CHAPTER XIX.

SUMMER TALKS AND SUMMER CONFESSIONS.

"We live in deeds, not years, in thoughts, not breaths,
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart throbs; he most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best."

"Reader, whosoe'er thou art,

What God has given thee, impart ;
Hide it not within the ground,

Send the cup of blessing round."

BAILEY.

J. CONDER.

JUNE came at length, and with it Florence and Maud Winton to Lawn Cottage. They entered with great warmth into Grace's life, accompanying her, when permitted, in her visitings amongst the poor.

“O! Grace,” said Florence one day, “I would give worlds to be living the useful life you live, feeling that I was really necessary to those around me. I sometimes wonder what I am doing in the world. I know it isn't for every woman to come out as prominently as you have done, but yet, surely every woman may

be living for some high and noble purpose. I mean she may be useful in her day and generation."

"So she is," said Grace, “no good woman ever lived in vain, although outwardly she may have seemed to have done nothing. It is not in doing that a woman's goodness displays itself so much as in being. We have our different work to do, but remember it is the motive that sanctifies the work, not the work the motive. Hence, with a heart full of love to God, and a prayerful yearning to serve Him, the smallest duties of home life become as important as any active labour outside; and although we may have our secret longing to be used in this way or that, we are content to do what He puts within our power and circumstances, recognizing the fact that the perfect surrender of our will is the highest service-much, much higher than making the greatest stir or doing grand deeds from any motive less than the certainty that God has called us to so work for Him."

"Perhaps," said Florence meditatively, "that will account for the seemingly listless lives of so many Christians. It puzzles me so much sometimes to notice what appears such deadness and apathy on the part of good people. They can talk what May would call goody talk, but even that seems to belong to them as a kind of Sunday dress, just got out for special occasions, while their lives, as a rule, are in no way different to other people's."

Grace looked very thoughtful. This was a subject

that often distressed her—she felt it more deeply than many would, because she so frequently found the terrible influence the listless lives of professing Christians had upon the careless and profane. She said gently and very sadly,—

"Florence! there can be no excuse for the terrible apathy of those bearing Christ's name, contradicting by their lives the 'I believe' of their lips. Better not to call themselves Christians than by an utter disregard of the standard He has set up for them, to dishonour Him who has given them their work to do in this world. Some urge the need of better and more faithful preaching in the present day, asking, 'Where are the Whitfields, and Wesleys, and Grimshaws, and Venns of the last century?' but surely the sermons most needed are the consistent lives of Christians, lives which in every action prove their earnestness and belief. Florence! we women have much to do with this; if we can afford to be vain, and frivolous, and trifling, thinking more of wealth, position, and accomplishments than of real sterling worth and goodness, we, however unconscious to ourselves the influence, weaken and impoverish the tone of thought around us. It is often the wife's firm faith and noble living that keep the husband steadfast, the mother's gentle goodness and piety that are as guardian angels to her children's faith, the sister's earnestness and love that help the brother to be strong and brave when in the midst of life's tempta

tions! No, Florence, the usefulness of a woman's life does not consist in the work she does amongst the poor (although that may be a part of her vocation), but it lies in her home life of piety and genuine faith. 'Does she make home better, happier, holier?' not, 'how much time does she give to the poor?' is the test by which to judge whether a woman is doing good in her day and generation."

Florence was silent for a minute, then she said, "People misjudge you, Grace. I have heard some speak as if you thought a life devoted to the poor was the only life for a Christian."

Grace smiled. "Many do not understand—we will scarcely say misjudge-me, Florence. I wonder sometimes how it is they are so apt to mis-interpret my life; it is because they do not understand that they urge me to give up my speaking, at cottage and other meetings, about the love of Christ for sinners. They look upon my work as a kind of profession which I have taken up, and which I only need to be convinced is wrong to relinquish; and cannot realize that my work is my mission. What I do, I do not of myself. I feel as much convinced that God has called me to labour for Him thus as other women know their life of faith is to be exercised at home and

in quiet retirement. I have but one answer to all arguments and reasons against speaking publicly as well as privately of God's love. I feel God has called me to the work, and, while it is so, surely it were vain

and sinful to let anything man might say stop or impede me! Should the day come when I felt this special mission cease, I hope I should be as ready to retire into the quieter and more ordinary duties of a woman's life as I am now anxious to speak wherever circumstances and opportunities urge my doing so."

The next day, while Grace was getting on her things to go out with her two visitors, May came running up to her room.

“May I come in?" she asked, peeping in at the half-open door with her bright beaming face.

“To be sure,” said Grace, giving her a hearty kiss. "How blooming you look, May-you seem to be a messenger of good news; is it so?"

May's cheeks became crimson, and she buried her face on Grace's shoulder and was silent. Then, as Grace said softly, “What is it, May, something has made you very glad, darling-tell me what it is; shall I guess?"

“No, No,” she said, clinging fondly to her, "I will tell you, Grace. Henry St George loves me, and I am so happy, and God is so good!" and the blushing girl held her lips up to be kissed.

Grace embraced her warmly. "I am so, so glad, my darling," said she in earnest tones, "I have a little wondered lately if it were not so."

"Then you are not surprised?" said May eagerly. "O! Grace, he has told me all about it, how good and kind you were last summer, and how rightly you