
gained calmness and self-possession
from her example.
For some time the signs of a coming
storm had been increasing; dark masses
of cloud swept over the angry sky;
a gleam of lightning flashing sud-
denly into the room caused the more
timid among us to start and turn pale,
and the roll of distant thunder, each
time becoming less distant, sounded
heavily on the air. With the gather-
ing tempest the darkness increased,
so that we were obliged to give up


our various employment; and terror
was at last depicted on every face
as we drew closer together, silent, or
speaking only in whispers, shrinking
before the sudden blaze of light which
at shorter and shorter intervals fear-
fully illumined the large schoolroom,
while peals of thunder seemed to shake
the very foundations of the earth.
Such a terrific storm I do not remem-
ber to have witnessed at any other
period of my life. Every one felt that
the danger was great; and even Miss
Armadale and Madame Elise were
unable to conceal their alarm. Some
of the girls shed tears, or gave a cry
of fear, but the greater number
sat cowering in the darkest part of
the room, silent and trembling with


In the height of my alarm the
thought of Margaret came into my
mind, for we were friends, and as I
was a little older, and felt as if the
difference had been much greater, I
looked round for her with the intention
of calling her to me and giving her
what comfort and protection I could.
She was in her usual place at the
lower end of the school-room -left
alone, as if forgotten or uncared for.
She was leaning on the desk, with her
hand over her eyes, so that I was
close at her side almost before she
could observe my approach. I saw
to my surprise that her face still wore
its naturally composed expression: no
trace of fear was there, except that her
cheek was paler than usual, and her
long dark eyelashes were wet with


tears. She looked up and smiled as
I sat down beside her.
"This is a dreadful storm, dear
Maggie," I said; "are you not very
much frightened ?"
"Just at first I was very much afraid,"
she answered, "and I was unhappy
indeed, for I remembered my dear
mamma, how she comforted me when
I was a little child, and there was a
thunderstorm at my own home. But
then I thought of something that she
made me learn when I grew older, and
it has taken away my fear."
What was it ?" I asked, with
some impatience. "Tell it to me at
Margaret hesitated, and coloured.
" It was one of the psalms, Kate. I
just said it to myself."


"Say it to me," I returned, as
another awful peal died away over-
head. I never was so terrified in my
Madame Elise was sitting near
us, and having imperfectly caught
what had passed, now interposed. If
Mademoiselle Marguerite," she said in
her own language, can say anything
to calm our fear, every one will be
thankful to listen to such words." And
she cast a look round, which called for
instant attention. Come forward,
my little one," she continued, turning
to Margaret, "and tell us what sup-
ports you in this terrible tempest."
The years of a long life have passed
since that day, yet still the scene rises
before my mind, and I seem again to
see the countenance of Madame Elise,


the grave, earnest look of Miss Arma-
dale, and the subdued aspect of the
listening group--no longer inclined
to ridicule-while Margaret stood up,
and in a low, clear voice, reverently
uttered the holy words -" He that
dwelleth in the secret place of the
Most High shall abide under the
shadow of the Almighty. I will say
of the Lord, He is my refuge and my
fortress: my God; in Him will I
trust. . .He shall cover thee
with His feathers, and under His
wings shalt thou trust : His truth shall
be thy shield and buckler. Thou
shalt not be afraid for the terror by
night; nor for the arrow that flieth by
day; nor for the pestilence that walk-
eth in darkness; nor for the destruc-
tion that wasteth at noonday. . .


Because thou hast made the Lord,
which is ry refuge, even the Most
High, thy habitation, there shall no
evil befall thee, neither shall any plague
come nigh thy dwelling."
Slowly and distinctly Margaret re-
peated these words, and never have
I heard Scripture with a deeper feel-
ing of awe. She evidently realized
for herself the security of the promise.
They were not mere words to her.
Once she was interrupted by a vivid
flash, which was succeeded by a loud
burst of thunder; but after a pause,
she went on with a quiet self-pos-
session which at such a moment, and
when surrounded by such opposite
influences, could only have resulted
from a heartfelt trust in-the Divine
protection, The power of her ex-


ample seemed for the time to reach
every one of us; and many wished,
and a few perhaps resolved, to be
henceforth more like the humble-
minded child who, in the hour of trial,
had risen superior to them all.
But the danger passed away, and
with it, in most cases, the good resolu-
tions which only the sense of danger
had awakened. From this day, how-
ever, Margaret had no more ridicule
in the schoolroom, nor even when
she retreated with her books in her
hand to the quiet corner in the play-
She would doubtless have preferred
the stillness and solitude of her
"closet;" but that, in my day, was a
privilege unheard of for a school-girl;
ana iL may be tIac e'en now u is iu'


easy for the members of such a com-
munity to enter in and shut to the
door, and pray to our Father who
seeth in secret. Yet this habit of
silent, prayerful Scripture study, under
all her disadvantages, was, I am per-
suaded, the true secret of Margaret's
religion. And her perseverance in
her lowly path of duty while at school
would strengthen her character against
trials came, and prepare her, by God's
grace, to "honour Christ through
shame and scorn" in other scenes, and
amidst far more powerful temptations.
She was only with us for a year or
two, and then went to reside with her
guardians in a distant part of the
kingdom. Whether she was early
taken to a better home, or whether she
lived to "adorn the doctrine of God


