o a church.

In the meantime the society was flourishing, a new element had been
brought into it, and so far as its literary character was concerned, the
most sanguine expectations of the Rev. John Jay had been met.

Several public meetings had been held, filling the house to overflowing,
and eliciting the highest and most deserving praise. But that was of
course from outsiders, and those simple-minded souls in the church, who
never see evil without looking for good; who indeed are always finding
the latter in everything and in every one but themselves. These were not
competent judges. "Had the church been left to them, where would have
been its sacredness and sanctity? Why, they never even changed their
voices in the Lord's house, and they even wore a smile while there, as
if they had forgotten the Lord was in his holy temple."

Thank God, there are those who carry His image about wherever they go!
Such need not by their own effort show a conscienceness of His presence.
He is the continual light of their countenance, and the gladness and
music he makes in their hearts, is heard in their voice. They worship
and praise with every breath, because their souls must find an outlet to
the great love which holds them.

[Illustration: Decoration]

CHAPTER IX.

A DAY OF PLEASURE.

IT was an unusually warm day in June, and Ruth had dismissed her
scholars early on that account. She stood by the window plucking the
dried leaves off the climbing rose, and thinking how delightful the
approaching vacation would be, when a little hand touched her. Looking
down she found Philip by her side.

"And what will mamma say at having no little boy at home?" she asked,
drawing him nearer, and smoothing back his wavy hair.

"O, mamma knows. She only said I must not trouble you. I guess I
wouldn't do that, though, because I love you too much."

Here the little hand tried to give Ruth's a great squeeze, while such an
effort brought color to the pale cheeks. Not only that, but it brought
something he wanted very much, a kiss.

"You always kiss me for telling you that, Miss Ruth, and so does mamma.
What do you do it for? Do you like little boys to love you?"

"You have not told me how much you love me," was the laughing reply. "I
cannot answer questions till I know all about them."

"O, I love you more than all the world, except my mamma;--isn't that
_ever_ so much?"

"Yes, that is a great deal. Then you don't love any one bu