pounds raised the other day could have been obtained in any

"And why not, my dear young friend? If there be a call for increased exertion, let it be responded to; let every one just pay down the money they give at a bazaar: there will certainly be less eclat about it in that way, but the end will be gained without the weight of so much cumbrous machinery. When I was very young I heard a sermon that impressed me very much; I remember nothing of it now, perhaps it was not worth remembering, but the text seemed to me to be one I had never heard before; and after all, is not the great end of preaching to make us feel the force of the text? It was this, 'He that giveth, let him do it with simplicity.' Now, as bazaars are at present constituted, simplicity is the last thing desired. Oh! the other day, as I turned the corner of the Abbeygate and heard the sound of the drums and trumpets, how could I help thinking of the hypocrites sounding a trumpet before them when they give their alms. How does it accord with our Lord's express command, that we should not do our alms to be seen of men, when we attract public notice to the fact by placards on the walls and flying banners ?”

"But surely, grandpapa, many, very good people, approve of bazaars surely you will not condemn them all."

:

"Far be it from me, Catherine, to sit in judgment upon many wiser and better men than myself. But we must not plead that we are only following the good example of a good person, when we follow their weaknesses. Many I am convinced see the plausible advantages of this way of raising money, and never send a thought to dive beneath the stream of custom. 'Happy is he that condemneth not himself in the thing which he alloweth,' and I certainly should stand self-condemned did I give my sanction to them."

"But you have plenty of money to give away," said Catherine, "it is so different with us that we should have nothing worth giving if it were only given in money."

"Tell me then," said her grandmamma, "how much money

did

you spend in materials.”

"About ten shillings."

"Then why not have given the ten shillings at once?"

"Because I should not have had it to give; mamma gave

it

me nearly all, on purpose to buy materials with, and the value of my time and ingenuity was to be added, so as to make it much more."

Emma gave a deep sigh as she thought of her spoiled work, and then said, "I am so puzzled about the subject of charity, it seems that girls like us can give so little."

"Little money, perhaps," said Mrs. Simpson; "but that is often the least part of charity: of course I am speaking merely of temporal relief. There is often more true charity in giving employment than money; and a conscientious mind will employ those who need it most-will sacrifice something in the style of a dress, or a bonnet, in order to procure it where the order will really be a boon. I knew one benevolent lady who always made a point of going to newly-established shops; she thought those which were in possession of a well-established business would get on without her; and I doubt not that in this way she has gladdened many a heart."

"You and grandpapa," said Catherine, "seem to make every thing a matter of conscience. I wish every one did; but I never thought before, it would signify to me where I bought a thing."

"We are commanded," said Mr. Simpson, "whether we eat or drink, to do all to the glory of God, and if so, surely buying and selling, which occur almost as often as eating and drinking, are worthy our serious thought."

"The motive is every thing," said Mrs. Simpson. "Often in my busy days, when I have had domestic occupations pressing upon me, have the quaint words of Herbert occurred to me,

'Who sweeps a room, as to Thy praise,

Makes that and th' action fine,'

and when we reflect how small the relative difference must appear in God's sight, between what we call great and what we call small, it will help to rectify our notions on this subject. The record of the poor widow's gift to the treasury of her two mites, seems given on purpose to cheer the hearts of those who have but little to bestow, with the consideration that it is not how much but how we give, that our Saviour regards."

"A cup of cold water," said Mr. Simpson, "which in the ordinary acceptation of the term, costs nothing, is another illustration used; for there we are distinctly shewn that its value is

derived from the motive that prompts the giver. But we must never lose sight of the primitive meaning of the word 'charity,' which is love. And until our hearts are filled with love to Him from whom all our blessings flow, we shall have few overflowings for others; but in proportion as this is the case, shall we, as we have freely received, freely impart of our abundance, whether that abundance be in money, talents, or time. And, while acknowledging that we give but of what is entrusted to us, we shall endeavor as much as we can to make ourselves occupy the least prominent position possible.”

It was now time for the girls to return home, and taking an affectionate leave of Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, they set out on their homeward walk, which appeared only too short, so much had they to remark upon all they had heard that morning.

L. N.

THE THREE WORDS.

As the evening closed round our quiet home, the storm subsided and a sharp frost set in. The moon, too, looked with a cold, watery light through the hazy atmosphere, and the night was by no means so fearful as might have been anticipated.

Safely housed in our little dwelling, it seemed to be all the world to our circle, and little did I think at that time of the scenes transacting within some five or six miles, in connection with the previous incidents of that memorable day.

