of good advice. There was much truth in what she said, and she was quite sincere in averring that it would be better even to fail than purchase success at the expense of what was right. In theory, Reggie could not help agreeing with her, but it did not suit him just then to say so, and Olive had to go off to church without having been able to persuade him to come with her, or even to take a more suitable book. Reginald was not quite comfortable; some of his sister's remarks had hit rather hard, and he spent the greater part of his afternoon in trying to justify himself to himself. It would not do; he had been brought up too carefully to be able to feel comfortable in the habitual disregard of religion which had been lately growing upon him. "She's a good little thing,' said he to himself, as he put away the book. "What

would she say if she knew all ? she really looked quite unhappy, and she is not one to put it on for stage effect. I think I'll go and meet her, and I don't care if I promise to go to church in the evening." With this reflection he took his hat and walked out.

Olive had announced her intention of going to see an old nurse after service; and, to her house, Reginald now turned his steps; but "Miss Olive had been and gone.' Old Nanny was loud in her praises of Miss Olive's kindness. 'Yes, she had been there reading to her, so as it did one good to listen; but a young lady had been and fetched her. They had gone away together and were walking in the meadow."

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Reginald sat down and talked to the old woman for a few minutes; he was not so much opposed to the "doing good" project as to dislike hearing of his sister's thoughtfulness and kindness. In fact, he began to think that as long as she did nothing worse than read to old Nanny and make her a new petticoat occasionally, there was not much harm done; and, if she liked it, there was no reason against her continuing it. It was pleasant to hear Nanny talk, and it must be still pleasanter to be the one who had earned her gratitude. Reginald turned away from the cottage more thoughtful, more disposed to listen to Olive's appeals than he had been for a long time.

He walked towards the meadow, and there he saw

Olive, sitting under a tree talking to Mildred Pierson; talking so eagerly that she did not see him. He did not join them; Mildred was no favourite of his, and he bent his steps homewards, annoyed. He had been just in the mood for a talk, and was vexed at being disappointed of it. He said nothing to his mother of the company in which he had found his sister, for he knew she would be vexed. Tea was ready, but Olive did not make her appearance till long after the proper time.

"I wish," said Mrs. Chester, as she and her son at length grew tired of waiting; "I wish Olive would learn to be more punctual. It happens every Sunday when she goes to see old Nanny, and I am sure there is plenty of time after service. It isn't good for her to be reading and talking so long in that little close room."

"Do you think she stays there ?" began Reginald; but Mrs. Chester's look of horror at the possibility of Olive's going anywhere else, stopped him short, and he tried to divert her attention by talking of other things. Olive came in at last, and made very short answers to her mother's remarks upon her lateness.

"Nanny had so much to say," said she, excusing herself. "She kept me longer than I intended; but I couldn't come away in the middle."

No one noticed the look of scorn which passed over Reginald's face, nor the indignant jerk he gave his chair.

Mrs. Chester only said, " Well, my dear, I should have thought my claim as good as Nanny's. Things are changed now; but we never used to think of neglecting our parents to run about after poor people."

But, mamma dear, you know I never meant to neg lect you; besides, I didn't want you to wait for me. don't care about tea."

I

"It puts the house at sixes and sevens, Olive; here are we a whole hour later than usual, and it hurries Ann so much that I should doubt if she will be in time for church. It is not as if it did any good; for I dare say Nanny would learn just as much in one hour as she would in two."

Olive did blush a little then, but she did not speak.

She drank her tea in silence, and quickly, little guessing the harm she had done.

When Mrs. Chester was gone, Reginald's wrath broke forth.

"So this is your religion," said he, contemptuously, "much good it will do you! Humbug! don't you preach to me about reading on Sunday again, Olive. I shall know what it's worth now. I wouldn't have believed it of you! How long has this going to old Nanny's been going on ?"

"Mamma likes me to go to her," returned Olive, composedly.

"She would not like it, if she thought you went to meet that girl; you know it as well as I do, and if this is all the good you get from her, certainly the less you see of her the better," said Reginald sternly.

