summer."

'And then he went on to talk about his intentions, and inquired my
opinion of some particular sentiments that he had been writing down,
until he became so much excited that I was obliged to order the removal
of all his papers. Poor fellow! he will never preach a sermon. In his
impatience to become useful, he has destroyed his power to do good.'

'I don't think,' said Effie, 'that poor Mr Varden makes knowledge his
_god_ exactly, because he does it all for good; but it would be very
wicked for Harry or me to do so, because we know how wrong it is. I wish
everybody that praised people for studying too hard could know it is
wicked.'

'But remember,' said Mr Maurice, 'that where one person's cheek is
paled by hard study, fifty make themselves utterly useless by neglecting
the bodily exercise which _moderate_ mental effort demands. It is
aversion to active employment, and not the love of knowledge, that has
slain its hundreds and crippled its thousands.'

CHAPTER IX.

THE FUNERAL.

It was a bright and sunshiny day, and so warm as to make the snow moist
and yielding beneath the foot--such a day as children love and choose
for their happiest sports; but to at least two children it was anything
but a day of pleasure. Poor Mrs Gilman's little James had lingered on
beyond all expectation, and finally died, calmly and quietly, as if he
had been composing himself for sleep. And so it was--a long sleep.

This was the day on which the little one was to be buried, and Harry
and Effie were sincere mourners. Not like the poor mother--oh no, no one
could feel like her--but they wept as one child of adversity weeps for
another, all through life, from the cradle to the grave.

Children are sad when they see those of their own age falling like the
spring flowers around them; and when the little infant grows cold and
lifeless in its cradle, beneath a loving mother's eye, and is borne away
to the silent, lonely graveyard, they insensibly grow thoughtful, and if
they have been deprived of previous instructions, death becomes their
teacher, and for a little time they grow wise beneath the influence of
his lessons.

But Harry and Effie had not been thus deprived, and as hand in hand
they followed the little coffin to the grave, through their tears of
sadness and sympathy there gleamed out a bright and elevated expression,
almost a happy one, which shewed that they looked beyond these
sorrow-claiming objects, and saw