_our Saviour" in riper years, as she had
been enabled to do in girlhood, I have
never known; but this we cannot
doubt, that the Master whom she
served would continue to watch over
her, would be "with her in trouble,"
when trouble came; would "deliver"
her, and "show her His salvation."
The Lord Jesus is a faithful Friend,
and none that trust in Him shall be


Do not count it among the least
of my blessings, that although
age and infirmity compel me to be
literally a keeper at home," it is not
often that I am prevented from joining
my fellow-worshippers on the day we
love best in the house of God. Many
and consoling even now are my re-
collections of such services in bygone
years; and still, as I "enter into His
gates with thanksgiving, and into His
courts with praise," I bless His name
for the good word of His grace, which


guided me in youth and is my stay
and support in age.
It is delightful to join in heart-
worship with the great congrega-
tion," and to think of that happy time
when ten thousand times ten thousand
shall unite in giving "glory and
honour to Him that sitteth upon the
throne." And it is delightful also to
listen to the message of salvation from
the minister of God, especially when
we have prayed that the Holy Spirit
may give His blessing with the glad
tidings. But as even in the days of
the apostles, so now, in every Christian
assembly there are many by whom
both the message and the messenger
are lightly regarded; many who listen
only with the outward ear, while their
thoughts are far away. And there is,

perhaps, a still greater number of those
who hear attentively, that they may
afterwards, on their way home, or in
the evening fireside gathering, com-
ment upon the sermon, and show
where the preacher failed in his argu-
ment, or how his illustration might
have been better chosen. There is
yet a third class of "unprofitable"
hearers, who have sprung up since my
early days-persons who undervalue or
set lightly by the sermon altogether;
who think that ritual, and music, and
outward prostrations are the true ele-
ments of worship; and would fain do
away with the foolishness of preach-
ing," though St. Paul records the
preaching of Christ crucified as the
means which God has appointed to
save them that believe. Few there


are, comparatively, amongst the young
who receive the word of salvation into
a humble, obedient heart, where, by
the blessing of the Holy Spirit, it may
bring forth repentance towards God,
faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, and the
fruits of a life pleasing and acceptable
in His sight.
Thoughts such as these were passing
through my mind in the twilight of a
Sunday evening not long ago, and
my memory reverted to one of my
early friends, who, after a life of much
change and trial, has now gone to her
eternal rest-" the rest that remaineth."
My friendship with Hester Meredith
began at school, and continued on
both sides sincere and unbroken to
the last. A trifling circumstance be-
came the first bond of attachment
3 *


between us; but circumstances appa-
rently trifling are often of unspeak-
able importance in the formation of
character, or the ordering of events.
I have lived to discern for myself that
a single action or a word may prove
the turning-point of a life; and such
was, I think, to me the incident I
now go on to relate.
Most of my readers will know the
powerful influence which is often
exercised at school by one or two
girls possessing more force of cha-
racter than their companions, so that
their will becomes law in the school-
room, and their opinion is rarely dis-
puted, even by those of better know-
ledge. One of this class, named
Florence Leslie, was in our world at
Mount Pleasant: a clever girl, with


keen and ready sarcasm, and a quick-
ness of perception which enabled her
to acquire a complete ascendency over
many of timid disposition and with
principles unfixed. I belonged to this
number at the time of which I write;
and now, by her showy talents anid the
favour with which she distinguished
me, I soon began to adopt her sen-
timents and manners out of school,
though they were totally opposed to
my previous ideas of right and
Hester Meredith formed one of a
smaller and less influential party, quiet
and correct themselves, but interfering
little with others except when they
were obliged to make a stand against
some violation of the rules, or some
act of such glaring impropriety, that to


witness it in silence would have seemed
like acquiescence.
An occurrence of this kind it was
that put a sudden end to my intimacy
with Florence, and was the beginning
of a worthier and happier friendship.
We had just returned from church
one Sunday morning, having heard a
sermon speciallyaddressed to the young
by our excellent minister, a good and
devoted man, but with some peculiari-
ties of manner and pronunciation which
had often furnished us with unfitting
amusement. This morning, however,
they had been unnoticed by me, for
he spoke of the sin and utter help-
lessness of our state by nature; of.
the redemption freely offered to us in
Christ; of the renewing grace of the
Holy Spirit, which is promised to all


who humbly seek it; and the earnest-
ness of his entreaties, the solemnity of
his warnings, had arrested my attention
and touched my heart. It happened
also that Hester Meredith had been
my walking-companion from the house
of God. She had not been long in the
school, and being older than I was,
our intercourse was only occasional;
but our talk on the way home had been
of a nature to deepen the impression
left by the sermon we had just heard,
for, little as I knew of her, there was
something in Hester that won my
confidence and opened my heart.
I was therefore by no means dis-
posed to contribute my share of ap-
plause when, on our gathering again
in the school-room, Florence Leslie
began to imitate the tone and manner


of our good clergyman, giving us, as
her excellent memory enabled her to
do, many passages from his sermon,
with a ludicrous mimicry of the pecu-
liarities which displeased her taste.
It is probable that my subdued and
serious looks had not escaped her
quick observation; and delighting to
show her power, she soon addressed
herself chiefly to me, as if determined
to provoke my smile. In spite of my
upbraiding conscience, she had nearly
succeeded-for her laugh was irresist-
ible-when Hester Meredith entered
the room, and looking round, and
pausing for a moment, became aware
of what was going on. The glow of
indignation crimsoned her cheek and
brow; she stood for awhile in silence;
then, as if remembering whose soldier


and servant she was, she came up to
Florence, and before us all reproved
her for the sinfulness of her conduct
in thus bringing contempt upon the
minister of Christ, and using the
talents which God had bestowed upon
her, not to benefit, but to injure those
whom she had power to influence for
good or ill..
There was not a movement, not a
whisper was heard, while Hester gave
utterance to this indignant and well-
deserved reproof. Every eye was
turned on Florence, who put on a look
of defiance, but had not a word to say
in reply. Hester did not give her
time to recover from her astonishment,
but turning to me with a changed ex-
pression of countenance, with a look
of affection and yet of authority, "You,


