eighteen centuries ago, yet richer is their blessing who, in our own prosaic era, experience His influence and presence in their souls. Removed from their bodily sight, He is in still closer fellowship with them, according to His saying, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world" (Matt. xxviii. 20). For now that His Humanity is glorified and entirely Divine, it transmits in fulness all the graces of His Holy Spirit; which is His own spiritual presence in the heart and mind, inspiring heavenly affections and motives, and, as the need arises, recalling from the treasure-house of memory such sacred knowledges of truth as may be useful to purify the desires and to enlighten and guide the conduct. Our Lord gave assurance of this interior intimacy when He said of the promised Paraclete, "The world seeth Him not, neither knoweth Him: but ye know Him; for He dwelleth with you, and shall be in you. I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you" (John xiv. 17, 18).

Yet after all due precautions against an exaggerated estimate, we cannot but regard the companions of our Lord, viewed even from the low platform of literal history, as a remarkable and interesting class. Selected by unerring wisdom for the important work of laying the foundations, under the direction of the Divine Master Builder, for the entire fabric of Christianity, they undoubtedly possessed the necessary qualifications for such a task, and were distinguished by the reality and intelligence of their convictions, by ardent, loving zeal, and by the most unwearied self-sacrifice and devotion. Probably these qualities were more conspicuous during the disciples' later years than in their early period of pupilage recorded in the Gospels. For after they were enlightened and sanctified with the indwelling presence of their Lord by His Holy Spirit, they could understand His truth more clearly than while He was yet with them, and were strengthened to labour in His service more faithfully and wisely. Of the details of such labour we possess but scanty knowledge, the lives of the associates of Jesus subsequent to the dates of New Testament history being mainly shrouded in legends and tradition. The elements and groundwork of their characters are, however, sufficiently indicated in the inspired writings; and the hints afforded of the manner in which the Saviour trained them for their duties,-His firm yet tender dealing with their frailties, His loving, generous recognition of their virtues, are full of the most beautiful and practical instruction.

Perhaps the first circumstance which strikes the natural mind respecting the companions of our Lord is the lowliness of their worldly station. When any mere man wishes to introduce new views, or inaugurate new modes of life and action, he seeks the favour and assistance of the great ones of the earth. When God Himself became incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ, in order to effect the deepest and most comprehensive changes ever wrought amongst mankind, He adopted means entirely different. With both worlds at His command, with absolute control over all human and angelic powers and dignity, He stooped to a position of humble poverty, that of a Nazarene carpenter, and drew His most intimate associates and instruments from the same obscure rank. Thus, "not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, were called. But God chose the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and the weak things of the world to confound the things which were mighty" (1 Cor. i. 26, 27).

And we may see several important reasons for this selection. Our Lord thus enforced, with most practical emphasis, the great truth that He looketh, not, like man,

on the outward appearance, but upon the heart (1 Sam. xvi. 7); consequently, that in His sight, mental and moral fitness, even though associated with circumstances apparently unfavourable, are a sure warrant for adoption and approval. By the same means He declared that His kingdom was indeed "not of this world" (John xviii. 36), since otherwise it could never have dispensed with all that this world counts honourable and mighty. He likewise illustrated the universally inclusive embrace of His redeeming mission, showing that He came to save, not a class or section, but the whole human family, beginning at the foundation of the social scale, that the very least and lowest might feel and confess His sympathy, and, influenced by His restoring grace, might rise to a better and happier life on earth, and to a glorious immortality above. Moreover, the choice by our Lord of poor and humble folk for His companions exhibits the tender solicitude of His Divine providence for the freedom of the human mind. Coming, as He did, for purely supernatural and special purposes, He surrounded Himself with circumstances which left all at perfect liberty either to receive or reject Him. Had He appeared, as the Jews expected and desired, in the guise of a princely patriot and conqueror, the world might indeed have rendered Him its tribute of welcome and adoration; but it would have been an unreasoning and superficial homage. By manifesting Himself in a garb of simple lowliness, however, He depended solely on His rational and moral claims, and thus ensured for the Church He came to establish a deep and interior foundation,-not in the plaudits of a thoughtless crowd, dazzled by outward pomp and power, but in the heartfelt convictions of men who had espoused His cause in the face of contumely and danger, because they were satisfied of its justice and its goodness. For these among other reasons, therefore, the companions of our Lord were selected for the most part from the lower ranks of the social scale; a knot of illiterate, unfashionable, hardhanded working men and women. But strong in their fidelity to truth, and in the self-denying goodness which truth inculcates, they became a city set on a hill which could not be hid (Matt. v. 14),-a lamp, whose rays gradually diffused themselves abroad with inextinguishable brightness,, because kindled from that "true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world" (John i. 9).

