might, and terror; and I was told to love him supremely.

My heart rebelled, and I leaned confidingly upon an arm of flesh. Ah! in bitterness of spirit was I to learn, that though earthly love is sweet and precious, only Infinite love is a safe haven for the tempesttossed and heavy-laden spirit.

In my own home, under the guidance of my father, who was a true and consistent Christian, I ever hailed the Sabbath with delight. Then it was a day of serene and elevated pleasure; a day of praise, of thanksgiving, and holy meditation. Then with rapture did I contemplate the love of the All-Father.

A few months had wrought a great change in me. Not that I had entirely forgotten my former "faith and hope in God;" not that the memory of other joyful, peaceful days was wholly lost; but the present seemed to hide the past; a mist had risen between my present and former self. I was sometimes critical and scorning; sometimes hoping, often fearing, always doubting.

Here, Sunday was the most tiresome, oppressive day of the week. Besides attending public services three times each Sabbath, there was a long series of Bible lessons, catechetical classes and prayer-meetings. These duties, followed up with intense ardor by our teachers, proved exhausting to my physical nature, and highly detrimental to my mental powers. Each

Sunday night I retired to bed inexpressibly weary, and painfully depressed in spirits.

Dr. Severe ministered at the church where all the pupils attended worship. His cognomen seemed singularly appropriate, and in the pulpit did he appear most fully to merit it. His style was hard and severe; but I listened with respect, for I gave him at least the credit of sincerity. Often would he launch forth into loud and startling denunciations, and thrilling appeals for the sinner to "flee from the wrath to come." In language which I cannot paint, would he thunder forth the terrors of the Lord; then, in solemn, awful tones would he warn the impenitent.

Thrilled with horror and half-disgust, have I often turned to note the effect of his words. The audience would generally be calm and unruffled; many would look indifferent, some abstracted, and a few intensely satisfied, as though the burning words were bread to their hungry souls; but here and there one, the tender and sensitive, would tremble like reeds before the blast.

Cora was one of these; often would her cheeks blanch and her eyes dilate with horror, and once she leaned her head upon my shoulder with a hysterical sob.

CHAPTER IV.

MISS INGOLS.

ONE windy day our stove smoked fiercely; therefore we all took our books and sat by the diningroom fire. Soon Ed Sanders came in from a recitation, balancing three or four books upon his head. He nodded gayly; -"See, girls," he cried, "this is my method of keeping my lessons from flying away, after I have managed to get them into my brain! The heft of my geometry, Latin grammar, and lexicon, all weighty books, I assure you, effectually prevents the escape of any poor little lesson; and if I can never again recall a word of it, I have the satisfaction of knowing it is somewhere in my head."

We all smiled at his nonsense, and made room for him by the fire; for he was a general favorite with the girls, he was always so good-humored and merry. For a time we quite forgot our books, and laughed and talked with Edwin, who was in his funniest mood. Then I suddenly recollected we were breaking the

rule by talking in study hours, and withdrew to the window, and resumed the study of my lesson.

silent and abashed.

Ed Sanders told such amusing stories that the girls were convulsed with merriment, and Helen, forgetting all restraint, laughed loudly. In a moment the door opened, and Miss Ingols advanced into the room. Instantly the laughing group became Self-condemnation was written on every face; not that Miss Ingols' manner expressed reproof or displeasure, but we were ashamed of our thoughtlessness. "I am sorry to see this," she said, in her low and gentle tones; "have you forgotten there is a penalty attached to every rule? or perhaps you are of those who are content to do 'eye-service?'" then, observing me by the window, she added, "I am glad there is one here who appears to have a stronger sense of duty than the rest."

There was a slight struggle in my mind, for I valued her good opinion very highly; but, scorning to receive unmerited praise, I rose and said, boldly, "You give me too much credit; I had just thought of my duty, and retired by myself to study, when you came in. I deserve to share in the reproof and punishment of the rest.”

“No,” said Edwin, stepping forward, "I am the only one to blame. I told stories to make the girls laugh, and I suppose they could n't help it; so, Miss

Ingols, please to excuse them, and let me suffer the penalty alone."

Miss Ingols smiled her own peculiar smile, so seldom seen upon her face, but which being once seen could never be forgotten. "Such an exhibition of candor and generosity is very gratifying to me," she said, "and, believing you will all be more careful in future, I will gladly pass over this departure from order." So saying, she left the room as quietly and gently as she came in.

Our gratitude was spoken by a few expressive glances, and then, without a word, we turned to our books. At noon Edwin came to me, and said, "If all Christians were like Miss Ingols, I should be inclined to think there was something in religion; she is so kind and good."

The girls all gathered around us, and heard the closing of his sentence. "O, yes; she is so kind and good!" echoed every one.

"But," said Helen, "she distresses me, for all that."

"How so?" queried I.

"She is so immovable.

It would actually be a

relief if she should even scold a little, now and then, just for a change. Did she ever laugh, or did you ever see her change the sad, sweet expression of her face?"

We all agreed that we felt somewhat as she did,