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pleasant change to them, having always lived in London.

“I think it will be pleasant indeed,” said Effie; and she thought, though she did not say so, that any place would be pleasant under the bright and kindly influence of Miss Judith's thoughtful care.

“Ah, here come my little flower-girls. Now let us go out and meet them.” And, so saying, Miss Judith led the way through the long window which opened upon the lawn, and a troop of village children, each one with a basket on her arm, came laughing through the shrubbery, to receive the meed of praise and admiration which they knew their golden treasures would call forth.

“Oh, Helen," said Effie, “I wish we might stay here; but I suppose we must go home soon.

“No, we need not,” said Helen, “my aunt does not want us. She is going out with Lady Laura. I thought I had told you."

“Oh, I am so glad. I have been think. ing every minute you would say it was time to go.”

And now the garden was one scene of pleasant delight, and glad voices were heard, and old Mr. Marsh was foremost in the games, and Effie joined with all the glee of her young and joyous nature. And the long wooden table was spread under the lime-trees, and new milk and cakes were served out to the rosy little group, and afterwards they went up to the house, and stood on the lawn, where the invalid Miss Marsh could see them from her window; and her sweet, gentle face gave the smile of welcome, and was to the children like a spoken blessing before their departure. They sung to her their sweetest songs, and were then dismissed as they came, to associate for ever in their minds, old age with kindness, and sunshine, and joy.

“Now let us go up-stairs,” said Helen, "for we may only stay half an hour longer, and we must sce Miss Sarah.”

Effic followed her cousin up-stairs, and

they entered Miss Marsh's pleasant little sitting-room. It opened out of her bed-room, and looked upon their lovely garden. The invalid's countenance spoke of long and severe suffering, but it told also of a joy which that suffering was unable to reach or to disturb. Effie looked at her with veneration and silent wonder. A new chapter of human life seemed to be opening upon her, and she longed to understand it, but could as yet only partially do so. This room, like the one they had been shown into below, was most attractive in its appearance. Beautiful paintings hung upon the walls, flower-stands with camellias and azaleas near the windows, books new and old on the table, and fancy-work of several kinds -all told the pleasant tale that this house was not only the abode of Christian love, but also of refinement, and education, and cultivated taste.

After they had conversed for a short time, Helen drew her cousin's attention to one or two of the paintings, which were of Miss

were

Marsh's own performance. They were really beautiful, and Effie could freely admire them; and then, casting her eye nipon an unfinished small one, which was lying on the table, she asked permission to look at it.

"It is very beautiful,” said she; “shall you hang it with the others when you have finished it ?

“No, my dear, this and two or three others are for a special purpose. They will be converted into writing folios, and are intended for the Soho Bazaar. There is a young person there in whom we are much interested. You know her, Miss Burnet, Ralph Murton's sister. She has been advised to take a stall, and we are trying to assist her in a small way, by supplying her with a few fancy articles. It is so little I can do, but it is such a comfort to be able to do any. thing."

What a very good plan!” said Effie, “and what a very kind thought! And is this pretty fancy-work going there too ?

“Some of it, my dear, and some is for a poor blind woman up here in our hamlet. Her little daughter will take it to the market-town, next time she gets a lift in the gardener's cart, and she will dispose of it there."

“Have you had a long attack of illness this time, Miss Marsh ?" said Helen.

“No, my dear; I have not been confined to my room more than a week.

“And have you been suffering again from that severe pain ?"

“Yes, indeed I have, but it is past now, and I am so enjoying this present respite. Everything I look upon seems full of joy."

“Dear Miss Marsh," said Effie, with a look of wonder, “how can it be? A life of pain, and privation, and monotonous confinement, and yet everything, you say, looks full of joy !"

“It is quite true, my dear; I think I have more real happiness now than I have ever had at any previous time of my life. The day

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