remembering a text which she had learned when a little girl, "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass," she tried, perhaps for the first time in her life, to offer sincere prayer to God for his guidance: this she found rather calmed her mind, and she fell asleep.

Is it necessary to offer any comment on what was passing in Emily's mind? Are there any of my young readers who think she was wrong in indulging these serious thoughts; who believe it would have been as well for her to wait a little longer, before she troubled herself with religion? Perhaps there are ;-but, oh, consider, my dear young friends, what can be more foolish, than to delay for an hour, the settling of that momentous question, on which eternity depends :-"Am I a child of God, or an enemy to Him? Am I walking in the way that goeth down to destruction, or in the narrow path that leadeth unto life?"

Perhaps there are some who would feel the force of these remarks, but still be unwilling to commence a religious life in their early days, from an idea that it would cast a gloom over that interesting period. Let them read on, and see if it produced that effect on the mind of the dear

girl whom we have just mentioned. Rather let them seek for themselves, truly to walk in the ways of wisdom, and assuredly they will find them to be pleasantness and peace.

And now, will not any one say, "True, I believe them to be so; and I trust I am really wishing to walk in them?" Sincerely would I congratulate you, my dear young reader, if this is the case; but whilst I would direct you to the many promises given by the Good Shepherd, for the encouragement of the lambs of his flock, I would warn you carefully to guard against selfdeception, and, seeking divine direction, seriously to examine the rock on which your hopes are built, and see whether you are simply and entirely depending on that blessed Saviour, "who is the only name given under heaven, whereby men may be saved;" whether you are willing fully to comply with his requirement," My son, give me thine heart."

CHAPTER IV.

THE following morning Emily thought, almost as soon as she awoke, of the subjects which had occupied her mind the night before, and renewed her determination of trying to converse again with Miss Windermere, as soon as possible. Accordingly, she watched all day, for a suitable opportunity; but, as might naturally have been expected, amidst the business of so large a school, was often disappointed. All the morning she calculated upon walking with Miss Windermere round the garden when they went out for exercise, as usual, in the middle of the day; but before they had finished their morning studies, a heavy shower of snow came on, which precluded all hope of going out for that day. In the afternoon she had again hopes of accomplishing her wish, for it was the custom, during the winter, for the young ladies to dance in the music-room, at

dusk, when they had been prevented from taking exercise during the day. This evening, directly Mrs. Wilmot had left the school-room, and Miss Windermere had announced the conclusion of afternoon school, Mary Ann bounded across the school-room. "Come, who is for a dance?" “Oh, I!" and "I," resounded on all sides, and in a few minutes almost every one had left the

room.

Miss Lindsay accompanied the young ladies, but Miss Windermere remained behind, and Emily declined dancing in the hope of having a quiet half-hour with her. To her annoyance, however, Frances took her seat by the fire, as though she meant to stay: after waiting a minute, she ventured to say, 66 Frances, are you not going to dance to-night?" Before there was time for a reply, Charlotte entered, and said, "Frances, are you not coming to play that new country dance? no one knows it so well as you, you know."

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No, I shall not come to-night," said Frances. "Dear, why not?" returned Charlotte; "what shall we do without you?" "You must do as you can," said Frances, coldly, "for I shall not come; it is so disagreeable, playing to you girls! you don't know the dance, and one has to begin

again half-a-dozen times for you." Charlotte stood still for a minute, and then said, "Well, I think it is very unkind." Miss Windermere looked up, and gently said, "My dear Frances, if your school-fellows wish it so much, would it not be kind in you to oblige them, even if it should be a little unpleasant to yourself? you would, I think, find yourself happier, and far more beloved, if you were to try to please others now and then, in these little things." This was not, indeed, by any means, the first or the second time that Miss Windermere had observed in Frances a disobliging disposition; but it was the first time she had spoken so pointedly to her on the subject. Indeed, she would not probably have done so in the present instance, had any little girls been in the room; for she was particularly cautious, when giving reproof, to avoid wounding the feelings; and considered that a kind admonition, given as though really intended for the good of the offender, was likely to make far more impression than animadversions, which had merely a tendency to produce keen though temporary vexation. As it was, however, Frances felt half ashamed of herself, and was glad to leave the room, which she did, saying, "Well, I