But the companions of the Lord are interesting, not only from their personal characters and achievements, but as representing the principles of love and faith which must accompany the growth and operations of the divine life in the Church and in every soul. Indeed, the whole biography of Jesus is susceptible of this spiritual interpretation, and requires this individual application before its full significance and helpfulness can be discerned. While most real as a fact of literal history, the Incarnation thus possesses, in addition, a symbolical meaning, all its details being so recorded in Scripture, under Divine Providence, as to afford a type of processes to be internally accomplished in each heart and mind. Otherwise the benefits of the Saviour's redemption and salvation cannot be appropriated and enjoyed. Not what He did outside of us, but the work He perfects within us, is the ground of our immortal felicity; "Christ in you," as the Apostle declares, being "the hope of glory" (Col. i. 27). Indeed, all that He effected in the world without was done for the sake of this inward work, that He might remove the obstacles to its accomplishment, and enable mankind to understand its nature, and thus to co-operate in its completion. And all the incidents of His descent into the sphere of human conflict and experience by

actual birth as a man have their spiritual parallels in connection with His corresponding presence in the microcosm of every soul.

What is thus true of the central figure of the gospel narrative is necessarily true likewise of the subordinate agents. If the bodily presence of the Lord in Palestine eighteen centuries ago symbolizes His spiritual presence at all times in the Church and in each of its members, the personal associates who accompanied His journeys, and, for good or ill, took part in His ministrations, must represent principles which now sustain analogous relations with His spiritual and internal work. Hence the subject of our Saviour's companions is full of interest and practical value. Their equivalents are living and acting in all our hearts and minds. The Virgin Mary, the Baptist herald, Peter, James, and John, Thomas and Judas, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, once alive on earth as actual men and women, and still living out their eternal destinies in the spiritual world,—are also existing within each of us. If the Lord's work is to prosper in us, it must be with their free consent, and by their active co-operation. In studying their lives, we explore the mysteries of our own wondrous being. Their frailties warn us of our weakness; their faithfulness strengthens our efforts to be true and constant; their successes cheer our hearts with the hope of our own final triumph. JOHN PRESLAND.

(To be continued.)

IS IT WRONG TO WISH TO KNOW MORE OF HEAVEN?

EVER in the past was knowledge so eagerly sought or so freely imparted as it is to-day. To-day the many know more than the privileged few knew yesterday. Yesterday wise men were dimly guessing at truths of which to-day our youngest students are sure. And they are sure, not about one thing, but about many things. Things of the olden time and of the new, things of the earth and of the sky, things of the body and of the mind, are all, to a great extent, things concerning which even the busy multitudes to-day have knowledge. Yet with all this increase of knowledge upon so many and upon such widely different themes, the knowledge of heaven seems to have stood still. In the past men have confessedly known little of heaven; and they seem compelled to confess that they know as little now.

Not only the multitudes who open no Bible and who enter no church; not only the thousands who are taught in Sunday schools, and preached to from pulpits; but men who are themselves the religious teachers-the honoured, and the rightly honoured teachers of the people are dumb or inarticulate when little children ply them with truly childlike questions about the world that more than all things else excites the mind of unworldly childhood.

