and vexation of spirit, she held no parley with the mood. If there came moments when former resolutions were remembered with a secret consciousness that they were not being fulfilled, she found many plausible reasons for singing her monitor to rest. She was not her own mistress, she did what others wished her; she had not placed herself where she was; it was useless to attempt a little good. It had always been her dream to command applause, for the greatness of action which should have its own peculiar platform. She was sure she could walk to the stake, if need be, where there should be crowds to see her die; but at present, till the time was come, she lived a life of pleasurable ease. She knew not, because she had not sought to know, that the ranks of "the noble. army of martyrs" had been filled from among those whose care it had been to "die daily," nor suspected that they who neglected the one, might find in themselves, when put to the test, but little of the spirit of the other.

Nor was it, as she imagined, the fault of circumstances: the excuse has well been called "the devil's masterpiece," for deluding those who will listen to such reasoning. Wherever God has placed His creatures, there, and nowhere else in higher or lower sphere, He looks for their service; for other work He will not want his appointed labourers, to whom He will look for that committed to their charge. Our Lord himself warned the rich of

their peculiar dangers and temptations, but none need withdraw from their natural positions to enable them to serve, if they will, with a true heart and a single aim. Among the countless hosts of heaven, "one star differeth from another star in glory," yet all shew alike their Maker's praise. On earth are the "hills watered from above," whence flow streams of rejoicing for the valleys and the plains. There are high places in life, which as they are of divine appointment, so it is ever to the advantage of all that they be retained. There are lights that may not be hid under a bushel, and the bright and steady beacon, on the lofty headland, guides to a right course many who are struggling in danger, darkness, and distress. In all times there have been noble examples to prove that the wealthy and the great may also be pre-eminently the good.

But in a constant whirl of dissipation, there was no time for such reflections. When Eleanor returned at night from her revels, with a spirit excited by the scenes she had just left, and a body fatigued with her very pleasures, she was in no state to commune with a better mind. The morning saw her rise at a late hour only to renew the intoxicating draught. Could that be good which kept the being from the presence chamber of the Creator? which led from the path abounding in temptations to a prayerless couch? It is a good test whereby to prove the safety of the things in

which we allow ourselves; what is harmless to one may be poison to the other. Let each judge, but judge honestly. It was well for Eleanor that she was not then required to give an account of her entrusted talents. The prayer of Agur was a good one, "Give me neither poverty nor riches," for perhaps the lot which has been cast between the two has the fewest dangers to contend with.

The greater part of life is made up of such small things, that to dwell on the everyday minutiæ which compose the whole is ever tedious and wearisome. As an artist endeavours to convey his idea in the fewest touches, so do we desire by the chief events of the history which we are relating, to shew what manner of spirit was in those of whom we speak.

CHAPTER V.

Old Friends Depart and some Remain.

"My heart goes with thee, dauntless man,

Freely as thou dost hie,

To sojourn with some barbarous clan;
For them to live and die.

"Thou climbs't the vessel's lofty side;
Numbers are gathering there-
The youthful warrior in his pride,
The merchant in his care;

"Hearts that for knowledge track the seas,
Spirits that lightly rove,

Glad as the billows and the breeze,

And thou, the child of love.

-HEWITT.

WHEN Eleanor had been between two and

WHE

three years an inmate of Mrs Harcourt's family, the time arrived at which her brother and Edward Vernon were to leave England, to commence the work for which they had been so long destined. No one acquainted with the two could doubt their fitness for the task they were undertaking. Of high character, and blameless life, combined, in John Harcourt's case

at least, with commanding talents, those who had the missionary cause at heart rejoiced that there had been found two such labourers to send into the fields which were ripening for the harvest. The mental superiority which distinguished his friend, was in Edward Vernon amply compensated for by his sound judgment and unshaken perseverance. The same warmth of zeal animated both alike; and though Edward would laughingly call himself a slow coach compared with John, it would have been hard to say which of the two was likely to prove the most useful.

In John Harcourt was the same brightness of character which distinguished his sister, whom he also resembled in personal appearance. The dark hair, keen eye, and clear complexion were the children's inheritance from their mother. But John, like his friend, had already been subject to disappointment, which had slightly told upon his spirits, and added to the feelings excited by the approaching step of leaving his native country. He had, about two years before, been brought into communication on matters of business with Mr Edgerton, who had perceived the worth of his character, and had taken him home and introduced him to his wife and daughter, whom John already knew by name, as an old companion of his sister. The schoolfellows had heard but little of each other; they had once met, but their paths