"She is good, and she does good; she is better than any one else I know," began Olive; but Reginald interrupted her,

"Good at preaching, but not practising, it seems, or she would not encourage you in disobedience to your mother. That's what comes of people setting up to be so much better than their neighbours in some things, that they are obliged to be worse in others. There's Overstone doing just the same; questing about town in search of miserable wretches, and frightening his homefolks out of their lives for fear he should be plucked; and then you'll both tell me you are doing good.' Hang your doing good! The Devil himself can quote Scripture, I've heard."

"Reggie, don't! how can you?" implored Olive.

"How can I? just as easily as you can cheat your mother. Don't give me any more of your religious humbug, I've had enough to last me all my life. You've taught me what it is. I used to think you a great deal better than myself; but, since you've taken up this fit of religion, you seem to have lost your reckoning of right and wrong. Hang me! if I can see the sense of it." How much longer Reginald would have gone on is doubtful; but Mr. Overstone's return put an end to this by no means edifying conversation. Reginald, too,

had "meant well," but it must be owned he had somewhat overshot the mark.

Olive went to her room very unhappy, and there wrote a long confidential epistle to Mildred, detailing her grievances. It may seem strange, but she actually could not see the faultiness of her conduct; for, had not Mildred been the first to awaken her to any sense of religion as a personal thing? Was it not Mildred who had made her see that we are sent into the world to do something more than dress becomingly, and amuse ourselves? Above all, did not those Sunday conversations, stolen though they were, make her feel more earnest in doing good, and more seriously disposed than any books or people she had ever before met with? And was she to give up Mildred, and to give up the only hope of being better, and go back to her thoughtless butterfly-life, just because Mrs. Chester was prejudiced? No, it seemed quite wrong; Mildred would call it weak. No, "I must persevere, whatever it cost," concluded she, with resolution worthy a better cause. The good she thought she gained, counterbalanced in her eyes the evil of her way of gaining it; and she did not stop to question whether the good feelings had led to good actions, nor to consider whether the path of disobedience and deceit would be likely ever really to lead to good.

She wondered whether Reginald would speak to her mother. She did not think it likely, for he would not like worrying her. Olive reasoned rightly. Reginald debated within himself and determined to say nothing. With all his faults he was really fond of his mother, and could not bear to vex her by detailing his sister's delinquencies.

THE LORD OF SABAOTH.

THE LORD of Sabaoth arose in His power,
All girded with might for His conquering hour;
On the wings of the tempest He rode to the fight,
With His chariot-wheels on the clouds of the night.

The thunders of Sina rolled under His tread,
The heavens of light like a garment were spread;
As chaff the foe vanished, His footsteps before,
When the LORD of Sabaoth went forth to the war.

The LORD of Sabaoth is girded with fear,

He breaks of the battle the shield and the spear,

The horse and his rider in tumult go down,

When the LORD of Sabaoth goes forth for His own.

When the LORD led His host through the wilderness track,
The Red Sea beheld Him and Jordan went back :
Why fled'st thou, O Jordan?-What ailed thee, O sea!
'Twas the LORD of Sabaoth who caused you to flee.

Know, Christians, the LORD of Sabaoth is found,
When the hosts of the evil one compass you round;
He marcheth in front of our battle array,
And leadeth our feet by the wilderness way.

For us o'er the waters He lifteth His rod,
For we are His people, the Israel of God;
He leadeth us safe through the desert of Sin,
To the fair land of promise, His Salem within.

From bondage of Egypt our steps will He guide,

Through the Red Sea baptismal which flowed from His side;
The Jordan of death shall delay us no more,

With the Vision of Peace on the furthermost shore.

G. M.

CHURCH PROGRESS IN THE NORTH.

Ir is strange how little those dwelling south of the Tweed, seem to realise the existence, in the northern part of their own country, of anything but Presbyterianism, or that a branch of the Catholic Church is still there in all its pristine truth and beauty, though shorn of its once fair externals, through the unfaithfulness of those who "went out from her, because they were not of her." Yet so it is. A community is even now in our midst, well-nigh coeval with England's own glorious Church, dating from the far off times of old Culdee devotion, and probably even before these. And