'I cannot, Lewis. It is just one of those things each of us must settle with his own conscience. There is no rule in the matter. 'I wish you would tell me what I ought ask that he might go to church again in to do, Aunt Mary.' the evening, and put it into the alms-dish then. His request was granted at once; perhaps Miss Allen guessed at his reason for making it, and so she did not like to refuse, though generally she did not take her little nephew to the evening service. St. Paul says in one of his Epistles, that in doubtful cases every one must judge for himself. If we decide honestly and do what we really believe to be right, no one ought to condemn us. But then he adds, "Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind." He says, too, that the thing becomes wrong to the person who does it "with offence "—that is, Lewis, who offends -puts a stumbling-block in the way of his own conscience or of any one else; who does it thinking all the time that it is wrong. And then St. Paul goes on,"Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth."" No more was said on the subject; but Lewis thought of it a great deal during the afternoon, and found it hard to make up his mind what to do. There was no proof that the sixpence had been meant for the collection; or, even if it had, his aunt agreed it was possible another might have been given in its place: she did not say it would be wrong for him to keep it. Then there was the popgun, and the pleasure of showing it to Willy. But on the other hand, it was more than likely that the sixpence had been meant for the Hospital, and that the intended giver had not another to give; and if so, Lewis felt it would not be quite fair to spend it on a toy for himself. Would it not seem like robbing the poor and sick? almost, indeed like taking a thing dedicated to God? The child had a tender conscience, and desired to be blameless in the matter. So, since he was not fully persuaded in his own mind,' since he saw that he could not keep the money without offence,' he resolved to The next morning, as the two were sitting at breakfast, the lady asked, "Well, Lewis, what are you going to do with the sixpence, after all? Is it to be the popgun, or have you thought of something you would like better?' Lewis blushed, and answered, 'Oh, auntie! I gave it at the collection last night!' Did you? Why, I thought it was a penny I saw you put into the plate.' Lewis's cheeks got redder still. Yes, I gave a penny too,' was his reply. 'How was that?' Miss Allen questioned. 'Well, you see, auntie,' explained Lewis, 'I was not giving the sixpence for myself : it was not really mine, you know.' "Oh, I understand! you wanted to give something of your own, too! That was right enough; only now you have spent all your last week's money, I suppose; and I thought you had promised a penny to Polly Bateson, towards a pair of stockings for old Betty Grigg. I almost think, since you had given at the morning collection, that it would have been better to keep the second penny for the stockings: don't you?' "Yes, auntie; but you don't understand. It wasn't that I cared to give again; but, you see, sixpence would have looked so grand for a little boy like me; and I didn't like to make a show of it, when after all it wasn't mine to give. For I couldn't speak up and say how it was; and I shouldn't have liked if I could. So I thought I'd slip it under the penny, and then no one would see. It wasn't deceitful, was it. LETTERS FROM HOME. HE emigrant sits in his lonely hut: The day's work is over, the door is shut, Miss Allen kissed her little nephew His stout arms are tired, and wild is the fondly. No, Lewis,' she said; 'you have done what was right and honest all through, and I am very pleased with you, and I believe God is, too. But what made you settle to give the sixpence after all?' .I think it was,' the boy answered, 'because I couldn't keep it without "offence." You know what you told me St. Paul says?' 'Yes, and are you sorry for what you have done, or are you still of the same mind?' 'Oh, auntie, I am glad, because now I am quite sure I am right. I don't think I should even have enjoyed playing with the popgun very much.' night, So he sits and reads by the candle's light His letters from home. He has read them before, For he's had them now a full month or more: But he reads and reads them over and over, And bring him back to Old England again. near; Farmer Brown is dead, John Smith has a son, 'No. I think, Lewis, you quite understand the text,—“ Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth." And now what is to be done about your subscription to the stocking- And young Giles the prize for ploughing fund? Won't Polly want the money to-day?' 'I thought, auntie, that perhaps you would be so good as to lend me a penny till Saturday. I will be sure to pay you back then.' The penny was lent at once, and Lewis ran off with a light heart to take it to Polly. On his way he passed the toy-shop, and stopped at the window to take a peep. There, among other tempting things, was the popgun he had so wished to buy. has won. And as he reads on there come to his mind So she's to be married to black-eyed Jim, And he's sorry to think he'll not be there To drink the good health of the wedded pair. And this little scrawl with its blots and smears, As he takes it his blue eyes fill with tears, Bring, oh, so distinctly! before his eye 1 AMONG LIONS. (Continued from page 299.) CHAPTER XX. RS. HOLMES did not leave Moor till after Christmas, for several reasons. Firstly, Bell, with her clear, high little voice, had long looked forward to being one of the band who went about in the early Christmas morn singing of the Nativity. She understood now why the thoughts of the Babe born in Bethlehem should make the heart glad, and it was with no empty feeling of pleasure in shining leaves and gay berries that she watched Miss Darell deck the old church for Christmas. She had lived ten years in the world, and yet she had just learnt for the first time that Christmas was marked by aught else than drunken revels in the streets, and more blows and disturbance at home. Master Gilbert, too, had sent word that Bell and Mrs. Holmes were by no means to leave the neighbourhood till he appeared among them, which he did the day before Christmas, looking very bright and happy. Perhaps the book in the gay scarlet binding shut up in his portmanteau had something to do with this, for it was the first prize Gilbert had ever brought home. And half ought to be yours for coaching me at Littleby,' he said to Alice, as he displayed the treasure in triumph. 