Where is heaven? They do not know. What is heaven? They cannot tell. How do angels look? Where did they come from? How did they get to be what they are and where they are? What are they doing? What do they think and see of the Saviour whom we worship? Do they ever help each other? and why don't they sometimes help us? To all these questions there is no reply. When shall we get where they are, and by what means? Our little ones who die in infancy-how do they fare when they leave our arms? And with such multitudes pouring into heaven every hour, will not God say soon, There is no more room?

Nobody knows. Yet the desire to know is irrepressible and strong. And there is nothing to wonder at in that. Some day (and we know that the day may not be very far away) we shall hear earth's sounds and look upon earth's sights for the last time-we shall step away into another world in which we shall abide for ever; and is it then so passing strange that we should ask whether it is indeed inevitable that such a step must always be taken in the dark? And even now, whilst still in the fullest enjoyment of this world's life, whilst least able to realize the nearness of the coming change, we cannot forget those who were with us once but who are with us no longer. We cannot but think of the wise and devout father or the gentle and patient mother, the brave brother or the tender sister, the faithful husband or the clinging wife, the frank and manly son or the quiet and thoughtful daughter, the revered teacher or the trusted friend, of whose departure from this earth we are most vividly certain just when we are perhaps scarcely certain of anything else. And we cannot think of these and of their departure without wishing, without craving, to know more of that blessed world of which we now know so little, and of which they now know so much.

Do we not indeed catch here some glimpse of the reason why the miserable, the enfeebling fallacies of spiritism have bound with a spell so strong such multitudes of generous hearts that thirst for knowledge as to the state, and the whereabouts, and the circumstances of those who have vanished from their sight, but who can never vanish from their memories? If we have refused to yield to the same sad spell, have we not burned with the same hot thirst? Hence may we not wisely ask, Is this thirst a diseased thirst? Is the desire to know more of heaven a wrong desire? Is this desire, this thirst, one that we should resolutely refuse to endeavour in any way, at any fount, to satisfy?

Undoubtedly there are many who promptly and emphatically answer, Yes. There are many-many who are good men and true-who believe that the wish to know more of heaven is wrong, and who are not slow to offer reasons for their faith.

They tell us that in this life our business is with the things of this life, and with those who are living in it still, and with no other persons and with no other things. They urge us to spend our strength in trying to discharge more fully our present duties, and to rejoice more heartily in present blessings. They remind us that this common earth is "full" of the riches of the Lord, and that this common earth-life has a meaning, and a glory, and a charm which some of those who strain their eyes to see beyond its borders are apt to miss. And there is undoubtedly in all this much of real as well as of apparent force. It is a good thing that men are beginning to recognize and to gratefully acknowledge that "the earth is the Lord's," that it "is full of His goodness," and that it is in very deed the everlasting resting-place of His resplendent feet. But is it true that to see all the beauty of the earth we must refuse to see any of the beauty of the sky? Do daisies veil their charms from all who will sometimes admire the stars? Must we, in order to remember that our Lord has a footstool, forget altogether that He has a throne? Is it not because He is an enthroned King that the place of His feet is made to be so glorious? Because I know something of the heavenly channels through which the currents of the Divine life flow, must I care less for the earthly vessels into which they finally pour? And must I inevitably regard less my present blessings and neglect more my present duties if I once chance to find that the blessings and the duties of earth are but the mortal shells within

which are growing slowly the immortal blessings and the glorious uses of heaven? And if it be true that some, who think that they have caught a glimpse of the glory that lies beyond them, have missed completely the glory that lies around them and beneath their feet, may it not be that they have looked upon some phantom world of their own creation rather than upon that very real heaven where the humblest and the most industrious angels find themselves the most at home? These have gone astray from the path of simple duty, not because they really knew so much, but because they really knew so little, of heaven.

But this is not the only objection that is urged by those who would have us to believe that to wish to know more of heaven is wrong.

