s, left to himself, became aware of the vanity
his foolish heart had persuaded him was Christian kindness. His enjoyment
was destroyed that evening, for he was full of anxiety lest Mrs. Paget
should talk of the matter, and he wandered restlessly about the rooms,
longing for an opportunity of speaking a kind word for Ferrers, wishing
vainly that what he had said could be undone. He felt more than ever
the necessity of keeping a watch over his heart and tongue, and almost
inclined to despair of ever overcoming the many stumbling-blocks in the
way of attaining to holiness. Thus, little by little, is the evil of
our hearts disclosed to us, and the longer the true Christian lives,
the less he finds to be satisfied with in himself; not that he is
further removed from holiness, but he has more sight given him to
know what he really is by nature--and the nearer he arrives to the
perfect day, the greater is the light to disclose his own deformities,
and the exceeding loveliness of the righteousness he possesses in
Jesus his Lord.

Louis, in common with the young visitors at Heronhurst, thought often
and expectantly of his birthday--and when the morning at last arrived,
he awoke much earlier than usual, with a strong sensation of some great
happiness. The light on the blind of his window was not bright, nor
promising brightness--and when he jumped up and ran to examine the day,
expressing to his brother his hope that the weather was propitious, he
found to his dismay that the rain was pouring in torrents, and the dull
unbroken clouds gave but little promise of a change in the prospect.

"Oh! Reginald, it's raining, raining hard."

"How very provoking!" cried Reginald. "Let me see--there is not much
hope neither--how exceedingly tiresome--there's an end to our fun--who'd
have thought it--how VERY--"

"Hush!" said poor Louis, who was very much disappointed, "it is not
right to say _tiresome_ when it pleases God that the weather shall
not suit us."

"I can't help it," said Reginald.

"I dare say we shall be very happy. I am most sorry about the
school-children."

"I don't care a fig about them," said Reginald, impatiently; "there's
that cricket match, and all."

"What, not the poor little things, Reginald? just think how they have
been expecting this day--it is quite an event for them, and we have so
many pleasures: I dare say you will have the cricket the first fine day."

Reginald felt rather ashamed, and yet unwilling