ng for the same skilful hand, in order to
clothe in such glowing colours some of the favourite texts which shone
for her like beams of light from heaven.

But she had no talent for drawing; and though by diligent practice she
improved very much in playing and singing, she knew she should never
be able to do either like her cousin Sophy. How useful, she thought,
might she not be, if her heart were but actuated by love to Christ!
She felt she dared not speak to her on this subject, but she often
prayed to Him who can command the hearts of all, that He would touch
and renew that of her cousin Sophy.

Between Stella and Lucy, dissimilar as they were, there existed a
strong cousinly affection. Stella, with all her bantering ways, would
never now go so far as seriously to annoy her, generally taking her
side when she thought the others were too much for her. But though
Lucy tried earnestly to draw her cousin towards the knowledge of her
Saviour, all such attempts seemed to glance off her, like raindrops
from an oiled surface. She was quite satisfied with herself as she
was, and had not yet found out the insufficiency of the earthly
pleasures which at present satisfied her. She believed, of course, in
another world, and the need of a preparation for it, but she thought
there was plenty of time for that; and it had never entered within the
range of her comprehension that the change of heart, which is the
necessary preparation for a future life, is as necessary to living
either well or happily in the present. So that Lucy was constantly
feeling that, in the most important matters of all, there could be no
genuine sympathy between them.

Nor among her schoolmates was her longing for sympathy between them
more fully gratified. They were all actuated by the "spirit of this
world which passeth away," and avoided everything that could bring the
thought of another to their minds; so that she had not found one with
whom she could speak on the subjects most dear to her, or hold an
intercourse mutually helpful.

There was, indeed, one of her schoolmates, a Miss Eastwood, a boarder
at Mrs. Wilmot's, in whom, from her sweet, serious manner and
appearance, and from some other tokens, she thought she might have
found a congenial friend. But Miss Eastwood was a little older than
herself, and Lucy's natural shyness was increased by the impression
that she rather avoided her and Stella, probably from knowing that Mr.
Brooke's was a thoroug