They tell us that God has been pleased in His wisdom to keep the doors of heaven closed and the faces of His earthly children veiled. God has told us nothing about heaven, and therefore it is wrong to wish to know. This is supposed to settle the whole matter. And so it would if it were only true; for all would agree that it could not be wise to force a door which had been closed, to rend a veil which had been woven by the hand of that Wisdom which never errs. But is it true that God is enamoured eternally of veiled faces and of fastened doors? The Divine Humanity is the door,-the door into all things, the very greatest and the very least; and is that a door that is always closed? Is it not rather a door through which the pasture-seeking sheep of God can "go in and out" to find it? Short and swift (speaking according to the flesh) was the earthly life of Jesus; but was it "finished" until "from the top to the bottom" the veil of the temple had been "rent in twain"?

Did any blind man ever cry to Him for sight, and go back to his unillumined home again with his eyelids sealed fast as ever and with the Saviour's praises of blindness clamouring at his ears? Was it darkness that received the first divine benediction? or light that trembled beneath the first curse?

No! He, the Infinite Seer, and the Infinite Light, is neither the Author nor the Patron of sightless eyeballs or of starless nights. The darkness calls us its father, not Him. The veils are woven by our fingers, not His. We have but to lay our eyes beneath His fingers, and they will see. We have but to cry to Him for the morning, and there will be no more night. But the cry must be a living cry, not the corpse of one. It must spring into utterance from the inmost love and through the outmost life. And if we now will but thus cry to Him for power to see, in His light, that world which is our fatherland, and His throne, we shall soon be sure that the wish to know more of heaven is not wrong, because it will be a wish that He in His wisdom has satisfied.

Auxiliary New Church Missionary and Tract Society does NOT do. It does not confer upon its associates any great, or learned, or gaudy titles, no, not even the initial letters, those English hieroglyphics, after their names, as fellows of the A.N.C.M.T.S. Nor do we give to them any large salaries for services performed. Our means are extremely limited, for we have no handsome income derived from investments in the funds, in Turkish, or Egyptian, or Honduras bonds, or better still, in the New and Reduced Three Per Cents. No, my friends, we have nothing of that kind. We depend for our subsistence from day to day, like the humble sparrow, on those crumbs which a kindly Providence so mercifully provides for us; and if there is any friend here to-night generously inclined who has a five or a ten pound note to spare, or even a single, solitary, modest, and unobtrusive-looking sovereign, I need not tell you with what feelings of inexpressible delight it will be received by

our treasurer.

been

But, my friends, notwithstanding these disadvantages, I think I can safely say, without indulging either in exaggeration or flattery, that I know of no institution in connection with our Church where there is such an amount of good and useful work performed at such a very trifling cost as that done by your Auxiliary Society. Through its means thousands of tracts have distributed, and letters and books by the hundred have been written and forwarded to many public writers, both to those who have expressed sympathy with our views and the reverse. And this work is carried on, not in the spirit of him who seeks to compass sea and land to make one proselyte. On the contrary, we say to all, These are our books, they contain our views. We cannot force you to believe as we believe, nay, so sacred in our sight are the right of private judgment and the liberty of conscience, that we would not force you even if we could. But as God has given you the faculties to think and judge for yourselves, we ask you fairly to consider our views, so that when you come to pass an opinion and verdict upon them, you may be the better able to obey the Divine injunction of judging righteous judgment.

My friends, it is not for the members of the Auxiliary Society to say that they have succeeded in the work they have undertaken. But if they have not attained success, their object is such a very laudible one that they at least deserve it. And if they have not succeeded, I am also sure it has not been from the lack of the services of a very excellent secretary. Of him I will not say much, but what little I am going to say implies a very great

As a secretary, Mr. Elliot, junior, is a worthy son of a worthy sire; and what renders his services all the more acceptable, he throws around them that graceful air of unassuming modesty, ever esteeming the work of others of far greater value and consequence than his own.