It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening when a carriage might be seen moving rather briskly, but almost noiselessly, up the main street of a neighbouring town. It was neither chariot, nor fly, nor chaise, but resembled a landau, perhaps, more than any other vehicle. The driver was very cold, and the gentleman within it, who was well wrapped up, appeared to be cold also; but the horse, as he pressed on, jerking his head forward at every movement, for he had no bearing-rein, smoked as if heated by over-work, coughing painfully as he drew up before the entrance of the best inn in the place. The heavy wooden boots of the ostler, as he bounded out of the stable, and ran up the gateway to the street, clattered over the pavement, and after the interchange of a few words with the driver, who was not going to

put up there, the stranger alighted, the vehicle turned round very deliberately, as if the horse thought seriously of the matter, and the few loiterers who had crossed the road to stare at the proceedings, walked off again, each of them with his hands in his pockets.

It was with some difficulty that the gentleman procured the necessary assistance, for the house was full of business, and every one, from the principal to poor Boots himself, engaged in some way or other. The ostler, however, took charge of his luggage, which was not very considerable, and the stranger himself walked into a comfortable room, which he was not sorry to find deserted; and having relieved himself of some of his wrappers, and put himself in walking trim, gave a few instructions respecting his return to rest there for the night.

He was preparing to leave the house, when the sound of music up stairs attracted his attention, At first it was the mere clink, clink, clink, thrum, thrum, of a harp; but soon the full orchestra burst forth into some lively tune, and he heard the feet of dancers keeping time to it over head. With such frivolities he had little sympathy, so he left the house, and crossed the street, without making farther enquiry. The foot-pavement opposite the house was crowded (if "crowd" be a term applicable to country towns) with rude fellows staring up at the house he had just quitted.

"'Nother pa'ason, Tom," said a rude fellow on the kerbstone. "Hold y'r tongue, can't ye," said his companion, thrusting his elbow rudely against him.

“Can't ye be quiet," said a third; “he ain't a going to the dance, he ain't."

The gentleman took no notice of this rudeness, but stepped quietly into the road, turning his eyes unconsciously towards the inn opposite. The long range of windows on the first floor appeared to be almost blazing through the gloom, the rest of the front being in shade. The blinds were down, but there was a dance of 'Chinese shadows' checquering the blank surface-heads, and feathers, and half-length figures, passing and repassing, now slowly, and now more rapidly, apparently at the pleasure of the orchestra, for the room being lighted by one immense chandelier in the centre, the company, as they swept to and fro, were completely between that light and the darkness out of doors.

We will not say what reflections this exhibition occasioned in the mind of the stranger. Perhaps, he thought, as many others do, that dancing by rule, and as a matter of necessity, was very like eating to create an appetite, but as he said nothing, we must follow his example.

He walked on, apparently absorbed in thought, till he had left the town a long mile behind him, and was proceeding down a quiet lane leading to a neighbouring village, when he paused before an old fashioned house of red brick, with stone dressings, not unlike those quaint Dutch mansions which you see in pictures, with a church in the distance, and a heavy rustic skating solemnly in the foreground. The moon's light enabled him to see that the house had been recently repaired, but these later touches were evidently in country work, wanting that neatness and finish which distinguish our London houses. There were, however, capping the piers on either side the entrance, a pair of choice ornaments, evidently of metropolitan manufacture. These were two lions, in artificial stone-work, with square heads, tongues hanging out of their mouths, and eyes rolling from their sockets, in the purest style of medieval art. Each of these lions was what the heralds would call sejant, or sitting, with the forepaws stretched out, and holding what appeared to be a heart between them; and they formed, we will presume, the crest, or bearing, of the proprietor of this old fashioned mansion. There it stood, in the faint moon-light, stolid and gloomy, as it could have looked in Holland itself, the snow which covered its high roof, aiding innocently in the deception. The gate was open, and our friend, who was a stranger there, gave a somewhat loud and formal knock. A light, stealing from one of the side windows, and which might have escaped observation had it not rested on the glittering leaves of an arbutus just before it, instantly disappeared, and in a few seconds gleamed from a casement up stairs. The door was not very speedily opened, for it was quite clear that the inmates did not expect visitors at that hour. But after a few enquiries, the gentleman was admitted, and shewn into the room from which the light, as we have just said, had been withdrawn. The servant placed her candle on the table, and the gentleman, after making a few enquiries, took out his card, engraved in a neat hand, with the name of the Rev. William L. Singleton.