Kate, my friend," she said, "will not
choose the way of sinners, nor sit in
the seat of the scornful. Do not be
ashamed to show yourself on the side
of Christ. Why should you care for
the smile or the blame of any one ? Is
not the word of God true, and shall
we ever repent of having taken Him
for our Friend ?"
There was a moment's silence.
Hester held out her hand to me, as
if waiting for my decision. I trembled,
my heart beat quickly, but I rose from
my seat, took her offered hand in
mine, and without another word being
spoken, we went out together into the
garden; where, with simple, earnest
words, which I long remembered, she
tried to confirm in me the determina-
tion to enlist myself, as she expressed


it, on Christ's side, and to seek for
grace to quit myself as His loyal and
obedient subject.
From that time forward I went to
the house of God with a more reverent
mind. I began to listen with a more
humble attention, and to ask that a
blessing for me might be given with
the glad tidings of salvation. It was
long before I could believe that I had
an answer to such poor, wandering
prayers, but the blessing was given;
and now, as I look back to those early
days, I know, though I knew not then,
that my Saviour was with me every
time that, with a silent, earnest petition,
I knelt down in my accustomed place,
and that it was the Blessed Spirit
alone which prompted good desires.
It was well for me that Florence

Leslie scarcely deigned to notice me
after this occurrence, and I found ample
compensation for her loss in Hester's
faithful, Christian friendship. To her
example and advice, while we re-
mained at school, I owed more than
words could express; and our mutual
confidence and affection continued, as
I have said, without a shadow of es-
trangement, until her death. I have
still amongst my treasured relics an
old, worn Bible, with time-stained
leaves and antiquated binding. My
name appears on the first leaf in faded
characters written by her dear hand,
and I have wept some sorrowful tears
over it in former days. But I never
mourned for her as those who have no
hope, for I know that "them which
sleep in Jesus will God bring with


Him;" and, through the same un-
changing Saviour, I trust that we shall
be made partakers of the same hea-
venly promises. "So shall we ever
be with the Lord."
In what spirit do you, young reader,
habitually attend the services of God's
holy day ? Do you pray when prayer
is offered ? Do you listen with a
thought that the word of life is sent
to you ? "I have a message from God
unto thee," may well be said by every
faithful minister to each of his hearers
when he begins to speak of the glad
tidings. Do you ever think of it ?
Or do you hear the sermon as if it
were a lecture on history or science-
perhaps with scarcely so much atten-
tion; and when it is ended, do you
pass judgment upon its subject and


style, and the manner in which it was
delivered, almost before your foot is
withdrawn from the house of God ?
This is the way with many; but
believe me, dear reader, it is not the
way to find comfort and peace. Do
you wonder that you gather so little
good, though your presence in the
sanctuary is constant, week after week,
year after year? Would you fain
have more of reality in your religion,
a deeper consciousness of God's pre-
sence in your daily life, some sure
token of His sanctifying grace in your
temper and conversation ? Examine
whether the hindrance lies not with
yourself. It must be so, for the
promise cannbt fail. "As the rain
cometh down, and the snow from hea-
ven, . so shall My word be that


goeth forth out of My mouth: . .
it shall accomplish that which I please,
and it shall prosper in the thing where-
to I sent it."
But the blessing must be sought;
God's word must be heard with rever-
ence, and hid in the heart, and prayed
over in the still chamber. Then the
Spirit of truth and holiness will cause
it to sink deeper and deeper, and your
good desires will be more frequent
and fervent, and as the knowledge of
your own unworthiness and of the
Saviour's pardon becomes more clear
to you, the love of Christ will be
kindled in your soul, and the desire
of your heart will be "What shall
I render unto the Lord ?"
Resolve to prove this for yourself,
and begin without delay. And when


the blessing is granted, and you know
something of the happiness of having
enlisted yourself on Christ's side, never
be ashamed to show your colours.