Well now, my friends, as I have already hinted, we have had occasion to communicate with many public writers, calling their attention to the doctrines of the New Church. And it having been announced in the newspapers that the Rev. Mr. Dale of Birmingham, a wellknown and leading Nonconformist minister, would deliver a course of lectures in London on the subject of the Atonement, a letter was sent him, together with a copy of the Rev. Chauncey Giles' little book on that subject, and a tract written by the late Rev. John Hyde of Manchester. And, it being understood that Mr. Dale was to reply to all and sundry objections that could be urged against the orthodox view of this question, he was kindly requested to answer, point by point and paragraph by paragraph, the arguments contained in Mr. Hyde's pithy

tract. I regret, however, to say that our letter to Mr. Dale elicited no response. Now, considering that our communications have, I will not say always, but have generally, received the most courteous attention from public men of all shades of opinion,-from authors and editors, from Unitarians and Nonconformists, from High Church and Low Church, and Broad Church and No Church, nay, even from Convocation and the Bishops themselves, we could not but feel a little disappointed that Mr. Dale should have allowed our communication to remain unacknowledged, and our arguments unanswered.

But perhaps his silence arose from the fact that his correspondent sent him too hard a nut to crack, or perhaps it was because he was so deeply engaged in the study of his own side of the question that he had no time for the study of ours. Or perhaps it was because the communication did not come from a quarter sufficiently high and exalted. Had it come from a bishop, I have not the shadow of a doubt but that it would have received Mr. Dale's most prompt and condescending attention. But alas, my friends! it did not come from a bishop. It only came from a humble but intelligent member of your Auxiliary Society, for whom I am truly sorry to say there is at present no immediate prospect of an elevation to the Episcopal bench; so that Mr. Dale, no doubt considering the obscure and insignificant quarter from whence it emanated, felt that he was justified in suspending for once the usual courtesies of polite and civilized literary society.

But, my friends, if Mr. Dale has not replied to our arguments, suppose we devote a few moments to-night to the consideration of one or two of his. He tells us in his book that this doctrine of the vicarious sacrifice and substitution has been handed down to us for the last eighteen hundred years, with an almost unbroken unanimity, and that it has been the refuge of the penitent and the joy of the saint.

Now, my friends, in examining this statement we will not appeal to religious passion and prejudice, but we will endeavour to examine it in the calm, clear light of reason and common sense, aided by a brief reference to the genuine teaching of the Divine Word and the facts of ancient ecclesiastical history. And in the first place allow me to ask, Is Mr. Dale aware that the reason he urges on behalf of this doctrine is almost identical with that which has been urged on behalf of many of the most exploded religious errors both of past and present times. For eighteen hundred years, or perhaps even a great deal longer, mankind have been taught to believe that this vast universe of ours, with its countless suns and moons and stars and planets, was created in the course of six literal days. The dogma is as old as the hills. It has been handed down to us by the wise men in the Church with an almost unbroken unanimity; but, in the face of the facts of recent scientific discovery, I ask you, Is it true? Again, for many generations our ancestors were taught to believe that this earth of ours was a flat plain, round which the sun and moon and all the starry heavens revolved; and any son of the Church who had the manly courage to dare to call in question the wisdom and scientific knowledge of his spiritual mother was subjected to pains and penalties specially provided for his heresy. The dogma was old; it had the authority and unanimity of the Church in its day, but I ask you, Is it true?

Again, for generation after generation, the great dogma -shall we say of Papal Infallibility?-no, because what claims to be the Church has not yet ripened into the full fruition of unanimity on the subject ;-but for generation after generation the great dogma of the personality of

th

the devil has been handed down to us, and in certain quarters of late, with a pious reverence, a tenderly care, and a watchful solicitude, as if it were the most precious relic and heirloom of the human family. The dogma has grown hoary with age. It has had, and still has, the authority and unanimity of the fathers, ancient and modern, Protestant as well as Catholic, to recommend it; but with all these in its favour, does it follow that it is a Divine truth and not a popular fiction? No, my friends; if antiquity and the unanimity of priestly authority afford any use to these old dogmas, it is like the use which the ivy performs to the old castle walls, by rendering them all green and wildly fresh without, but hiding from view the ruin and decay within.

