quiet honest scruples, and put to shame sceptical objections; and then proclaim their cavils to be unanswerable. Thus oft refuted and forgotten forms of unbelief, or misbelief, are continually reappearing, and claiming to be the fresh discoveries of enlightened times. Secondly, we take this worship of the sun to indicate that inordinate self-love to which, by our fallen nature, we are so prone. Its manifestation differs widely. In one it may be wrapped up in that ambition which would sacrifice every person and thing to the attainment of a name among the great ones of the earth, or too eagerly seeking distinction and applause in any of their various forms. In another it may be discovered under the more common aspect of selfishness. In another it may lurk under the disguise of sensitiveness or reserve. In another it appears in contempt for those we regard as our inferiors. Lastly in valuing ourselves on any of the gifts of GOD, disposition, intellectual powers, strength, beauty, rank or wealth, as if they were our own, and not held of Him as a stewardship for which we must give account: thus making "the things which should have been for our wealth an occasion of falling."1 "She did not know that I gave her corn, and wine, and oil, and multiplied her silver and gold, which they prepared for Baal."2" In whatever way self-love is predominant, in that way or degree it is idolatry, it usurps the place of GOD,-it makes self the centre of our being, round which revolve all the thoughts, passions, schemes, desires, purposes and hopes of our existence: virtually, therefore, it" sits in the temple of GOD showing itself that it is GOD," and as such is worshipped. opposes This is the true antichrist in each of us, which the establishment of His kingdom within us. Oh, let us beware of this idol. "The end of these things is death."4 The remedy for this grievous perversion of our being is provided in the revelation of that better and higher love the love of GOD in CHRIST JESUS our LORDwhich is implanted in the hearts of believers by the HOLY SPIRIT. 1 Ps. lxix. 23. 3 2 Thess. ii. 4. 2 Hosea ii. 8. That love restores the harmony of our being, makes Him the Centre--the supreme Object of our delight and our desires. Like Aaron's rod it swallows up the lower and baser affections that had taken His place, and its fruit is love to the brethren for His sake, and as members one of another. The prophet's vision seems to extend to the end of the eleventh chapter, and after showing the terrible judg ments which would overtake the rebellious nation, it closes with that blessed promise of restoration and renewing, which S. Paul quotes in the eighth chapter of Hebrews, as belonging to the new covenant, and to us, therefore, if we are of the spiritual seed. Almighty GoD, unto Whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from Whom no secrets are hid; cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of Thy HOLY SPIRIT, that we may perfectly love Thee, and worthily magnify Thy holy Name; through JESUS CHRIST our LORD. Amen. F. S. R. IN MEMORIAM. J. M. N. A PRIEST and saintly poet of the land— Yet in that warfare many cruel wounds Left evidence-in meekest silence borne; JESU-dear Name he loved so well-sweet Word C. A. M. W. ALICE WOBURN. CHAPTER III. MORE than two years had passed since Alice had gone to live with Mrs. Rothwell, spring all bright and cheering had come, and indeed almost gone, for it was the end of May. Alice had put off her mourning and she looked brisk and pleasant in a plain tweed cloak and straw hat, the colour of health in her cheeks and a smile in her honest eyes. She held in her hand a bunch of laburnums mixed with white and pink may, and as she went lightly on over the rough narrow pavement of a poor-looking back street of Raymouth, she formed an almost sad contrast to the people whose homes were there, untidy, scolding women, squabbling children, and a few men, cobblers and tailors, who were to be seen through their dirty shop windows or half open doors, the greater part of the male population being away at work. Alice hurried on, for she had been spending her half-holiday in a walk into the country, now it was getting late, and she was making haste that she might take her flowers to poor Harriet Gale, and yet get back before Mrs. Rothwell began to fidget and talk to Naomi about Miss Woburn's non-appearance. The houses were all old, quaint-looking, and of irregular sizes, Alice stopped at last before one that was smaller and neater than most of the others, of which the window frame was painted white, and the door which stood open, green. There were plants in the window, an ugly, common paper covered the walls, and the dull room was flooded with