LTIIOUGH my daily life is quiet
and uneventful, and my little
drawing-room wears the same aspect
from one year's end to another,
only varied by the exchange of
summer drapery for warm crimson
curtains, and the wheeling of my
easy-chair from the sunny window
to its comfortable corner by the fire-
side-I have many kind friends, both
young and old, who love to look in
upon my retirement, and whom I
gladly receive with a true and cordial

welcome. I can thankfully say that
with an ever-present Friend, whose
goodness and mercy have followed me
all the days of my life, I do not feel
my loneliness a burden; but it is ne-
vertheless pleasant to see some dear,
familiar face come smiling in, and
pleasant to hear the kindly greeting,
and to be called upon to share in the
joys or to sympathise in the trials of
those whom I love.
Amongst my younger visitors there
are a few in whom I have a special
interest, because they are earnest-
minded, thoughtful girls, sincerely de-
siring to take the right path in their
entrance upon life. But they know
little of the dangers and temptations
that await the young pilgrim who has
chosen the narrow way; and they


listen, with deference indeed, to a
word of caution, and perhaps even
utter a ready assent, while it is not
difficult to read in their faces the con-
viction that to them, at least, the
warning does not apply. When they
come to me, alone or together, and tell
me, with animated looks and eager
voices, of some special service which
they have attended, of some religious
book which they are reading, of some
new work of charity in which they are
going to unite how I wish for the
loving influence that, without chilling
their natural and beautiful enthusiasm,
might warn them not to mistake these
things, at the best but the outward
signs of religion, for the real and
abiding fruits of the Spirit.
"Do not too readily believe," I


have sometimes said, "because you
delight to hear the pealing anthem
and the note of praise, or because
your hearts can be reached by an im-
pressive sermon, or by some sad history
of sorrow, so that to help becomes not
only a pleasure but a necessity do
not look upon all this as a certain
proof that you are "a new creature in
Christ Jesus;" for it may arise only
from the freshness and the warmth of
youthful feeling, directed by circum-
stances into this channel instead of
that of worldly pleasure. The real
proof of a change of heart lies deeper,
and is manifested by signs of another
What are those other signs ? Few
of them lie, like these outward works
of mercy, on the surface of our lives,


yet they may be discerned by a watch-
ful observer, though only "open and
manifest" to Him who reads the heart.
There is the real, abiding sorrow for
sins committed such a sorrow as
leads to an habitual struggle against
the temptations which spring up in
our daily life. There is the self-denial
which enables us to take up our cross,
whatever it may be, with a patient,
unmurmuring spirit; to do the things
we would not choose to do, because
they are in our plain path of duty, so
that we cannot question the will of
God concerning them; to think of
others before ourselves; to be content
with the lowest place. And since I
write of such tokens of true heart-
religion as may be seen by those
around us, I will not omit the one

which I have always regarded as most
decisive that guard before the door
of our lips which keeps back the bitter
word, the sharp retort, the unkind
accusation. "Greater is he that ruleth
his spirit than he that taketh a city,"
was said in the time of old. And
wiser and better is she who at home
can give honour to whom honour is
due, and conquer her own self-will,
and speak only the words of truth and
gentleness, than if her days were spent
in the observance of continually recur-
ring services, her time given up to
"work" for the Church or for the poor,
her thoughts absorbed by schemes of
usefulness, commendable in their pro-
per place, but not the first duties of
the daughter who still dwells as a
child beneath her parents' roof.


.Perhaps I may be more inclined to
distrust these first blossoms of youth-
ful piety, because I still cherish the
sad remembrance of a friend whom I
dearly loved, and who began life much
as these young people are beginning
it, with the same ardour, the same
apparent interest in heavenly things,
the same resolve to "quit" themselves
as good soldiers of Christ Jesus. Her
history, alas! is no uncommon one;
and I give it as a warning, not an
example, to you, young reader, if, with
earnest intention and active effort, you
are already declaring yourself for the
good cause, and are looking forward
to a life which shall be spent, as you
hope, in doing His will, whose you
are and whom now you desire to


Lucy Westbrook was not one of
my companions at school, but our
parents were on terms of intimacy,
and we had been friends and play-
mates from our childhood. She was
a girl of some talent, combined with
an amiable disposition, a pleasing ap-
pearance, and very attractive manners.
Her education had been conducted
with a care that was comparatively
unusual in the days of which I write,
and thus her natural advantages had
been cultivated and improved.
When, at the age of seventeen, she
finally returned from school, our inter-
course was renewed; and as religion
was obtaining a growing influence over
my mind, I was exceedingly gratified
when I made the gradual discovery
that on this important point our senti-


ments were congenial. Having been
long under the care of enlightened
and conscientious teachers, Lucy was
so greatly superior to myself in the
knowledge of scripture truth, that I
could resort to her in my difficulties,
and make her the confidant of feelings
which were revealed to none beside.
The remembrance of some of our
conversations, though saddened by
regret, is pleasant to me even at this
distant day; for we took sweet counsel
together, and walked to the house of
God in company, during that happy
season of my youth when I was be-
ginning to learn something of my
Saviour's love; and I can never look
back to those days without a tender
recollection of the friend who was then
my comforter, my guide, my ideal of


whatever was to be imitated and
Lucy joined herself in acknowledged
communion with the people of God,
and at this time, although she may
have been self-deceived, she certainly
seemed sincere. She entered with
untiring energy into many religious or
benevolent undertakings; she gave aid
that was fully appreciated, and often
knew herself to be commended by
persons whose notice in itself was
praise. In this, perhaps, she found
the temptation which proved most
fatal. Satisfied with the knowledge
she had gained--though knowledge
alone can never save the soul-she
may have neglected to keep watch
over a treacherous heart, and permitted
herself to value the praise of men


more than the honour which cometh
from God only.
It was a gradual change, but after
a time, as she subsequently owned to
me, this became, at first unconsciously,
the prevailing motive of her actions.
And then, though it was easy in re-
ligious society to talk of Christ and
spiritual things, it was a difficulty con-
tinually increasing to maintain this
tone, and to act consistently amongst
companions of another cast, whose
good opinion she was scarcely less
desirous to gain. We can never re-
concile religion and the world. If we
would be earnest and true-hearted,
one or the other must be given up.
There is indeed a false system of out-
ward observance, now more than ever
in repute, which may seem to unite


