CHAPTER XI.

"Tell me not in mournful numbers, life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem.

Life is earnest! Life is real! And the grave is not its goal; 'Dust thou art, to dust returnest,' was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, is our destined end or way; But to act as each to-morrow finds us nearer than to-day. Trust no future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead past bury its dead!

Act, act in the living present, heart within and God o'er head.” LONGFELLOW.

"Charge them that are rich in this world, that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life."-1 Tim. vi. 17-19.

WINTER had now set in, and, as Ethel had anticipated, the distress in Carysford was very great. Day after day, whenever she could spare time, she went about among the poor people, listening with untiring patience to the tale of "hard times." She denied herself in everything she could, in order to relieve the want and woe around her. Small was the allowance Mr. Woodville made her for household expenses, and still smaller the amount he gave her for her private purse, out of which, however, he expected her to dress well, and have a surplus for extra occasions.

Many an anxious hour did Ethel spend studying a formidable looking account-book, and in seeing wherein she could save for charitable purposes. But the task was a hard one, for Mr. Woodville expected her to provide so amply for the house as to enable him at any time to bring one or two of his friends in to dinner, and Ethel found it extremely difficult so to arrange matters. Many a little luxury she denied herself, in order to give to the poor; and being a very beautiful fancy-worker, she contrived, by occasionally asking her acquaintances to purchase small articles of her for this purpose, not to be without the means of doing some good. Small though her donations might be, she remembered, that even a cup of cold water given in the name of Christ should not lose its reward.

The Raymonds had been from home some weeks with Lady Harcourt, but Ethel had seen them several times before they went, for they lost no opportunity of cultivating her acquaintance.

Ethel found in Ada a friend whose sterling qualities gradually manifested themselves as she was better known, and whose abruptness and impulsiveness of manner all vanished as their friendship increased. Ada was very glad to return to the quiet of Thurlston after the round of gaiety in their mother's home. She had not forgotten the remarks made by Ethel respecting the poverty and distress there was likely to be in Carysford during the winter, and as soon as they returned she resolved to remind her friend of her promise, to take her to some of the wretched abodes she herself visited. Ethel rejoiced to have her friend home again; her life was indeed a dreary one, for Laura only grew worse in her selfishness, and there was no sympathy to be expected from her. Miss Grant continued

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to reside in Carysford, and scarcely a day passed that Mr. Woodville did not either visit her, or invite her to come to them. Laura had already become weary of Miss Grant's society, though she did not yet discern the turn events were likely to take, or sufficiently divine her true character. Miss Hackett and the Raymonds were the only people who really seemed from the first to have been conscious of the issue of things, but they forebore to mention the subject to Ethel from feelings of delicacy. Poor old Miss Hackett was fading away; the dark night of Death threw his shade around her slowly, but most surely was she marked for his victim. Still, as life grew more burdensome, heaven grew brighter in prospect, and her mind expanded to the blessed hope of eternal life through Jesus Christ. Ethel now devoted some hours during the week to her, and in this case the young girl had a clearer insight into the truths of redemption than her old friend. By the bedside of suffering, and in the time of sorrow, Ethel's character appeared in its most beautiful light. She was ever ready to pour hope and whisper words of peace into the sinner's ear, and to lead the heart to the Saviour she had herself found so precious; thus Miss Hackett had learned to look upon the child of her friend in the light of an instructor, so able did she seem to lead her and guide her to "the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world."

A few mornings after the Raymonds' return, Ethel was surprised by a call at an early hour from Ada, who begged she would, if at liberty, take her to see some poor people, as she was very anxious to begin those deeds of charity Ethel had pointed out as her duty. Ethel was but too glad to accompany her, and they set out without delay. It was a bitterly cold

morning in December. The snow lay in thick, crisp masses on the house-tops; scarcely white now, but still leaving no doubt on the minds of people that it was snow, nevertheless. The air was not only intensely cold, but an uncomfortable thickness in it rendered it peculiarly unpleasant in the town, and by no means tempting to those who merely walked for pleasure. But the two friends heeded it not, as they trudged along the street, bent on their errand of mercy.

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Now, dear Ada, I must prepare you to meet with many discouragements; you will probably be startled, and even disgusted, by what you may see and hear among the poor here. They are very rough, and often it is impossible to distinguish between what is meant for civility and incivility. There is a feeling of independence among many, which leads them to believe they have no betters-that they are as good as anybody else, and have no occasion to render 'honour to whom honour is due.""

"Oh, I am quite prepared for it,” replied Ada, smiling.

"There is an old friend of mine coming down the street, I see," said Ethel, as an old man, very tall, painfully thin, and badly dressed, crossed over to them, trembling with cold.

"Well, Sammy, how are you to-day ?"

"Varrer bad, Miss, varrer. Hard set to get a bit o' bre-arth. But I thout I mon turn out to ax ye to gi' me sixpence to buy a few coils,* for I'm varrer near starved to dee-arth i' yon hoil† o' mine."

"What does he mean?" inquired Ada, in a low

voice.

"He wants some coals, he has no fire to-day."

"Oh! then let me give him something," whispered

Ada.

Thanks, I shall be glad if you will."

Ada took out a well-filled purse, and handed him five shillings.

“Thank ye, my lass; I'se fair set up wi' this! Woo is shoo?" he inquired, turning to Ethel.

"Miss Raymond, from Thurlston Hall."

"I knaw! I knaw! Well, thank ye, and bless ye, And the old man hobbled off to pur

mony a time."

chase firing.

"How delightful it is to give, and to see people grateful!" exclaimed Ada, joyously. "Dear Herbert has been kind. I had spent so much money in London, I had really nothing to look for at present. He discovered this, and do you know I found a letter on my table last night, inclosing a fifty-pound note, as he knew I had been extravagant. He is such a good brother, and makes me so many handsome presents, I really feel ashamed to receive them sometimes. I shall spend most of it on the poor, and Herbert will be glad to assist in any work of charity, he says; so I hope we shall do a great deal of good this winter.

"You will indeed find it pleasant, dear Ada; I feel almost inclined to envy you who are rich, it is such a luxury to give," Ethel said, with difficulty repressing the rising sigh.

"So it is, Ethel; but being rich does not bring happiness. I would readily become poor if I could have the same blessed assurance as you, that I was really a child of God."

"Yes, that is indeed the great thing, and I feel I would not, for all earth's treasures, lose the blessed hope of eternal life. Now, as we are near the first house, I must warn you that you will perhaps not meet with