have scarcely patience to write of it. Nasty is much too mild a term. It is the very extreme essence of nastiness. By all means be kind and gentle to your dumb favourites, and bestow even a loving word or a caress upon them in due season; but only in due season, remember, and not at all times and in all places, as though they were much-cherished infants.

Finally, two important counsels may be given in closing this chapter: first, all excess in recreations must be avoided; secondly, none must ever be undertaken, of which that faithful monitor, conscience, does not thoroughly and heartily approve. As regards its excess, then, recreation, like sleep, must be carefully regulated. Sleep itself is not beneficial, but injurious, if too much indulged in; and, in like manner, you may have more than is good for you, even of pleasure and

amusement.

There must be restriction and regulation in this, as in all other things, or recreation becomes absolutely mischievous. You must think of your pleasures and amusements, as well as of the more earnest business of life, when you offer your daily prayer that you may not be led into temptation. And to that prayer you must add a fervent peti

tion, that special grace may be granted you for the exercise of self-denial and self-renunciation, so that "whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do," you may "do all to the glory of God."

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CHAPTER IV.

IDLENESS AND WEARINESS.

"A millstone and the human heart are driven ever round, If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves be ground." Longfellow.

IDLENESS and weariness are much more nearly related to each other than many of my young friends may imagine. I believe them to be twin sisters, and so inseparable in their nature and disposition, that wherever one is the other will surely be found likewise. So convinced indeed am I, that there is in this world no weariness so great as that produced by idleness, and no happiness so perfect as that resulting from constant and useful employment, that I propose devoting a whole chapter to the subject.

I want all my readers thoroughly to agree with me in this matter, not only because "idleness is

the root of all evil," and "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do," but because I feel certain I am pointing out to them the safest and surest path-the very high-road, as it were -to happiness. There is a deep-seated necessity for work in all human nature. By work, I mean regular and active occupation, without which the mind inevitably becomes selfish, frivolous, and morbidly sensitive to trifles. It is so with young and old alike, and with both sexes. The young folks who are always thinking of their dress and their personal appearance, or grumbling at their lot in life, are the idle ones. The old folks who are the most inveterate gossips, the most apt to take offence, and the greatest gourmands, are the idle ones. And why is this? Simply because their weariness would be utterly insufferable without these things to bear a portion of the burden of their idleness. Medical men, too, will tell you that a good deal of ill-health and a great many bodily ailments may be traced to the same cause. And this is not difficult to understand, for we all know how mind and body act upon and influence each other, so that if the mental powers are stagnant and morbid, the body is certain to become more or less so likewise.

There is a class of diseases known now-a-days as hypochondriacal, half of which have had their origin in the ennui of idleness. "Something to do" would be the best prescription for these malades imaginaires, as indeed I expect it would be for a vast number of other evils to which flesh is heir.

Something to do! you exclaim. But what? A definite answer to this question is simply impossible. So diverse are characters, tastes, circumstances, and capabilities, that to lay down any distinct rulé on the subject would be absurd.

To few girls is the variety of occupation offered so great, or the path of duty so difficult to discover, that she need puzzle very long over what she ought to do. It may be some neglected talent of her own to cultivate-some deficient branch of her education to improve; it may be acts of kindness and charity for the poor, the sick, or the needy; it may be teaching some younger brother or sister, or watching and tending some afflicted parent or friend. To "bear one another's burdens" was a command given to all alike, young and old, rich and poor; and so was that other precept, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." Surely