tion, my dear, is the first step towards improvement; without this nothing can be done. Nor need any one be greatly discouraged even should they find much to be done. It should stimulate to extra exertion, and by no means lead to despondency. From sad experience I know the wide difference between our planning and reforming: weak resolutions and halfefforts will never do. If we wish to amend, we must make up our minds to hard work; nothing but real fighting can insure victory.

"You know far better than I on what your dissatisfaction is grounded; it is not my business to inquire. I would only urge you by every argument not to rest contented at this critical period with careless complaints or faint endeavours, but to be absolute and prompt; and that the disease may not be 'healed slightly,' do not set about external reformations, nor rest satisfied till you really are what you would appear to be. Desire to become a sterling character; and whether or not you excite the admiration of strangers, be ambitious to respect yourself, and to win the esteem of your best friends and nearest associates. A prevailing

desire for admiration, if not wholly incompatible with moral and religious improvement, is, I believe, the greatest bar to it.

"How encouraging too are the promises of a new heart and a right spirit to those earnestly seeking them; so that we have no right to despond. Only, this must not tempt us to relax our own exertions. We must watch as well as pray, for heavenly arms are provided on purpose that we may fight with them."

CHAPTER VIII.

HOME AGAIN.

N June 1816, Jane Taylor and her brother bade adieu to Marazion, with its balmy airs, sea-girt views, and Christian friends, bending their steps slowly and circuitously towards home. In the journey Anne's new home was included, and a six weeks' sojourn in Yorkshire yielded them the liveliest enjoyment. The home was all they could desire: affection within, agreeable society in the neighbourhood, hearts and opportunities for Christian influence and usefulness. By the last of August, however, she dates from Ongar, and thus describes her return:

"I think my last was written from Sheffield. We soon after took a painful leave of our dear sister, and returned, after a three years' absence,

to Ongar. Oh, what a pleasure it was to be welcomed by kind parents to a home! Nothing could exceed their kindness and indulgence. And after so long an interval, we knew how to value this affection. They thought me not looking well; and it has been my dear mother's constant business to nurse me up again during my stay. Our house stands alone in a pretty country. It is an old farm-house, more picturesque than splendid, and therefore it suits both our tastes and our fortunes. All my love of nature returned in a scene so well adapted to excite it; and it was delightful to see our dear father and mother enjoying, in their declining years, so peaceful a retreat, and wishing for no other pleasures than their house and garden and their mutual affection afford."

"I wish this fine morning," she writes to another, "I could take a turn with you in your pleasant garden, and talk instead of write; or rather, if wishing were of any avail, I would wish that you could take a turn with me in mine, which I think you would enjoy. I must, however, tell you something of our movements. We stayed a fortnight longer with Anne than

we proposed: the time passed pleasantly, and we were unwilling to part. I think, however, you, who know my taste for retirement and my dislike of general company, would have pitied me if you had seen the continued bustle of visiting with which my time was occupied. The contrast with our mode of life at Marazion was as great as it could be; perhaps the total change of scene was what I needed.

On the 13th of August we left Rotherham, and in a few days reached our dear paternal home, after an absence of three years. It was indeed a joyful meeting. And when, that evening, we once more knelt around the family altar, I believe our hearts glowed with gratitude to Him who had permitted us thus to assemble in peace and comfort, and had disappointed all our fears. Here we are again in complete retirement; and a sweeter retreat I do not wish for. We are nearly a mile from the town, and surrounded with the green fields. The house is an old-fashioned place, with a pretty garden, which it is the delight of my father and mother to cultivate. At the door is a rural porch, covered with a vine. Here we