yellow sunshine. A woman of about fifty years old, with a quiet face that told of trouble and hardships silently borne, stood ironing at the table, freshly smoothed clothes hung all about. In an arm-chair drawn close up to the window as if to get away from the fire, the heat of which oppressed her, sat a girl about eighteen, a flush of pain was on her thin face, one or two tracts and some work were near her, but she looked far too languid to attempt to read Poor Harriet's spiritless face brightened with a feeble, nervous pleasure at the sight of Alice; Mrs. Gale and her child loved each other with an affection that was true indeed, but which seemed to be silent and almost stolid. Mrs. Gale had toiled for bread and the other bare necessities of nature in the dusty back ways of the world during a long life of decent poverty, and her spirit had grown dull and hopeless of joy in the endless fight with circumstances, above which nothing but death would raise her. "It was a hard task, that it was, for a widow woman to keep herself to herself and make a living, and she'd had a deal of trial, too, with her children, for they'd all died early but the youngest, and now Harriet was never likely to get about again;" she usually ended, however, with the same form of words, "but what the Almighty lays upon us that we must bear." Harriet Gale had grown up, living at home and working as a shoe-binder, while her mother's business was that of a laundress; poverty and contact with the hard facts of their narrow experience had crushed out all fancy and brightness from the minds of both the women. Their one thought of gladness was in the hereafter beyond the grave, which yet they shrank from with vague trembling; the Gales were Dissenters, but they could hardly tell why, except that the chapel called Zoar which they attended was near by, and therefore, as they expressed it, "handy." Alice became acquainted with the Gales through the good old woman who performed all the little offices needful for keeping S. John's church in order, she lived in the same street with them, and fancied that Alice might be able to brighten Harriet's sombre days, which might be many, for the poor girl's illness would probably be a long one. After Alice had given the flowers to the invalid, Harriet kept her eyes on her visitor with an expression of wistful sadness that gave Alice the idea that the girl must be worse, but in reply to her question Mrs. Gale, who had kept on at her ironing with a steady machinelike motion, said, "No, Miss, the doctor he came yesterday, and he didn't she was worse, he said she'll most likely last for years, that were his word, Miss; but he says her spine is out in order, and she have a deal to go through with yet." 66 My back hurts so, and I think it's growing out," Harriet said in her sad, low tone. "I shouldn't mind it so much, Miss, if I thought it wouldn't last long." Now Alice knew the cause of Harriet's quivering lip, and the tears that stood in the girl's glittering eyes. Alice's own were moist and her voice faltered as she tried to comfort the sufferer, "and-and it may not be for so very long, Harriet," she said at last. They were a very silent trio, Mrs. Gale's ironing never stopped, presently Alice spoke again. "Has the clergyman-has Mr. Calrow been here ?" she said. "I told him about Harriet, and he said he would come.' 66 "Yes, Miss, he have been here, them are the tracts he left, but Harriet you see she's a still-faring girl, and she didn't like to talk much being a stranger; but he's right a mild speaking gentleman, and meant it kind." This extremely cautious praise showed Alice that Mr. Calrow's visit had not made much impression: he was the rector of the large parish from which various districts, with churches and schools of their own, had been severed, as the town of Raymouth spread itself on all sides. S. John's was one of these district churches. Mr. Calrow was not a man of decided Church principles, and while services were multiplied in the churches around him those in the parish church remained as he had found them eighteen years before. He was a good man, anxious and burthened with many cares of his own, and people like Mrs. Gale are very hard to be won. After a little more talk Alice rose to go, when Mrs. Gale said bluntly, "My girl was a-wanting to ask you something, but I told her I didn't know how you'd take it." "Miss Alice," the girl faltered as her fingers tightened round Alice's cool, firm hand, "you've been kind to me, and I love you, when you're here I'm stronger, and not so fearful; I want you to-to promise-" "To promise what ?" "That-that when the time comes you'll be with me when I die: O, Miss Alice, do promise!" as she spoke her |