the two; but a religion that does not
reach the heart can give no support in
the day of trial, and when life and its
illusions fade away, the desolate soul
is left without comfort, and, unless
God's infinite mercy interposes at the
last, without the Christian's sure, abid-
ing hope.
The parents of Lucy Westbrook
were wealthy, and she was their only
child. Though too indulgent to op-
pose her wishes, they had never been
favourable to those ideas of duty that
in her earliest youth had led her to
avoid the scenes and the society which
they thought her so well fitted to
adorn; and perhaps it was no subject
of regret to them when, after the lapse
of a few years, circumstances occa-
sioned their removal to a distant


county, and thus separated Lucy from
the immediate influence of her Chris-
tian friends. Introduced to new asso-
ciates, who found all their interest
and sought their happiness in this life
only, and having little to remind her
of higher aims and hopes, she would
yet have been safe if, with self-distrust
and a holy fear of sin, she had looked
to Him whose promised help will
never fail. But she neglected secret
prayer; she allowed herself to take
part in scenes and pleasures which had
the effect of chaining her affections to
earth; and she was tempted to com-
pliances and concessions one. after
another, until every distinctive cha-
racteristic of the real follower of Christ
had disappeared.
In course of time we heard that


Lucy Westbrook had married prosper-
ously, according to the ordinary ac-
ceptation of the words; and then at
distant intervals tidings reached us of
the high estimation in which she was
held, the extent of her influence, and
the abundant wealth which seemed to
ensure for her every enjoyment. But
with all this I knew that Lucy could
not be happy; for as it .has been well
said by one who had drained the cup
of earthly pleasure-" God has made
us for Himself, and the heart has no
rest till it reaches to Him."
This solemn truth I heard confirmed,
in other words, from Lucy Westbrook's
own lips. It happened many years
ago that I was staying at the seaside
with an invalid friend, and there unex-
pectedly encountered my early com-


panion and counsellor. She spent a
few hours with me one day alone; and
former feelings reviving at the sight
of one whom she had loved and trusted
in her happiest days, she unfolded to
me her secret griefs, confessing that,
since she had forsaken the fountain
of living waters," her life had passed
in one long search for peace which
she could never find.
I pitied her from my heart when
I heard her speak of the hollowness
of those pleasures which, seen from
the outside, are so alluring to the
young; and while she wept bitter
tears, I tried to remind her of One
who still loves though we forsake, and
whose promises are for the weary and
heavy-laden. At parting, she earnestly
entreated to be remembered in my


prayers, and said that she would again
begin to pray for herself. I do not
know whether she kept her word,
for she never fulfilled her intention of
writing to me, and when I wrote to
her, no answer came.
Long years passed on I seldom
heard her name-- and absorbed in
other interests, the thought of Lucy
Westbrook did not often recur to me.
It has been since I came to my pre-
sent secluded home that I have re-
ceived the tidings of her death, con-
veyed to me in a kind letter from one
of her daughters, and accompanied by
the Book of Psalms in large print,
suited to aged eyes, sent to me, the
writer added, at her mother's dying
request. This book bears the marks
of frequent usage, and though I would


fain have received a more direct testi-
mony that poor Lucy found pardon
and "light" at the "evening time," yet
I trust it was sent to me as a token
of more than remembrance, as a mes-
senger to tell me of mercy sought and
found, perhaps before the eleventh
I do not tell you, young reader,
that the Christian's path is an easy
one. There are dangers on every
side; and the story of Lucy West-
brook may warn you against the de-
lusive belief that the victory is gained,
when in reality the warfare has only
just begun. You must maintain a
constant watch against your spiritual
enemies, or, before you are aware, you
will find yourself on forbidden ground.
But is it therefore a hard service that


you have entered upon, if you are
indeed a follower of Jesus ? Your
own heart answers the inquiry. You
know, even now, that there is a hap-
piness in religion which words are
powerless to express-that there is a
"peace which passeth all understand-
ing." Resolve then again, and more
earnestly than ever, with humble de-
pendence in the sustaining grace of
the Holy Spirit, that you will be
" faithful unto death ;" and the crown
of life," which the Saviour's blood has
purchased, shall be your "exceeding
great reward."


HAVE told my readers of my first
journey to school. Let me
now recall from the far-distant past the
evening before I left Mount Pleasant,
a light-hearted, but not a thoughtless
girl of sixteen, with many very serious
faults, but with good desires, which the
counsels of wise and loving friends at
this crisis confirmed to earnest purpose.
It was in the early twilight of a
December afternoon-for in my time
we kept the old-fashioned holidays of
Midsummer and Christmas-and after
5 ^


practising my last music-lesson as long
as I could see to read a note, I had just
shut down the pianoforte, with an odd
feeling compounded of regret and satis-
faction, when the door opened to ad-
mit a frequent and honoured visitor
-the good clergyman whom I have
mentioned before as our instructor
and friend. His grave face lighted
up with a smile as he shook hands, for
many a long talk he had held with me,
and many a word of advice had he
given to me during the years that I
had been at school.
But the grave look came back in
a moment, as he remembered, perhaps,
that this had been my last day at
school, for not only the name, but the
character and circumstances of each
of the elder girls were known to Mr.