'The Advance of Civilisation' had proved successful, and Gilbert's name was illuminated on the title-page of the prize volume. 'I am going in for another prize at Easter,' said Gilbert; I am not quite such a lazy chap now as I used to be.' No, it was quite true, Gilbert had made a stride forwards, was conquering his idleness, and, as he said, he owed a good deal to Alice, not only for her assistance, but also for encouraging and cheering him when he faltered, There was yet hope that he might do well at the bar. 'I am sorry I missed all the search,' said Gilbert, as he questioned Mrs. Holmes; 'but you were all very stupid. Think of Alice never finding out last autumn that Bell and your little Mabel were one and the same!' Think of Gilbert the lawyer never finding it out!' said Alice, laughing; 'you were quite as stupid, Gilbert. Now I see why I always seemed to know the look of Mrs. Holmes' eyes; they are just as bright and quick as Bell's. I often wondered who they reminded me of.' It was a happy party who went to church on Christmas Day-all the Swayne children, baby's first appearance since his christening, sitting demurely by Miss Dawkins; the Weirs and Mrs. Holmes, Bell and Johnny. There was another thanksgiving offered up at Mrs. Holmes' request for special mercies vouchsafed to her, and Bell had had it all explained to her, and when the prayer was read she slipped one hand into her grandmother's; the other hand was still round Johnny's neck. And Mrs. Holmes accepted the act as a proof that Bell sympathised with her, and it gladdened the poor woman's heart. 6 Christmas Day was hardly long enough for all Gilbert had to do, for he made a point of putting his head into every cottage and wishing Merry Christmas' to the inmates; which good wish was often accompanied by a toy, or book, or packet of snuff or tobacco, as tastes went, with the young or old. Something to remember me by till Midsummer,' he would say; and the gay, good-tempered boy, was remembered, as a flash of sunshine is in winter-time. Alice Quiet Miss Brett he never forgot she was a great favourite of his, and she owned quite a little library of his Christmas gifts, for he always brought her a book. used to wonder why Gilbert liked sitting in the school-house, when the children were gone home, talking to pale, prim Miss Brett, but now she knew that boys value any one who takes an interest in them, and will listen to their long tales of school grievances or pleasures. Miss Brett knew nothing about cricket, and very little of fishing, but Gilbert's accounts of wonderful runs and splendid trout always found an attentive listener in her, and her leisure hours were often employed in making flies under Gilbert's direction to stock his fly-book. Alice was not jealous of her, but she resolved to take pattern by her, and byand-bye it crossed her mind that perhaps after school hours Miss Brett might feel a little dull, and be glad of companionship, for she was slightly lame, and could not accompany her brother, Mr. Brett, on the long walks he took. So at first, with the excuse of learning how to make a cricketing-cap for Gilbert, Alice would run down to the school in the grey, dismal winter afternoons, when often she would have preferred sitting by the fire: it did her good to deny herself a little, and poor Miss Brett began to wonder how it was she had never found out before the pleasant side of Alice Swayne's nature. She had long known her as a busy, useful little teacher with the children, but her social side had never been turned to her. It was wonderful, since Alice began to look out for the lions about her, how many there seemed to be to conquer; and yet the discovery of this fact did not depress her, but only roused her to fresh exertions. Since she had made friends with Miss Brett, she had found out how thoughtless she had been to let the poor teacher sit alone day after day, when a few kind words, or a book carried down from the Rectory, would have given so much pleasure. And with her friendship for Miss Brett came greater thought for Miss Dawkins. The two teachers had not been so much together nursing the sick, without feeling a strong regard for each other; and Miss Brett had heard much of Miss Dawkins' early history and trials, which she now repeated to Alice. "I wish I had known all this before,' said Alice, looking very uncomfortable. "I never knew Miss Dawkins had so much to bear. I always thought her so quiet and sensible that nothing vexed or distressed her much.' The consumptive sisters, and the brother struggling to enter a profession, all helped with Miss Dawkins' money, and encouraged by the poor governess's letters, were a new idea to Alice, and made her feel very guilty about the many times she had worried and resisted her in little matters. The school-room should be a pleasanter place to her for the future, Alice resolved, as she slowly walked up the village. Her thoughts were changed, however, by a voice calling her name. It was Violet Darell, who was rapidly making her way towards the Rectory. 'I was going to fetch you before I went to the Weirs' cottage,' she said. 'Such good news of Roger! I have brought the letter: is your father in his study?' And before Alice could answer a single question, Violet had hurried into the garden, rapped at Mr. Swayne's window, and toid him that he must come with her to the Weirs'. (To be continued.) |