ture of God, and she will not find
much said in reproof of her manners."

"Are you always trying to be kind to everybody, Flora?"

"I hope so, Cary," she said, gravely.

"Flora, have you any friend?" said I. "I mean a particular friend--a
girl friend like yourself."

"Yes," she said. "My chief friend is Annas Keith."

"Mr Duncan Keith's sister?"

"Yes," said Flora.

"Do tell me what she is like," said I.

"I am not sure that I could," said Flora. "And if I did, it would only
be like looking at a map. Suppose somebody showed you a map of the
British Isles, and put his finger on a little pink spot, and told you
that was Selkirk. How much wiser would you be? You could not see the
Yarrow and Ettrick, and breathe the caller air and gather the purple
heather. And I don't think describing people is much better than to
show places on a map. Such different things strike different people."

"How?" said I. "I don't see how they could, in the same face."

"As we were coming from Carlisle with Uncle Courtenay," said Flora,
smiling, "I asked him to tell me what you were like, Cary."

"Well, what did Father say?" I said, and I felt very much amused.

"He said, `Oh, a girl with a pale face and a lot of light thatch on it,
with fine ways that she picked up in Carlisle.' But when I came to see
you, I thought that if I had had to describe you, those were just the
things I should not have mentioned."

"Come, then, describe me, Flora," said I, laughing. "What do you see?"

"I see two large, earnest-looking blue eyes," she said, "under a broad
white forehead; eyes that look right at you; clear, honest eyes,--not--
at least, the sort of eyes I like to look at me. Then I see a small
nose--"

"Let my nose alone, please," said I: "I know it turns up, and I don't
want to hear you say so."

Flora laughed. "Very well; I will leave your nose alone. Underneath
it, I see two small red lips, and a little forward chin; a rather
self-willed little chin, if you please, Cary--and a good figure, which
has learned to hold itself up and to walk gracefully. Will that do for
a description?"

"Yes," I said, looking in the glass; "I suppose that is me."

"Is it, Cary? That may be all I see; but is it you? Why, it is only
the morocco case that holds you. You are the jewel inside, and what
that is, really and fully, I cannot see. God can see it; and you can
see some of it. But I can see only what you choose to show me, or,