stine reigned a veritable tyrant in her home. Every maid servant and even the coachman quailed before her. Every member of the family literally gave in to her. Would Ruth do this? She thought not; for, she said to herself: "It would be just as bad for me to indulge her in a fault as it would be to do wrong myself." And so the two began together, each measuring the other's strength. One or the other must yield at every point. Which would it be? the question remained to be answered in the days to come. Being an only child, bereft of a mother's love and care, left to the charge of a wealthy and indolent father, Marie had come up in life with little or no restraint upon her. Poor girl! She was not only starving for a mother's love, but was tempted with all the evils that wealth could place before her. Who can wonder that the children of the rich fall into diverse temptations and so often go wrong, since no restraint is thrown around them, and the very bulwark of society a snare? In this case the thing that Ruth most wondered at was that the child was even so good and true as she was; for in her better moments Ruth could detect great depths of character-shattered and uncertain, to be sure-yet not hopeless. Thus with the tact of one older in years, this gentle girl began to ply thought in Marie's case; or in other words, to plant little seeds of love, watering them with her own sunny spirit that they might sprout and grow to strengthen and ennoble the character of her charge.

A few evenings after her entrance into the home, Ruth was assisting Marie to disrobe, when the latter spoke to her in a very unkind and uncomplimentary manner, for she was doing her very best to please. Ruth stood apart with a look of surprise and superiority upon her face, which look was intended to inspire the child with respect and cause her to repent. Marie was in a rage, and fairly

screamed with indignation as she exclaimed: "You mean thing! I won't let such an ugly girl as you come near me! I will discharge you to-morrow!"

Ruth had never in her life seen a child in such a rage, and did not know that one could display such madness. At length, she exclaimed: "Oh, Miss Marie, just look in the mirror and see your face! Which one of us do you

think looks the more ugly at this moment?"

The request was concise and well ordered. Marie rendered obedience and the effect was miraculous, for seeing her own face distorted with rage, and Ruth's wreathed in smiles, she at once became crimson with shame and burst into tears. She found herself helpless, and said: "Please, Ruth, won't you help me?"

This was an opportunity that the maid could not well afford to lose and she very gently replied: "Will you promise that you will not do it again?"

Immediately the child's arms were thrown around Ruth's neck, and after the manner of penitent childhood, they kissed and made up, while a sincere promise was given by the young mistress "Never, never to speak so unkindly again."

This was a turning point in Marie's life, and young though Ruth was, yet she strove at all times to wield a mother's influence over the girl and make of her the noble woman that God had intended her to be.

From this time a real friendship began to exist between maid and mistress which was sweet and bid fair to be of lasting duration. Thus the arrival of Ruth Mansfield at the mansion brought a herald of joy to the entire household. It has been said by the immortal Beecher that "there is no place easy in the various avenues of labor," so indeed our heroine of this story found it in the new part she was playing in this drama of life. But perhaps

the hardest trial to her in her first day's experience was at that moment when she came to take her seat at the table with the servants of the household. She had never before associated with uncultured and illiterate people, and until now she did not realize what a distinct line there was drawn between Capital and Labor. For a moment she bowed her head and asked herself to which of the classes she rightfully belonged. Was she thus to be ostracized from the cultured and gentle people of the world? Should she flee from the position and strive to make her way through the world by some other means of livelihood? The tempter came who had assailed her twice before; should she listen? What a plausible story he was telling her! She could still hold her position in society and perhaps go on with her studies. But only for a moment did she permit this monster to linger near her soul, for at his approach her pure spirit revolted and the very thought was repugnant to her. "No!" she said. "A thousand times, no! I will abide my lot and trust in God who has led me here for 'He doeth all things well.'"

Then she took the inmates of the household and weighed them in the balance; for a moment only they hung there, and then Capital went up and Labor came down because love and humanity were on its side. A peaceful glow, which was the light of the Holy Spirit, illuminated her countenance and a glad look rested upon her face for she saw her duty clearly, and she realized that God was leading her by the way. At length, she mentally ejaculated, as though she were addressing a spirit at variance with her God, "We must succumb to the inevitable and work for the toiling masses."

For a moment she looked far away in advance of her day and time, and thought there must be somewhere in the future a general round-up in society-a time when

Labor shall receive its just reward—a time when Capital and Labor would rest upon the same social footing together.

What a victory that would be! Ruth smiled joyously and as she raised her head from meditation she was accosted by old Jerry, the gardener, who said: "Miss Ruth, be ye a sayin' grace? Yer face bes a lookin' as sanctmonious as a deacon's."

Ruth smiled back at the merry old man who was just bubbling over with good humor, and replied: "No, Jerry, I am sorry to say I was not; but I think since you have mentioned it, that we would all be happier and better if we would acknowledge God in all our ways." Ruth could not eat, and therefore while her work-fellows were enjoying the repast, she was trying to think of some plan whereby she could benefit this group of colaborers and make them better for her association with them.

It is a faithful saying that “A soul, like books, with true merit within, always finds some who appreciate its worth." And so as Ruth sat that day in their midst, her real worth was being measured by them, and the influence of her cultured spirit had already made its impress felt upon every heart. As they arose from the table, Jerry came and stood by her side and said: "Miss Ruth, I sees by yer make-up that yer hain't ben accustomed ter service, and me heart bes sorry fer ye, me lassie, fer me knows how thorny yer path will be in this 'ouse. But remember, me gurl, as how old Jerry am yer friend, and ef yer has any trouble jes come ter me and I will gi yer me counsel.”

Ruth smiled at this plain, awkward speech that had been made in the hearing of all and kindly thanked the good old man who had thus taken such a fatherly interest in her. And as she passed out from the room, she heard him say: "Jes yer wait till that divil, Mr. Harry, comes

back an'd the gurl will know what I bes meanin' fer her."

As Ruth laid her head upon her pillow that night, she was turning over in her mind the experiences of the day and wondering what manner of warning old Jerry was trying to give her and what he could have meant about things in the house that would not be pleasant to hear. But being of a guileless nature, she was not one to meet unpleasantnesses before they came, and after breathing her evening prayer she felt an assurance of rest and security steal over her spirit, and as she merged into dreamland, her meditations were: "My mother's God will care for her child."