As if from constant upward look, There's beauty in a good man's smile, Oh! in this world which God has made, M. W. "CHARITY THINKETH NO EVIL." I CLOSED the pages of my Testament, drew my chair close to the fireside, and mused upon these words until I almost forgot where I was. I pictured to myself, Charity; not as an abstract idea—or a commendable virtue-but a living, breathing reality; the personification of all moral goodness; and so beautiful did she appear in mine eyes, that I ardently wished I could find the original of so fair a portrait. "Well," I exclaimed, arousing at length from my reverie, "perhaps, I may be so fortunate as to meet with her to-day. Who can tell? I have some visits to make this morning-most of them to very good, excellent people and I should not be at all surprised if I were to discover in some favoured dwelling the object of my search. At all events I will try." Charmed with this hope I ran up stairs for my bonnet and shawl. Yes, dear reader, I am one of the gentler sex; I never intended to conceal that fact, for I knew you would be sharp enough to see it; only a woman, you imagine, would be so dreamy, and inexperienced, as to wander forth into the busy, selfish, bustling world, in search of Charity-the charity which thinketh no evil. Well, perhaps, you are right. It was a lovely morning, and I walked briskly on. The first place where I stopped, was at a pretty cottage, with a tastefully laid out garden in front. Equally pretty and tasteful looking was the mistress of this genteel abode. She welcomed me with so much cordiality, inquired so kindly after my health and my friends, and talked with such pleasant ease upon a variety of topics, that I mentally congratulated myself on having come at once to the right spot. "Charity thinketh no evil." This really must be she. I waited to be sure. "What beautiful weather we shall have, if it continue fine, for our Sunday school treat." "Indeed we shall," I responded; "I hope it will pass off nicely. How indefatigable Mrs. Seymour is in superintending all the preparations; it is very good of her to take so much interest and trouble about it." "Oh, it isn't altogether out of love to the children," was the reply, accompanied by an expressive smile; "Mrs Seymour wouldn't work so hard as she does for them only; she wants to get the chief management of the school into her own hands; she can't bear to be second in anything. Besides, we are all trying to shine forth in our best colours just now you know, when we have our new Minister to criticize us." Was this charity? I thought not. Away I went to the humble dwelling of Widow Mayfield, to leave her a book which I had promised to lend her to read. I had only recently become ac quainted with her; but the little I had seen of her had much prepossessed me in her favour. She was a pale, meek-looking woman, with one of the neatest of caps, and the tidiest of rooms; always busy, and yet never in a bustle. And her remarks, very quietly and modestly made, indicated a spirit of earnest and cheerfulhearted piety, which delighted me. After a little religious conversation had passed between us, I inquired whether she knew how her neighbour, Thomas Peters, was. He had injured his leg sometime before; and, on account of his lameness, was unable to go to his work as usual. "and "He says he is no better, ma'am," answered the widow, with her unvaried sedateness of manner, he certainly ought to know best about it; but I never saw any one recover so slowly. To be sure he is not likely to be in a hurry, when he has his family kindly provided for, and nourishing food sent to him, while he is laid up.' Again I was disappointed-this could not be charity; the charity which thinketh no evil! Yet I was not discouraged; I was too ardent a seeker to give up my researches already. So I pursued my walk, thinking over my two visits, until my reflections were interrupted by the loud but cheerful tones of a young lady, who was coming towards me. That young lady was Arabella Thornton, a merry good-humoured laughter-loving girl, full of health and spirits, and willing to do a service for anybody who needed it. As I felt the hearty grasp of her hand, and looked up at her sunny countenance, I trusted that my cherished hope, the hope of meeting with Charity, was about to be realized. Alas, Miss Bella's first words scattered my hope to the winds. "You did not see me at first," she said, "and I half thought that you were going to pass me as Miss Hobson did yesterday, only I knew you too well for that. She did not vouchsafe me a single glance, though her dress almost brushed mine as she went by. It was too bad, wasn't it? "My dear Bella, you forget, or, perhaps, you are not aware, how short-sighted Miss Hobson is.' "Ah, it's very convenient to be short-sighted sometimes," said the young lady, gaily; "but it was my unfashionable attire, and "humble" position which caused the defect in the lady's vision just then. Of course she did not wish to know me out of doors; Lady Harland, or the Hon. Mary Etherington might have been walking near us, you know, and what would they have said ? ” No, no, such a speech would never have come out of Charity's lips, and I said so to my young friend, for I thought she needed a word in season. She coloured a little at my plain dealing, but she was too sensible and even tempered to be offended with it, and I hope may do her good. it I hastened onwards, and presently lifted the knocker at Egremont Villa. Mr. Leslie is the treasurer of a certain charitable society with which I am connected, and I called upon him for the purpose of paying my own subscription, and a few others which I had collected from my friends. Mr. Leslie is a refined and intellectual man, belongs to innumerable societies, and is the warm promoter of every benevolent undertaking. It struck me that in his company I should very likely meet with Charity, for he was just the kind of person to choose so amiable and lovely an associate. Was I too sanguine? I don't know, dear reader; but I do know that Charity did not come into the room while I was there. I thought Mr. Leslie had never seemed in so unamiable a mood; he was engaged with his accounts, perhaps that was the reason. I told him that I had brought him a less sum than usual, having lost one of my best subscribers in Mr. Morton through his late failure in business. Ah, that was a sad affair at his time of life! It ought not to have occurred. His connexion was good, and his returns, I should think, steady; there must have been great extravagance in his domestic expenditure. He had a fine country house I believe, for one thing, and the children were always handsomely dressed." "As he was a draper," I said, "that was very natural; and the country-house was solely on Mrs. Morton's account, as her health would not allow her to live in town." "Health! oh yes, that is a very good excuse for people who want to live stylishly. I have met her several times in company, and she appeared perfectly well. It is a pity that people will not consider what is right instead of what is fashionable." Very true; but this was a point which did not interest me much just then; I was on the look-out for Charity, and as she evidently had not taken up her abode with Mr. Leslie, I departed to prosecute my search elsewhere. It was to Mrs. Arnold's that I now bent my steps. A short, rather stout, energetic, setevery-body-to-rights sort of personage, was Mrs. Arnold, with a very pleasant admixture of friendliness and warm heartedness in her manner, which somewhat atoned for her sharpness. I was ushered into the parlour, where mamma and her three nearly grown-up daughters were stitching away with great industry at some children's frocks and pinafores. They all greeted me kindly; and Mrs. Arundel laid down her work for a chat, but the young ladies did not relax their efforts. "Oh, how did you enjoy the missionary meeting at Mrs. Gordon's?" said Mrs Arundel, presently. "Very much indeed; Miss Harrison's account of her school abroad was deeply interesting; she is a most devoted and successful missionary teacher." Mrs. Arundel assented; not however with her usual heartiness. I saw that there was something behind. |