an allegory of the power of sin destroyed by the power of innocence.

This opened a great deal to Fanny, and the next time she was in the room, she thought and understood more. First there came into her mind the promise in the Psalm: "Thou shalt go upon the lion and adder, the young lion and the dragon shalt thou tread under thy feet."

And why? Not by strength and might, but "because he hath set his love upon Me, I will deliver him, I will set him up because he hath known My Name."

Because she had set her love on Him, because she owned His Name and held by His Cross, did the martyr Margaret, young and weak as she was, bear the palm and have part in the conquest when He of whom the Psalm was chiefly written, bruised the head of the great dragon the old Serpent. Yes, "the sucking child might play on the hole of the asp, the weaned child put his hand on the cockatrice' den," for she was "on the holy mountain where they might not hurt nor destroy," she was of those to whom her Lord had given power “to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy." Thus she conquered. She did not openly war against the dragon, she trembled, but she was firm; he did his very worst, he swallowed her up, but he could not retain her, patience and innocence were her strength. She bore all, and she was safe. Her mortal body suffered under the axe, but her spirit is in its white robe, palm in hand, and at the last day her body will be joined with it,

her victory complete, and she will follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth.

These thoughts came into Fanny's mind at different times, though not quite in these words. But she did not stop there. She remembered that Mrs. Hayward had talked to her of the trials and temptations in this world being instead of martyrdom to us, and she began to think whether there was any one like St. Margaret now.

She recollected Mary Hall, that poor girl whose father kept that dreadful public-house where all the worst men met, and where there was every thing shocking going on, and poor Mary was obliged to wait on them, and hear all their bad language. And she thought how Mary tried to learn at school on Sunday, and to be good at Church, and how one Sunday she was missing; and Mr. Hayward found out that she was ill, laid up at home by a terrible blow from her father because she would not do something dishonest at his command; and how she went into a decline, and was taken to the hospital, and there her nurse used to say it was quite a lesson only to be with her, and hear how she would pray in her low whispers, and say over texts to herself, and talk so gently and patiently, even her harsh wicked father cried when he saw her so meek and forgiving, and only praying that he might turn to good; and at last, when she died, it was with a look of such peace and calm on her face, that all who saw her said it would make them less afraid to die.

Was not this "not being overcome of evil,

but overcoming evil with good?" And surely, though poor Mary's face was rough and worn with her hard life, yet Fanny thought, if she could have seen her soul, it must be as pure and radiant and lovely as St. Margaret in the picture.

Fanny had some troubles of her own, which, though not to be compared with Mary's, had perhaps done more to hurt and grieve her than her failure as a teacher. There had been an elder girl at Netherton, who had often talked in a very careless manner, and spoken of things such as no good girl could bear to hear of. Fanny had turned away and tried to stop it, but she was too gentle and timid to be much minded, and indeed she dreaded to stir up angry words, or make a disturbance.

So she had allowed words to be said in her hearing that she wished she had never heard, and sayings that would come back again, and idle jests that haunted her mind even at Church. She had been very unhappy, the more so that she did not like to tell, and thought herself wicked for not being able to forget. That was the reason she would not touch those books, she feared they would stir up all the thoughts again. Perhaps it was this that made it so comfortable and soothing to her to gaze on the pure, simple innocent face of St. Margaret, which seemed to drive away all unpleasant thoughts.

St. Margaret was pure of heart, so her eyes were fixed on her God in faith, and faith was the victory by which she overcame, so though the foul shape of evil was all around, she did

not look on him, but went onward on her path, and was led safely through. He might not soil one fold of her raiment.

So should Fanny fix her mind on her duty and on things above, fill it up with busy work, and with psalms and hymns, and so no room would be left for those unhallowed words and thoughts, they would fade out of her mind, and leave no taint behind, just as a flower's smooth surface is always fresh and clean. Evil not entertained cannot hurt by its assaults.

And lastly, the Maiden of the picture was not faint-hearted. She was weak and lonely, and that she was not without woman's fearful spirit might be seen in her whole face and air. But she went on, as if she feared not, "and as her day was, so was her strength."

Surely to shrink from doing right for fear of angry words, or from rebuking evil among others for fear of clamour, was not being like St. Margaret. No, the Christian maiden must be firm, not bold with manly courage, but steadfast in womanly patience. Let the dragon do his utmost, he could but devour, and then he was destroyed. Let angry tongues do their utmost, the soft answer will turn them away, the repeated forgiveness silence them.

So, Christian maiden, go on, throughout this mortal life, pure-hearted, gentle, firm, and resolved, trusting in the victory gained by the Death on the Cross, and so walk on in the highway of the ransomed, where no venomous beast has power to hurt. There will He who trod that same way, be present 'to strengthen those

that stand, to comfort and help the weakhearted, to raise up them that fall, and finally to beat down Satan under our feet. So that when the dragon seems most successful, when he has the victim within his very jaws, then is she in the true moment of triumph, then her palmbranch is in her hand, and the radiance beams forth around her brow, which shall shine as a star in the firmament for ever.

GOOD AND BAD HABITS.'

DISRESPECT.

Death and Life are in the power of the tongue."- Prov. xviii. 21,

From the corner of a yellow cotton handkerchief, in which it had all been very tightly tied up, Mrs. Barfoot took a golden sovereign, and half a sovereign, two shillings, and some halfpence, which she counted out before Sally.

"Mother!" said the latter, quite out of breath with surprise, "wherever did you get all that?" "That is not all," said her mother, going on unpacking the basket, without answering Sally's question. "Look here!" Out came a bundle, tied up in a brown silk handkerchief, that proved to be a very tidy, blue-checked woollen gown, which Sally recollected having seen Mrs. Wilmore wear a few weeks before.

"What next, mother?" she exclaimed.

"Oh, ever so much more!" said Mrs. Barfoot, and she brought out a good-sized paper parcel, which looked as if it had been tied up in the