excuse for them. These are little things, perhaps you think, but character is made up of such little things; and an alteration in trifles is the surest proof of sincerity and of a thoroughhearted determination to do right. He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much. Will you judge yourself, dear reader, by the subjugation of your own wrong habits and tempers? for the conformation of our daily life to the spirit of God's law is a better test of relation to Him" than if an angel from heaven should open the book of life and bid us read our name there."

I do not mean that Minnie was perfect, far from it. She met with many hindrances and temptations; and did not always run "with patience" the race that was set before her. But yet, on the whole, her path was like that of the just which shineth more and more unto the perfect day. Is that like yours, dear reader? Since her conversation with Mr. Franklyn about selfishness, Minnie had discerned more clearly what the great object of life should be, and what great motive should influence our aim at it. The one, God's glory, the other, love to Christ. Yes, "it is love," as the poet sings, "which makes our cheerful feet in swift obedience move." And as Minnie's love to the Saviour grew stronger, her life became more like His, and her endeavours to conquer self and sin more successful. She made mistakes, of course, as all young beginners do; sometimes through inexperience, and sometimes through ill-disciplined zeal; but she possessed, as I have before said, a kind friend and a faithful monitor in her cousin. The following will serve as a specimen of their consultations and reasonings together.

"I think I waste a great deal of time," said Minnie, looking up from the set of baby's caps she was making for a poor woman, as she sat one evening alone with Edith.

"Do you?" said Edith, smiling, "then I think you had better try to redeem some of it.”

"But I am not sure whether it is waste of time or not. Besides, I'am afraid I can't very well help it."

"Tell me what you mean," replied Edith, "and then I will give you my opinion about it.”

"Well, it seems to me that it is a waste of time to spend it as I often do in music and drawing, and such mere accomplishments. I don't practise a great deal, certainly, but I often feel when I am at the piano, that I should be much better and more usefully employed in visiting the poor, or distributing tracts, or collecting for some society. Surely such engagements would tend more to glorify God."

"I think you are a little mistaken, dear," said Edith, gently, "although your mistake is a very natural one. I remember once

making a similar observation to yours, to the minister whose Church I attended when a child. And he told me-I have never forgotten his words-One of your first objects, Edith, as a child, should be to make home happy. It is as much your duty to cultivate any innocent accomplishment for which you have a natural taste, if you find that by so doing you can afford pleasure to your parents and friends, as it is for you to teach in a sunday school, or to help the needy. Your duties are like the circle of a whirlpool, and the innermost includes home.' Now don't you think, Minnie, that these remarks will apply to you with as much force as they did to me? Your father is very fond of music; he has spared no expense that you might acquire proficiency in it; and you can play very nicely; is it not, therefore, your duty to repay his kindness and augment his enjoyment by giving a reasonable share of time and attention to the piano?

"I suppose it is," said Minnie, slowly, "still Edith, I feel as if I might glorify God more in other ways."

"In what way, dear Minnie, can you better glorify God than in doing your duty, and you admit that this is your duty? I knew a young lady, Minnie, the only member of her family who professed to be governed by religious principles; and she was almost incessantly engaged in going to meetings and lectures, and assisting in various benevolent enterprises. But at home, she was indolent and selfish; taking no part in the innocent amusements and pursuits of her brothers and sisters, and doing nothing to make her religion attractive in the eyes of her parents. She forgot that home should be the centre of our influence, and that from this point we ought to extend it as far as we have time and opportunity. And by the accomplishments, dear Minnie, which you think a waste of time, we may often secure an influence over others which we may use for the promotion of their best interests. Do you recollect how much you wished Claude to hear that sermon at the conclusion of Mr. Franklyn's last week-evening course?

Yes," said Minnie, "he went with us you know."

Through the influence of your music," said Edith, with a smile. "Why! what could that have to do with Claude's going to Church ?"

"Just this. He was not very willing to go, thinking, I dare say, that he should not be much interested; but he said to me, Minnie has been so goodnatured this morning in practising that difficult piece of music on purpose to oblige me, that I really must please her by going with her to Church.' And who can tell, Minnie, what good Claude might get that evening from the sermon ?"

Minnie looked pleased, and then thoughtful. "Oh, Edith," she said, "how nice it is to think that in everything we may glorify God. Why, that is just what the Bible says!" she added, in a tone of half-surprise as the text "Whether, therefore, ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God," occured to her mind.

