It soon came out. "Miss Harrison is a very estimable person, I have no doubt, but it is a pity she does not study a little more propriety in her dress. Such a thick brown silk she had on! better than I ever bought for myself, and a fine worked collar; it is very wrong to spend the money she gets from the society in such expensive articles."

"And the trimming on her sleeves," chimed in the eldest daughter-the gentlest and most amiable looking of the three, to whom I had just turned, in the forlorn hope that she perhaps might be Charity-"it was that expensive kind, just like cousin Charlotte had when she was married. So inconsistent of Miss Harrison, wasn't it?"

Now it is possible that I might have required from my fair complainants some satisfactory proof why a Christian lady, because she is not a missionary, may wear what she chooses; and why a Christian lady, because she is a missionary, must dress with quakerlike simplicity; and I might also have argued, that Miss Harrison's dress was very neat and becoming, had it not been in my power to stop, in another way, Mrs. Arundel's lament over the society's wasted funds.

Well," I said, "do you know I was consulted by Miss Harrison about that very dress."

"And you advised her to purchase it?" interrogated Mrs. Arundel, in a tone which did not imply any high opinion of my consistency.

"Not to purchase it, but to wear it. It was the gift of a friend, who had scarcely worn it at all herself, and was going into mourning; and Miss Harrison, with her usual dread of giving offence to others, and her anxiety to do right, even in trifles, was afraid some persons might think it too costly for her to wear. told her I was sure no one would consider it at all unbecoming; the colour was quiet, and the make, though fashionable, was extremely simple; and as to

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its being a "very good one," why so much the better, it would be the more serviceable, and last out two or three of an inferior quality."

This was my last visit, and I had not yet found Charity. I gave up in despair, at least for that morning; and as I slowly retraced my steps, I began to think that she was a rarer guest in the dwellings of Christian people than I had hitherto supposed. How was it? It could not be the fault of religion-it must be the want of it.

I opened my little garden gate, and a parable which I had once read of a man who set off to seek a certain treasure which he had dreamt of, and who was directed after a fruitless journey to a certain spot where he would find it, which spot proved to be his own home! came all at once into my mind; and a complacent sort of feeling stole over me as I compared myself with the varied characters I had recently studied.

I went in the parlour before going up stairs, and as I stirred the fire-I always stir the fire when I am peculiarly thoughtful-I recollected that I had carelessly laid half a sovereign on the mantel-shelf that morning. I looked; it was gone! "Well," I exclaimed to myself, "Jane must have taken it then,

that's certain; for no one else has been here. Ungrateful girl!"

I drew my handkerchief from my pocket at that moment, and out rolled the identical half sovereign! I had put it in before leaving home, but the circumstance had slipped my memory. As I stooped to pick it up, something whispered very distinctly and emphatically in my ear, Charity thinketh no evil!"

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After all, then, Charity did not live with me!
Dear reader, does she dwell with you?

ELMA.

THE REST OF THE SAINTS.

"Them also which sleep in Jesus," 1 Thess. iv. 14.

How rest the saints in Christ, who sleep
Far from the tempter's power?

While, for their loss, the mourner's weep
In lonely hall and bower.

They rest-unvexed by 'wildering dreams
Of mortal care and woe-

Nor wake to taste the bitter streams
That through these valleys flow.

They rest as sleeps the wearied child
Upon its mother's breast-

Nor foe, nor fear, nor tumult wild,
Invade their peaceful rest.

Then why with grief, from year to year,
Their blessed lot deplore,

And shed the unavailing tear
For those who weep no more?

Ah, rather in their footsteps tread,
With quickened zeal and prayer,
And live, as lived the holy dead,
That ye their rest may share.

EDITH could not tell whether her suggestion, respecting Hetty and her family, had at all influenced her cousin, for she thought it better not to press the subject any more than she had already done, upon Minnie's attention, and, therefore, did not

again allude to it; and Minnie, herself, never mentioned Hetty, and seemed to have forgotten her.

