arising in the quietest walks of life, and the most godly homes. Sophia set herself to be a Christian. disciple whatever the nature of outward circumstances. Childhood was passing away. The solemn and mysterious future lay before her. Leaving Northampton, to return no more, was felt by her to be an impressive event. The last lesson, as a school-girl, had been received. New tasks were before her.

Fresh responsibilities would be hers. Most likely there would be joys and sorrows differing widely from those hitherto experienced. She could not foresee how long the journey of life would be, nor what portion thereof would be marked by sunshine and what portion by gloom. But, if she proved faithful to his grace, the Lord Jehovah, the God of her father, would ever be nigh, and would manifest himself to be her unchangeable friend. It was enough that all would be known to him, and controlled by him. The youthful pilgrim still prayed that he would continue to be "the guide of her youth."

CHAPTER VI.

LEARNING AT HOME.

"If I were a sunbeam,

I know what I would do;
I would seek white lilies

Rainy woodlands through.
I would steal among them,
Softest light I'd shed
Until every lily

Raised its drooping head.

If I were a sunbeam,
I know where I'd go ;
Into lowliest hovels,

Dark with want and woe.
Till sad hearts looked upward,
I would shine and shine;
Till they'd think of heaven,

Their sweet home and mine."

SCHOOL days were over! Sophia would no more have to take her place as a pupil in a class, and repeat to a teacher lessons committed to memory. But the dear girl already understood that the days of her learning were only fully commenced. She would now be subjected to various discipline as arranged by Divine Providence, and would have lessons appointed continually, and be at school seven days in every week. Indeed there was another sense in which her school days would be prolonged. It was likely that, after some brief interval, she would be engaged in tuition, and,

of course, for a time, as a youthful teacher, having much to learn. But, according to ordinary phraseology, her school days were over, and, for a time, she returned to her paternal home, right glad to meet her father and others dear to her.

Any change in outward circumstances is likely to exercise some influence over our spiritual condition; and, without earnest watchfulness, that influence will prove unfavourable. When roots are transplanted it is that they may become more vigorous. The fibres are to strike deeper into the earth, and to partake more largely of nourishment, and to find a larger place for growth. The breeze, and the shower, and the sunshine, are all to have freer access to them. So there will be, it is hoped, flowers of richer hue and more abundant fragrance, or fruit larger, and sweeter, and more plenteous. Such is the purpose of the gardener when he transplants the growing roots under his care. But the period of change is not altogether devoid of solicitude. Not unfrequently the result is calamitous. The tender plant which flourished whilst sheltered in the frame or otherwise, and gave promise of large worth or beauty in the future, becomes enfeebled, perhaps loses its vitality altogether, or receives a considerable check. So it is with the human soul, in the various changes of outward sort to which it is subjected. The design of the gracious Husbandman. is always benevolent. He desires more fruit and better. He provides that such should be produced. The change is intended for good. Yet is the period. one of considerable danger. Because of our own unwatchfulness and worldliness, the concealed evils of our heart, instead of being overcome and destroyed

when discovered by the change, may be allowed to gain some degree of mastery.

It is of course desirable that children, who have, whilst at school or under the direct influence of godly parents, yielded their hearts to the Saviour, should be, in due time, placed in circumstances in which the graces of God's Holy Spirit within them should be tested and invigorated. We could not wish that the days of their childhood and inexperience should be indefinately prolonged. It is, certainly, desirable that the flower should be allowed to expand, and the fruit be brought to perfection. That the dear children, who have begun to love Jesus, may become men and women of God, they need larger room and a varied discipline. We acquiesce in the arrangements of Divine Providence securing this. Yet we look on with deep solicitude. Are there not thousands of men and women at the present time, who are far from God, perhaps not devoid of the externalism of religion, or, perhaps openly profligate, who, years ago were lovely children and walking, as children, "in the fear of God and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost." We cannot alter the plans of the Most High, and must not even wish to do so. But, the youthful disciple must be on his guard as the hour of trial approaches, and those who have safely passed through the ordeal, and are now experienced in the things of God, must afford loving counsel and help to those little ones. So shall the grace of God become gloriously abundant within them. The tender plant shall become like the palm tree and the cedar. In due time those who are now as mere seedlings in the nurseries provided in pious homes and godly schools shall be trees of righteous

G

ness, abundant in fruit, glorious in beauty, majestic in strength, blessing the neighbourhood where they have been planted, and fitted for the paradise of God. Sophia Denham safely passed through this period of change; because, in earnest, persevering, and believing prayer, she sought help from the Most High.

The latter part of the year 1860 was chiefly spent at home. Sophia was still earnestly seeking to know the will of her Lord, that she might do it. At times she was greatly depressed in consequence of the temptations of the adversary, and because of imperfections in herself of which she was more conscious than those around her were. She had discovered in God's blessed word a high standard of excellence. This she constantly placed before her mind, and ardently sought its attainment. Because she did not fully attain that she was seeking, she was, at times, greatly discouraged, and could find no comfort except in approaching the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness, and, in the exercise of penitent faith, plunging into that fountain. To others her conduct appeared exceedingly exemplary, and well calculated to remind thoughtful onlookers of the admonition given by St. Peter to godly women: "Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. For after this manner in the old time the holy women also, who trusted in God, adorned themselves," &c.

Whilst at home, and in her general deportment, Sophia manifested a docile and retiring spirit, making