Edith smiled. "Yes," she said, "that is our 'Book of Principles,' and if we only take them for our guidance, we shall not be likely to go wrong. We shall endeavour, then, to use our accomplishments, and all our talents, not for our own gratification merely, nor to procure admiration and praise for our selves, but for his glory who loved us and gave Himself for us, and to whom we ought to consecrate all that we have, and are."

THE WAY OF HONOUR.

under the influence of consistency with that fruit in his season".

THAT the man, who lives religious faith, and who, in influence, "brings forth his the various virtues becoming his age, his position in society, and the successive relations he sustains in life,

that such a man will have a character, and maintain it, and grow in reputation and honour, is just the natural course and tendency of things in this world of ours, unjust as some people think it, out of joint and rickety as it certainly is. No man is generally or permanently misjudged. None can be entirely mistaken or concealed, whether bad or good. The one like putrid matter, the other "like precious ointment," will diffuse what must betray them. If a man is not actually true and just, he will get suspected and become known, however plausible his manners, smooth his tongue, innocent his look, or clever his transactions—and sometimes the cleverer the sooner. Something strikes some one; an unpleasant idea is somewhat reluctantly admitted; it is kept secret; but somebody else hinting something like it, it finds words, and by-and-by the thing is discovered to have lodgment in many minds;

and so it works, till the individual himself is made unmistakeably aware as to how he stands in public estimation. So, if a man deserve reputation he will have it. If he has never for a moment swerved from the right; if he has always been scrupulously exact and true;-why, nobody will think of saying the contrary. If a man is above suspicion, as a general rule he will not be suspected; people will neither talk of nor treat him as unworthy of confidence. For the most part, almost always in the long-run, men are pretty much what they are thought to be.

It is no easy matter, depend upon it, to escape detection if you try to pass yourselves off for more than you are worth ;-I am speaking of character, not money, though the statement is true to a great extent in relation to it. It is no easy matter, I tell you, to escape being found out, if you contrive to get a reputation that does not belong to you. It belongs to some one else, then,-it is not yours. You are an impostor and a thief; and are living on the credit of stolen property. You will soon be tapped on the shoulder, young man! Society has its moral police, as well as those with blue coats, and bands round their wrists. It has its detectives in plain clothes that are watching and dodging you, when you little think it, and without the possibility of their being observed. But they will cross your path, and stand before you visible and omnipotent, when it is time to act. Depend upon it, in spite of all your secresy and simulation, you will be weighed and measured, have your dimensions taken and your place determined, and will wake up some morning to find yourself at the bar of public opinion, and that all is known you had thought concealed, or that you at least are treated as if it were.

The best way of having a reputation is to deserve it. It is the shortest, quietest, safest, most certain. It is a terrible thing to be living with something hanging over your head, that may come down upon you at

any moment. How much better it is to have no fear to know that there is nothing to come out." "The righteous are bold as a lion "-while "shame is the promotion of fools." A pretty "promotion," indeed! The promotion of the pillory or the gibbet.

Now, mind, there's no chance about this; or very little. Let no man think that reputation is a thing of accident or caprice; that it may fall on the undeserving and the fool, instead of finding out the man of wisdom and virtue. It is a thing regulated by laws almost as determinate as those that regulate the tides. There is very little of "passing in the crowd,” now, any more than there will be at the last day. "To-day, also, is a day of judgment." If you deserve to be thought well of, you will; if you don't, you won't. "The righteous "builds up," by way of natural consequence, "a good name;' foolish and wicked man, in like manner, prevents its erection or "pulls it down with his hands." It cannot be helped, and it ought not to be regretted. The certainty with which disgrace follows dishonour, is only the other side of the same law that gives respect to the deserving.

man

the

Reputation may be of slow growth-but it grows. It can rise to a height, too, and acquire a vigour that no calumny can reach or affect. There are men in London of whom, if anything dishonourable were to be said, it could not be believed; it would be laughed at by all who know them, and would no more be credited than that "the deluge is coming." There are others, also, of whom men will choose to say nothing, but with whom they take good care to have nothing to do.

Mind, it is quite possible for good character to sustain a temporary eclipse. I don't deny that. Misfortune may shade it for a time, or some error of judgment expose it to censure. An exasperated creditor, an inconsiderate friend, the envious, the