But Blanche hardly saw that, so intent was she upon the other; and she was still gazing at it when the dinner bell rang.

Mrs. Brownlow kept her young visitors with her after dinner, and exerted herself to amuse them. After a while she took Blanche on her lap, and gazed at her with a tenderness that seemed almost inexpressible. Blanche threw her arms round her neck and kissed her.

"You remind me greatly," said Aunt Rachel at length, "of my darling, my angel, Clara." "I do? Oh, Mrs. Brownlow, I am not half so lovely as she was."

"You have seen her picture, then?”

"Yes, aunt," said Fanny, "we were looking at it when the dinner bell rang."

"It is beautiful," said Blanche.

"It is, dear," replied Aunt Rachel with a sigh, "and yet it does not come up to what Clara was. That picture records a circumstance in my child's short history, of which I often think with infinite pleasure. You perceive she holds a wreath of flowers in her

hand; that wreath was woven by me and placed on little Clara's brow by her papa. I shall never forget the look with which the child turned to him; taking the wreath from her brow, she raised her beautiful eyes to heaven, and said sweetly, 'No, papa dear, I must not be crowned until I receive my golden crown from my Saviour's hand.'"

Mrs. Brownlow rested her forehead on Blanche's shoulder and wept silently, but bitterly. No one spoke for some time, for the story had impressed all, even Harriet. At length Blanche ventured to say softly

"She is crowned now, Mrs. Brownlow."

"Yes, dear, I know it," replied Aunt Rachel, raising her head, "and I would not have my beautiful child back again. I shall go to her some time." There was silence again; Aunt Rachel broke it this time.

"Come, my children, this is but poor entertainment for you; it is not often I give way. I suppose it was Blanche who made me, so she must bear all the blame."

"Is Blanche like what Clara was, Aunt Rachel?" asked Fanny.

"She reminds me of her, dear, very much."

"May I call you Aunt Rachel, too?" said Blanche.

"Yes, surely, dear child, I would not have you call me anything else; for though I am not your aunt, I feel as much affection for you as if I were.

"Had you any more children besides Clara, Aunt Rachel?" asked Harriet.

"No, dear, she was my only one; I loved her perhaps too much, and she was taken from me."

Blanche soon found that the regulations of Aunt Rachel's household were very different to her uncle's. Morning and evening the whole family were assembled together to worship Him in whom we live, and move, and have our being." The service was conducted by Aunt Rachel herself; as soon as it was concluded in the evening, each one retired to her room.

CHAPTER X.

SABBATH HOURS.

"Something there is, we know not what, in the calm Sabbath hours,

Which seems to chase the doubts away from these faint hearts of ours;

Something in each recurring eve-we feel not else as then

That tells the High and Lofty One is reconciled to

men.

THE next day was Sunday. Darton church was situated at some distance from Mrs. Brownlow's dwelling, but no weather ever prevented her or her household from attending every Sunday morning, which was the only time divine service was performed. It was Aunt Rachel's practice never to take her carriage out on the Sabbath, and they, therefore, much to Harriet's discomfiture, had to walk over the scarcely trodden snow. To

K

Blanche, this was the happiest Sunday she had spent since leaving home.

After the morning service came dinner, which was earlier on that day than usual; then Aunt Rachel left her young friends to themselves for a while. Fanny and Blanche sat by the library window, conversing in low tones, while Harriet remained by the fire reading the book she had been so occupied with the previous day. At length Blanche approached her.

"Oh, cousin Harriet, please don't read that book to-day; what would Aunt Rachel say if she saw you?"

"It doesn't matter to you what she would say, so go away and don't trouble me.”

Come, Harriet," said Fanny, coming forward too, "can't you put it away if Blanche wishes you ?"

"I can, to be sure, but I don't choose; what business is it of hers what I read, or of yours either ?”

"But Harriet, dear cousin Harriet, don't,