he morrow; for the morrow will
be anxious for itself." That is, it will bring its own proper load of
labor and of care, from which you have no right to borrow for to-day's
uses; which you cannot diminish by the same process.

George MacDonald puts this great principle aptly:

"You have a disagreeable duty to do at twelve o'clock. Do not blacken
nine, and ten and eleven with the color of twelve. Do the work of
each and reap your reward in peace."

One woman makes it her boast that she never sets bread for the morning
that she does not lie awake half the night wondering how it will "turn
out." She is so besotted in her ignorance as to think that the useless
folly proves her to be a person of exquisite sensibility, whereas it
testifies to lack of self-control, common sense and economical
instincts.

It was old John Newton who likened the appointed tasks and trials of
men to so many logs of wood, each lettered with the name of the day of
the week, and no single one of them too heavy to be borne by a mortal
of ordinary strength. If we will persist; he went on to say, in adding
Tuesday's stick to Monday's, and Wednesday's and Thursday's and
Friday's to that marked for Tuesday, "it is small wonder that we sink
beneath the burden."

Our Heavenly Father would have us carry one stick at a time, and for
this task has regulated our systems--mental, moral and spiritual. We,
like the presumptuous bunglers that we are, bind the sticks into
faggots, and then whine because our strength gives out.

The lesson of unlearning what we have practiced so long is not easy,
but it may be acquired. In your character as day laborer, sift
carefully each morning what belongs to to-day from that which may come
to-morrow. Be rigid with yourself in this adjustment. If you find the
weight beginning to tell upon bodily or mental muscles, ask your
reason, as well as your conscience, whether or not the strain may not
be from to-morrow's log.

For example: You have a servant who suits you, and whom you had hoped
you suited. She is quiet to-day, with a pre-occupied look in her eye
that may mean CHANGE.

As a housekeeper you will sustain me in the assertion that the portent
suffices to send the thermometer of your spirits down to "twenty
above," if not "ten below." Instead of brooding over the train of
discomforts that would attend upon the threatened exodus, bethink
yourself that since Norah cannot go without a week's warning you have
nothing to-d