Seymour. More than once during the
half-year that was just ended, he had
talked to me of the new chapter in
my life's history which was approach-
ing, and had urged me to take for my
motto- This one thing I do--I
press toward the mark for the prize
of the high calling of God in Christ
I cannot now recall the words in
which for the last time he sought to
deepen the impression that my mind
had long ago received from his affec-
tionate admonitions; but their effect,
as I well remember, was to send me,
silently and in tears, to my own room,
where, kneeling down at the bedside,
I buried my face in my hands, and
made that final resolve of giving my
whole life to God, which, though too


often broken in act, yet, I may re-
verently say, through the keeping of
the Holy Spirit, has never been de-
liberately or permanently s't aside.
And so I took my farewell of school,
and returned home next day, strong in
my determination to confess the faith
of Christ crucified, and to fight man-
fully under His banner against sin, the
world, and the devil. Yes, to fight.
It seemed to me a matter of course,
and part and parcel of my religion,
that I must put myself in opposition,
that Inmust protest against many things,
and sometimes condemn other people,
and that as an inevitable consequence
I must suffer persecution. It did not
strike me that while I was compara-
tively but a child in my father's house,
it might be my duty for the present


simply to obey, it must be my duty to
refrain from censuring others, or from
seeking to make my conscience, or even
my understanding of scripture, their
standard of right and wrong. It was
the fault of my inexperience; yet even
while I make the confession as a warn-
ing to young readers, I look upon it
with an indulgent remembrance, for it
was an error on the right side, though
certainly an error, but far less serious
than that universal compromise which
in these days oversteps every boundary
line, and leaves no outward distinction
between those who live for another
world and those who are content with
If my dear mother had lived till
that time she would have guided me
to the right course, and would doubt-


less have pointed out to me that I
could not always be the best judge of
my real duty, or of the time and man-
ner in which that duty must be fulfilled.
But I had lost her some years before;
and her place in our small, quiet house-
hold, was occupied by an elder sister
of my father's, who, with well-meant,
though mistaken severity, held over
me an iron rule. My aunt had not
much patience with any ways of think-
ing which differed from her own, and so
it happened that on the second morn-
ing after my return, the storm which
I had anticipated began to gather.
Immediately after breakiast, my aunt
went to give her directions in the
kitchen; and my turn coming next,
she brought from the store-closet a
large roll of linen and laid it on the


table, intending to show me the way
to cut it up into a set of shirts for my
father, according to the notable and
excellent custom of those days, when
young ladies of my class in life con-
sidered it no disgrace to employ their
fingers in plain and useful work. I
had heard of these shirts before, and
intended to set about them with a good
grace; but not expecting to be called
upon immediately, and having some
private resolutions of my own to be
carried out, I had taken the opportu-
nity of my aunt's absence to retreat to
my own room, where I sat by the open
window, quietly reading my morning
chapter out of the Bible, never dream-
ing of giving offence to any one, till
I was suddenly and unceremoniously


In came my aunt, and casting a look
of indignation around the room, where
books and writing materials, and one
or two unfinished bits of "fancy-work"
were, I confess it, scattered in some
confusion-" Let us come to an under-
standing, Kate," she said, "and begin
as we are to go on. You have left
school now, and I shall expect you
to give your mind to your domestic
"I am coming presently, aunt," I
replied. "I only wanted to read a
little quietly by myself."
What book have you there ?" she
asked, in the same sharp tone, too
angry to observe its peculiar shape
and appearance. It is time now, I
think, that you laid aside books for
things of more importance."


It is the Bible," I answered, with
a deepening colour. I must not be
ashamed of my religion," I said to my-
self. My aunt was silenced for a
"There is a time for all things,"
she' returned, after a little pause. To
do your duty in the state of life to
which it has pleased God to call you,
should be your first care."
"Aunt," said I, with a great effort,
" I wish to be religious. I think my
first care should be how I may serve
and please God."
Speak rationally, if you can," said
my aunt, very angrily, "and be good
enough also to remember that we are
not heathens. In my humble judg-
ment, to discharge in a proper manner
the duties of life is the best proof of


religion, and the true way to serve and
please God."
I had not courage to contend further,
or even to explain; so, feeling myself
cruelly misunderstood, I rose to put
my Bible on the little bookshelf, and
silently followed my aunt downstairs,
neither of us, of course, in the best
temper for measuring lengths and
drawing threads, work which to this
day I think sufficiently tiresome to
require both a cheerful mood and a
pleasant companion.
Now this was precisely the oppor-
tunity for proving the sincerity of my
good intentions, if I had known how
to avail myself of it. The ornament
of a meek and quiet spirit never seems
more undeniably to bear a likeness to
"the mind that was in Christ Jesus"


than when the will has been crossed
in an effort to do right. But it is a
lesson which the Holy Spirit teaches
very gradually, and often by means of
sorrow and bitter trial.
And so we went through the dull
work of the morning, scarcely ex-
changing a sentence; my aunt main-
taining a displeased silence, while I
was condoling with myself as a martyr,
already suffering persecution on ac-
count of my religion. I smile at the
remembrance of my first trial, and the
reader may smile also, seeing how easily
it might have been avoided by a little
discretion on my side, and a few kindly
words of counsel from my aunt.
The words of counsel came to me,
however, from another quarter. It
may be only step by step, as it were,