But, my friends, is it a fact that this dogma is eighteen hundred years old? The origin of this, like that of many others of these old religious ideas, has become, I will not say lost, but so obscured by the mists of antiquity, that men have taken it quite for granted that it had its origin from the Founder of Christianity; and yet nothing can be more contrary to the fact than that. Our Lord never taught any such idea. You will nowhere find it in the Sermon on the Mount, nor in the Lord's Prayer, nor in any single one of those beautiful parables which He spoke on the contrary He teaches the very reverse, as any child can prove by a reference to that most beautiful of all His parables, the parable of the Prodigal Son.

Again, the Apostles never taught any such idea. What they taught is concisely expressed in the words of the Apostle Paul, "God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself," a very different thing from saying, as Mr. Dale says, that God and Christ are two separate and distinct Divine Persons, and that the office of the one is to appease the wrath and anger of the other—to change a being whom the Bible tells us is Unchangeable, and who requires no changing; in whom there is neither. variableness nor shadow of turning, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.

From whence, then, has this extraordinary idea come? And here I must make the melancholy confession that, when I read in Mr. Dale's book page after page of learned lore, all culled from the ancient fathers, and marshalled in battle array in defence of the poor, irrational and unscriptural old dogma, I could not but feel that he had for the moment abandoned the sacred cause of religious progress, and taken to the profession of the religious antiquarian.

From whence has the idea come? Why, it was first proclaimed to the world about three hundred years after the death of Christ by Athanasius, and during those three centuries the early Christian Church had, as was Divinely predicted she would, "left her first love," and had declined from her primitive simplicity and purity, and become contaminated and corrupted and dishonoured by the introduction of errors and spurious additions. And amongst these were, first, the great error of dividing God into three separate and distinct Divine Persons, and next, the separation of faith from charity, and religious belief from a life of godliness and righteousness.

But, my friends, if the heresy of Athanasius was bad, that which was introduced by Gregory of Nyssa, another of the ancient fathers, was even a great deal worse; for he made it out that the atonement was made and the ransom paid, not to God the Father, as maintained by Mr. Dale and modern theologians, but to the devil himself; and this gross and monstrous, even blasphemous, absurdity continued to be taught in the Christian Church for centuries afterwards. Yet, notwithstanding this fact staring him in the face, and admitted in his own

book, Mr. Dale still continues to talk about that wonderful thing called "unbroken unanimity."

My friends, these were dark and terrible ideas, and the times that gave them birth were well named the dark ages, when darkness covered the earth, and gross darkness the people; but the dark ages have gone, let us hope never more to return, and a new age, bright with hope and promise for the future of mankind, is now dawning on the world. And one of our duties as disciples of that new age is to proclaim again those great truths which our Lord announced on His First Advent, amongst which are, first, the undivided unity of God, as revealed in the Person of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; and next, that men are saved from sin and its terrible consequences, not simply by believing that our Lord died on Calvary eighteen hundred years ago;-that, my friends, is a great religious and historical fact, pregnant, in what it accomplished, with the most vital importance to all the human race, past, present, and to come; but merely as a fact it can be believed by the devil and the infidel, as well as by the saint and the Christian; but by that living faith which consists in the full acknowledgment of our Lord as the God of heaven and earth and the Divine Head of the Church, united with a loving obedience to His Divine commandments, those eternal laws of spiritual health and life, the first of which is, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."

