brought up in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord.

Bathsheba had been worried over and perplexed and depressed with vague
apprehensions about her condition, conveyed in mysterious phrases and
graveyard expressions of countenance, until about the age of fourteen
years, when she had one of those emotional paroxysms very commonly
considered in some Protestant sects as essential to the formation of
religious character. It began with a shivering sense of enormous guilt,
inherited and practised from her earliest infancy. Just as every breath
she ever drew had been malignantly poisoning the air with carbonic acid,
so her every thought and feeling had been tainting the universe with sin.
This spiritual chill or rigor had in due order been followed by the
fever-flush of hope, and that in its turn had ushered in the last stage,
the free opening of all the spiritual pores in the peaceful relaxation of
self-surrender.

Good Christians are made by many very different processes. Bathsheba had
taken her religion after the fashion of her sect; but it was genuine, in
spite of the cavils of the formalists, who could not understand that the
spirit which kept her at her mother's bedside was the same as that which
poured the tears of Mary of Magdala on the feet of her Lord, and led her
forth at early dawn with the other Mary to visit his sepulchre.

Myrtle was a child of nature, and of course, according to the out-worn
formulae which still shame the distorted religion of humanity, hateful to
the Father in Heaven who made her. She had grown up in antagonism with
all that surrounded her. She had been talked to about her corrupt nature
and her sinful heart, until the words had become an offence and an
insult. Bathsheba knew her father's fondness for young company too well
to suppose that his intercourse with Myrtle had gone beyond the
sentimental and poetical stage, and was not displeased when she found
that there was some breach between them. Myrtle herself did not profess
to have passed through the technical stages of the customary spiritual
paroxysm. Still, the gentle daughter of the terrible preacher loved her
and judged her kindly. She was modest enough to think that perhaps the
natural state of some girls might be at least as good as her own after
the spiritual change of which she had been the subject. A manifest
heresy, but not new, nor unamiable, nor inexplicable.

The excellent Bishop Joseph Hall, a painful preacher an