but I have always seen that the way
of duty is made plain to the earnest-
minded and sincere. Then shall ye
know, if ye follow on to know the
Lord," is a promise which comprehends
not only the highest spiritual teaching,
but guidance in the common duties
and daily experience of life.
That same evening a small party of
my aunt's friends had been invited,
and with them came a young visitor, a
very few years in advance of myself,
just old enough for me to think her
opinion of importance, and not too old
to enter with perfect sympathy into
troubles of mine.
Sarah Trevanion and I had met
occasionally before this, when she was
staying with relatives in our town, and
she had shown me many small kind-


nesses in my childhood, sometimes
giving me a word of advice, so that we
naturally drew together as old friends;
and when our elders were settled
gossiping at a table, from which we
were without any ceremony excluded,
we went quietly into the shade of the
back drawing-room, and fell into a
long talk by the firelight.
Till now I had not presumed to
speak to Sarah on terms of equality,
but I was becoming alive to the im-
portance of having left school. Are
your friends religious ?" I asked her,
after we had compared our sentiments
on various points, and found a general
agreement; "if so, it will be a great
help to you. My aunt, I am afraid, is
altogether worldly, and will only throw
difficulties in my way."


You cannot be sure of that," re-
plied Sarah, speaking in a low, gentle
way, that was habitual to her. And
don't let us forget, Kate, that to think
of others with charity, and to hope the
best of them, is one of our first duties."
"You shall judge for yourself whe-
ther I am uncharitable," said I; and
then I related the occurrence of the
Sarah pondered over it for a moment.
" If I may just say what I think- "
She paused, and looked in my face
with a smile.
"Say anything you like," I answered,
readily. "What I require now is a
kind, true friend."
"Suppose you had risen half an
hour earlier, and given yourself time
to read before going downstairs."


I could not help laughing at this
simple solution of my difficulty. "But
with the mornings so dark and cold,"
I said, giving a little shiver, "it would
be so much more comfortable to take
the half-hour after breakfast."
"I see that you agree with me,"
said Sarah, "for you would never
seriously use an argument like that;
and to-morrow morning you will be
up with the first streak of daylight."
I assented. "But there will be
other things," I continued, anxiously.
"My aunt does not care about religion
-really, I mean : of course she goes to
God's house, and reads a good book
on Sunday, but that is all."
How do you know that is all?"
asked Sarah. I glanced through the
open folding doors at the party in


the adjoining room as a sufficient an-
I understand," said she, thought-
fully; it does seem hard to reconcile.
But one thing is certain, we are not to
judge other people; and, so young as
we are, we do not always know what
is right."
The Bible tells us," said I, decid-
edly, with a misgiving that my friend
was inclined to be half-hearted."
Yes, the Bible tells us," answered
Sarah, in a reverent tone, "and the
Holy Spirit will lead us aright, if we
seek humbly for His teaching. But
it is not for us to set down this or that
action as contrary to God's word, or
to say there can have been no real
turning to Him while certain things are
still permitted-at least, not yet. You


and I must wait, I think, until we
ourselves have been more deeply
taught. We must ask for a humble
and teachable spirit. The meek will
He guide in judgment."
But," I persisted, "we have a battle
to fight against sin, the world, and the
devil. When is it to begin, if we are
to conform to all the sinful ways of
other people ?"
My dear Kate," replied Sarah, I
did not say we must conform to any
sinful ways; but I think we should
be very circumspect, very careful how
we assume for our own convictions of
duty all the authority of a Divine
command: above all, while we strive
to make a straight path for our own
feet, let us beware how we censure
those older than ourselves. We see


the outward act; we do not knoow
what goes on within what sorrow
may be left for the sin of a harsh
word. We have heard the word, but
we know nothing of the repentance.
And the Saviour may have been sought
and found by those who would never
speak of such sacred things to you or
me. What we have to do is to follow
Christ for ourselves, humbly, quietly,
without pretension. The kingdom of
God,' you know, 'cometh not with
observation.' We shall make many
mistakes; but I think we shall be safer,
for the present, not to set up for our-
selves, as it were; to let others think
for and order us a few years longer.
It we seek to serve Him truly, we
may trust God to bring us into the
right way."


You mean that, right or wrong,
I am to do just what my aunt bids me,
as if I were a child ?"
"Are you not a little perverse ?"
returned Sarah, smiling again, though
I was not inclined to smile. Your
aunt is not likely to ask you to do
anything morally wrong anything
against the clear and positive com-
mands of God. If even a father or
a mother should do that, we ought not
to obey. But there are so many things
that are doubtful, t!lings that depend
very much on the spirit in which we
do them, to make them right or wrong;
and in these I cannot help thinking it is
safer, as I have just said, for the pre-
sent, to let others rule. God will show
us the way in His own good time;
and meanwhile you know we have


many duties, about which there can be
no mistake."
Perhaps I still thought my friend
inclined to be half-hearted; yet I knew
her to be so good, so humble-minded,
so superior in all things to myself, that
I could listen to her only with respect.
I did more than this, however-I kept
her words in my memory; and there
were times, long afterwards, when the
recollection of her advice aided me to
practise that submission which is often
our appointed discipline, while it is
certainly the hardest trial to a strong
will and an ardent, impulsive nature.
But was Sarah Trevanion indeed
"half-hearted" when she counselled
me to submit myself to those whom
God had set in authority over me ?
An active, devoted, consistent life,


given up to the service of God, has
shown how much I was mistaken if for
a moment I thought she wished to re-
concile what His word has put asunder.
And often since, when tracing together
the way by which our Father has led
us, we have smiled at the brief mis-
trust which I have not scrupled to
confess, and Sarah has said that my
youthful zeal led her to a closer ex-
amination of her own motives; while I
have had abundant reason thankfully
to acknowledge that not then only, but
many a time afterwards, I have found
in her a faithful, loving counsellor and

And thus I bring these simple
sketches to a close. As heart an-
swereth to heart, now as of old, let me


hope that in my recollections of long-
past days some young wayfarer may
find a guiding word, some child of the
kingdom may be led, though but one
step, nearer to the home above.