These, with many others, are the great and sacred truths which it is alike the duty, as well as the glory and privilege, of the New Church to rescue from oblivion and to restore again to mankind. It is related of Isaac that he dwelt in the Valley of Gerar, and digged again the wells which his father Abraham had dug, but which the Philistines had closed up. And they were to him, and to his children and household and flocks, wells of springing water giving health and strength. And in like manner those wells of Divine Truth which our heavenly Father sunk in His own Divine Word are again, under the human instrumentality of Emanuel Swedenborg, being dug and opened up, and uncovered from the dirt. and the dust and the ecclesiastical rubbish which ages of religious Philistinism have heaped upon them; and if men will but go to these, and drink of their pure and sacred waters, they will be to them and to their children and to their children's children, for generations to come, the wells of Divine and living truth, imparting health and strength, and life and beauty, both in time and in eternity. ROBERT JOBSON.

AMID THE CORN.

By the Author of "The Evening and the Morning." I. THE CHRISTMAS PARTY.

CHAPTER I.

"He went through the corn-fields."

T might be thought that a much more suitable title for these papers would be "Amid the Snow." The snow is everywhere. The ample farm-house in which I am located is snowed up to the very doors. The broad, dazzling flakes have been falling these three days. The hedgerows, as seen from the window of the room where I am standing, are simply white ridges in the wide waste. The very trees are trees no longer. All the delicate beauty of their

outline is obliterated, and they are simply white blotches against the lowering sky.

But within we care nothing for the weather. Who cares for frost and snow at Christmas? They give a zest to everything. They make the viands that crown the board more enticing and the roaring fire more genial, while our indoor games are the more delightful for the knowledge that the snow and the wind and the darkness are having a rare time of it abroad. This morning Harry Thomson and Willie Morse have made an effort, in the company of our host, to penetrate through the waste to the mere, in the mad hope of being able to enjoy an hour's skating, while I have stayed at home, and, dazzled alternately by the cold blaze of the snow without and the warm glow of the fire within, have withdrawn into a cosy corner and fallen into a reverie.

How long I remained in this condition I am unable to say; but I know that I was pleasantly aroused from it by one of the pleasantest faces that ever gladdened a human heart. The face belonged to Hettie Mayflower, who opened the door and dashed into the room, supposing it to be empty, and was first startled and then delighted to find me present.

"Why, Mr. Romaine," she cried, laughing, "I thought you were out with the others amid the snow."

"No, my dear," I answered, smiling in return; "to tell you the truth, I have been amid the corn."

"Amid the corn," she said, opening her blue eyes with admiration and surprise; "why, what do you mean, Mr. Romaine? Has Mr. Freeheart taken you into his granary?"

"Oh dear no!" I returned; "to the best of my belief these limbs have not borne me beyond the threshold this bitter morning."

"O Mr. Romaine," she answered, "you are such a funny man! I am sure you mean something ridiculous by it. Do tell me!"

My

Now I may say that I was greatly interested in Hettie Mayflower. She had in that lovesome little body of hers such a simple, affectionate heart, and so childlike yet intelligent and reverential a mind, that she had entirely won me to love her. Be not so fast, dear reader. love for her was that which Jesus commended to us all. It was the love of the Christian disciple. She was engaged to Willie Morse. He was a thoroughly good fellow, but he had been fascinated by the shallow scepticism of the day, and if he had any religion, it consisted in the worship of Nature. Hettie herself,

though she attended her parish church, was to a large extent indifferent to religion, and it was with her a mere matter of routine; so that, apart from Willie and her friends, she had nothing on which to fix the simple affections with which her heart was brimming over.

So I thought I had an opportunity for a little impressive conversation. When, therefore, she asked me to tell her what I meant, I said if she would sit down I would expound my riddle.

"Are you going to be serious, Mr. Romaine?" she asked, with a half satirical smile.

"Yes, dreadfully," I answered, smiling in return. "You are not going to preach me a dreary sermon, are you?"

"No I am not. I am going to take you where I have been this half-hour or more. Without leading you into Mr. Freeheart's granary, I will take you amid the corn.” Regarding me with a curious and puzzled but amused look, she sat down.

"Now Hettie," I said, "is there anything in the world so pleasant as love?"