But she had not really forgotten her; on the contrary, since her conversation with Edith, she had often thought about her, and had been very busy in her own mind with various plans, some practicable, and some impracticable, for the child's benefit. Hetty was very ignorant and uneducated, and the difficulty was how to remedy these defects. She could not be spared to go to school, on account of her usefulness at home, or Minnie would willingly have paid the small weekly sum requisite for her instruction. The only way in which she could be taught anything, ap. peared to be by Minnie's undertaking to teach her for an hour or so every day, and, after some deliberation, Minnie determined to give up part of her leisure time for this purpose. If Hetty could learn to read, and write, and work, Minnie thought, and very justly, that she would be much better fitted than she now was for getting on creditably in life.

It was well for Minnie's good resolution that she was unacquainted with the trouble, or, as some people would call it, the drudgery of imparting the first rudiments of education to a dull and untutored child, or it is doubtful if she would have made it. Naturally quick and clever herself, and knowing very little about the habits and capabilities of children, she took it for granted that they learned to read almost as easily as they learned to eat. Hetty would, of course, be glad that is, so far as such a heavy, unimpressible-looking child could be glad—of the nice opportunity thus afforded her for self-improvement; and by her steady progress would soon repay the attention bestowed upon her.

If Minnie could have realized just then, how perfectly indifferent Hetty was about "book-learning; " how little she would appreciate the privilege of having so superior an instructress; and how arduous would be the task of making her distinguish B from D; and of mastering the little letters after the large onesMinnie's system was the old fashioned one; she had not even heard of any other-I am afraid her interest in the contemplated undertaking would have greatly diminished. But, happily unconscious of any impediments or drawbacks, Minnie drew a very pleasing picture to herself of Hetty's rapid progress and general improvement; how her looks, as well as her intellect, would brighten; and how grateful, how very grateful she would be for the pains taken with her. And I am not sure whether Minnie's day-dreams did not extend a few years further; and whether she did not see Hetty grown up into an intelligent, amiable young woman, living in their family as an upper servant; and then marrying a respectable tradesman; and then having a pretty,

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bright-eyed little girl, who from motives of esteem and affection would be named "Minnie."

I do not positively say that she imagined all this, but, if she did, dear reader, you and I have built castles in the air quite as foolish and unsubstantial; perhaps, more so.

A week passed away, and Hetty did not come as usual for the supply of good things with which Mrs. Sutherland's liberal hand regularly furnished her. It was strange; because, like the gene rality of poor people, her father and mother were ready and eager to obtain all they could get from those who were so much better off than themselves; besides, their wants must still be very pressing, as the husband was far from being well enough to work.

"Betsy shall go to their house this evening," said Mrs. Suther land, and carry them the tea and sugar, and see why Hetty has not been; the walk will do her good this fine weather, and I shall feel more satisfied when I know how they are. Poor creatures, they have had a deal to struggle through lately!"

"And grandma," said Minnie, "I think, if you have no objec tion, I shall go with Betsy. I have not been out to-day, so a walk will do me good too; and then, if Hetty is at home, I can arrange when she shall come for her lesson."

Mrs. Sutherland readily assented; indeed it must have been something very objectionable if she could have refused Minnie the gratification of a wish; so after tea Minnie and the servant set off on their benevolent errand. Edith was not sorry that a headache prevented her accompanying them, for she knew and approved of Minnie's educational plans, and she thought that Minnie and Hetty would feel more at ease by themselves.

On their arrival at the poor and untidy dwelling of the Browns, they found the pale, sickly-looking father sitting alone in the little kitchen, for his wife had left him about half an hour previously, to fetch some medicine which the doctor had ordered, and to call on her way back at Mrs. Sutherland's. She had not been able to leave home before. But where was Hetty? Hetty was in bed, very ill. She had caught a violent cold, through being wet through and not changing her things when she came home, and it had settled on her lungs; and she was very bad indeed, her father said; and he didn't believe she would ever be any better, although the doctor told her mother he thought she would get over it; but doctors always made light of everything, and hardly allowed that anybody was ill till they were just going to die. Hetty's father did not seem in a very pleasant humour; he was naturally a fretful-tempered man, and sickness and poverty had not increased his amiability; how should they? Some persons speak of affliction as if it had an inherent power