UR school broke up last week for
the harvest holidays; and with
the examination, the giving of rewards,
and the tea and plum-cake afterwards,
it was a busy time, I assure you.
Several of the girls had chapters of
Scripture to repeat, which they had
learned of their own accord; and there
was needlework to be looked at, and
there were copybooks and sums to be
examined. Some of the children were
commended for trying to improve;
while the faults of others were kindly


pointed out to them; and they were
told the way to do better for the time
to come.
Jessie Maythorn was there, looking
so neat and so modest; the first in the
Bible-class, and the best workwoman
in the school. Every one was sorry
to hear that Jessie was going to leave;
but her mother has heard of a place
for her at Farmer Brown's, where she
is wanted to nurse the baby, and to
mind the other little one that has just
begun to run alone : so that, sorry as
we are to part with her, it cannot
be helped, and Jessie must go. Her
mother is a poor, hard-working widow,
and she is thankful that Jessie has an
opportunity of earning her own living;
though, if she had been better off, she
would gladly have kept her longer at
school. It is a great comfort that Jessie
has made such good use of her time;


and we hope she will continue to think
of the instructions she has received, so
that the knowledge she has gained at
school may be a blessing to her as long
as she lives. Her mother hopes to
take her place once on the Lord's day,
so that Jessie may still attend the
As long as she lives!-Yes, and after
death, if Jessie seeks for grace to spend
her days in the fear of God. She has
learned at school that her soul can
never die. Her body must be some
time laid in the narrow grave, to moul-
der, and decay, and turn to dust; -but
her soul will live for hundreds and
thousands of years, and for evermore,
either in heaven with God and happy
spirits, or in hell with the devil and
his angels. Jessie knows that she is
a sinner, and does not deserve to go
to heaven; but she has learned to read

her Bible, which tells her that Christ
Jesus came into the world to save sin-
ners, and died on the cross for us,
so that all who believe in Him may
find mercy and forgiveness for His
sake. She has been taught to ask
that the Holy Spirit would change her
evil nature, and take away the love of
sin from her heart; and we trust that
she will seek for this in earnest, by
daily prayer, for then we know that
God will hear. As it is written in
His word, A new heart also will I
give you, and a new spirit will I put
within you : and I will take away the
stony heart out of your flesh, and
I will give you an heart of flesh."
(Ezek. xxxvi. 26.)
But it will be of no use that Jessie
has learned all this; it will be of no
use that she can say so many hymns,
and knows so many chapters by heart;

ji -- MAYTIIORN. 93

it will be of no use, I say, or rather it
will be worse than useless, if she goes
away and becomes forgetful of good
things, and does not pray to be kept
from sin, nor strive to do what is
right. Oh, remember this, young
reader! Mere head-knowledge will
never make you a child of God. The
work of grace must be carried on in
your heart. You must go to Christ
with true sorrow for your .sins, and
a real desire to forsake them, or you
can have no claim upon the promises
of God, and no right to expect His
I wish you could have seen Jessie
as she went up, smiling and blushing,
to the kind friends who visited the
school that day It was pleasant to
watch the little maiden, how earnest
and thoughtful she looked when they
1._.1 to her about the important step


that she was to take in leaving school
and going to service; and admonished
her to be diligent and obedient, "as
the servant of Christ, doing the will
of God from the heart." (Eph. vi. 6.)
It was pleasant to see her grateful
courtesy, when the nice new book was
put into her hand, The Young Ser-
vant," which is only given to those
who have attended regularly at school,
and leave it with a good character at
But more encouraging and delight-
ful than all it was to see the tears
stealing down her cheek, when the
kind ladies told her that they should
watch over her future conduct, with
an earnest desire that Jesus might be
her friend and Saviour, to keep her in
the right way; and when they said
that nothing which she could do would
give them half so much pleasure as


to see her steadfastly bearing in mind
the lessons she had been taught at
school, loving the house of God, and
shunning evil companions, and caring
abve all things for the one thing
needful," which is the salvation of
the soul.
And now you may fancy Jessie at
her new place, in her dark stuff frock
and clean pinafore, with the baby,
which she already dearly loves, lying
upon her knee. Perhaps she is think-
ing of the important duties that she
has undertaken; and, indeed it is no
light matter to have the charge of
little children. The pious and careful
nursemaid will be anxious to bring
them up for heaven; and will be as
watchful to keep sin away from their
souls, as to preserve their bodies from
harm. May Jessie seek for Divine
help to do her duty in that state of


life to which it has pleased God to call
her; and the Saviour who loves the
simple and humble in heart will direct
her in all her ways.




University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs