erary work brought me, where should I be? An old woman in her
eightieth year, can no longer dine with bishops and princes of the land.
She can take no part in routs, and theatres would be a weariness; but,
thank God, and I beg you, my child, to mark this, I turned from those
vanities to strive to serve the living God when I was in my heyday. And
why? Because I felt them then to be _but_ vanity, often vexation of
spirit, and the higher part of me loathed the false lustre of the gay
world."

Joyce listened attentively to every word Mrs. More said, and her young
heart gave in its allegiance to the beautiful old lady who, in her own
brilliant style, told her of the days of her youth, and of many little
incidents connected with the names of distinguished men and women who
had passed away.

"I expected opposition," she said with a sigh, "but we were a fourfold
band of sisters then, and we could meet a legion of objectors with a
bright face. Now, I alone am left, and can no longer give personal care
to the work. But I have kindled the spark, with God's help, and I do
trust the light will shine over the hills of Somersetshire when I am
laid in yonder churchyard. The Mendip miners give me the most
uneasiness; they are so rough, and wild, and lawless."

"Yes," Joyce said. "We, that is, Mr. Arundel and I, met the man who had
been brought before the magistrates at Wells, and he knocked down Mr.
Arundel, and----"

"I heard of that. Poor Susan Priday, the man's daughter, has been a good
girl, and has had a sad life indeed."

"I felt so sorry for her," Joyce said, "and I should like to help her.
She must be so unhappy with a bad father. If mother would let me, I
should like to have her in the kitchen; but I know she would not allow
it."

Mrs. More smiled.

"I suppose your good mother thinks the education in our school has
spoiled Susan for service.

"Mother is a good mistress," Joyce ventured to say, "and cares for the
maids, as maids, but she has a notion that people who have to earn their
bread, ought not to be able to read."

"Ah! that is a notion many have shared with your mother. Why, when the
great Edward Colston first proposed to begin the good work of education
in Bristol, he was voted by the Mayor and Aldermen as a dangerous
person, likely to turn the sons of the poor into vipers, who should
sting the rich when once they were raised out of ignorance. All that
feeling has passed away in Bristol, as it will pass awa