bright flowers, and trusted that time would make the place beautiful.

And then he began to reflect on his position. "Well, you are a lucky fellow, Stephen Rivers," he thought to himself, "here you are, settled down in a snug little house, with coals and gas, and an old widow woman to wait on you, all found, besides fifty pounds a-year! And if you only do your duty in 'that state of life,' who knows how long you may stay here. Duty-duty-yes, that's the thing; life is a serious business now, Master Stephen-a very serious business. You have not only to take care of yourself, but to set an example too-remember that you are a schoolmaster now." And so he sauntered on, thinking to himself, and lecturing himself, as he had a way of doing. But his gait was much more like that of a schoolboy than a pedagogue, and very soon he began to whistle. The morning air was so fresh and invigorating, that his naturally high spirits rose higher than usual.

He soon discovered that the school-house was about the only new thing in the village of Chiltern, which lay half hidden among the trees a little way from the river, and seemed as though it had been overlooked and passed by in the rush of progress, and left to itself for about a hundred years. It was a picturesque little village, with wooden houses, and red-tiled gabled roofs, all clustering round the old grey church tower.

"So that's the church," thought Stephen; "quite an ideal country church! I wonder what sort of a man the parson is, and how I shall get on with him. I liked what I saw of him in London. There was nothing that said 'stand off; I am holier than thou,' about him."

He turned into the old-fashioned churchyard and examined a few tombstones, some of which were very curious. Presently he came to one that was white and new. The inscription ran, "Sacred to the memory of Thomas Sherwin, for fifty years schoolmaster in this parish, died 18-, aged seventy-five years; also Mary his wife "For fifty years schoolmaster in this parish," repeated Stephen slowly to himself, "I wonder whether my old bones will be laid here after fifty years? It is a queer sensation to see one's life all planned out for one like that. One ought to do something in fifty years! But it will be rather difficult to take the place of such an old fellow. Also Mary his wife,' there can be no 'Mary his wife' for me, I must not dream of such a luxury. How could I keep ‘Mary his wife' on fifty pounds a-year? No, no, Stephen, my boy, you must not let your head run on any such nonsense. No wife for you. To improve yourself and your pupils -that is your lot. Surely a full enough life for any man. So be content and earnest, and you may make your mark in the world, and see the fruits of your labour too before you die."

He left the churchyard and strode along the dusty road till he came to the river, gleaming in the morning sunlight, and turned down a towing path which ran along the side of the river; it was bordered by a row of pollard willows. Presently he came to an old-fashioned black wooden drawbridge. A barge was just going through, and Stephen stood still to watch the process, which was new to him. The bargemen opened the bridge by pulleys which lifted up each side like lids, and let them down again when the boat had gone

through. It all looked very quaint and picturesque in Stephen's eyes, and he sauntered on in a pleasant reverie.

Then he came to another sight. Across the river stood a long low cottage, surrounded by a verandah, all covered with flowering creepers. A garden sloped down to the water's edge, where shady trees were bending into the stream.

Stephen felt as though everything were public property in this retired corner of the universe, and he stood still to admire. This was indeed an earthly paradise!

While he was admiring, he became aware that the place was inhabited. First came a bark and a tinkling of bells, then a little pug dog with a collar of bells made its appearance, followed by a clear, ringing voice.

"Oh you naughty, naughty Toby, you've torn my gloves all to pieces. Come here and let me beat you, sir,"

And a young lady appeared carrying a basket.

She mildly chastised Toby, and then began to fill the basket with flowers.

Stephen stood still, rudely staring. "So a fair Eve inhabits this paradise," he said to himself. “Well, I don't think I should mind being Adam."

The girl was simply dressed in a clean cotton frock, and a large garden hat which shaded her face so completely that it was impossible to see what she was like at that distance; but the schoolmaster felt certain she was beautiful, and of one thing there was no doubther hair was rich gold, for every now and then it flashed back the sunlight like the river. Altogether, it was a very pretty picture.

She went slowly round the garden cutting flowers and talking to her dog. Judging from the tone of her voice, she must have been of a very forgiving disposition, for she and the small offender seemed to be on the most friendly terms again.

Suddenly she stopped. She had evidently become conscious that she was being watched, and she looked straight across the river at the stranger.

Stephen felt confused, and rather ashamed of himself. At that moment the old church clock, with its silvery voice chimed eight, and with a start he turned back towards the village, for school was to begin at nine.

As he walked home he tried to forget the little Eve in her garden, and turned his thoughts to the new life before him. He had long ago made up his mind to devote all his powers to his work, and he was determined to be not only a painstaking and conscientious, but a successful, schoolmaster. He wished to elevate as well as teach his pupils, to educate them really, and his head was full of schemes and ideas.

It was after much deliberation that Stephen Rivers had elected to be a schoolmaster. He was ambitious, and his choice was very limited. He was by nature, helped by his mother, a student, and he was fond of teaching; so he chose the employment in which he saw most chance of success. When the point was once settled between himself and his mother, he determined to fit himself for his work, and went to a trainingschool; he had there been a pupil-teacher long enough now to know that he had an arduous, though most interesting, task before him.

But he was young, and full of hope and ambition; he felt himself strong to surmount difficulties, and, with God's help, to commence a new era in the lives of the youth of Chiltern.

As he walked, his bright young face became grave and thoughtful, and in his own mind he went through the little opening address he intended to make to his pupils. He was anxious to say something that would touch them, and make them feel that he had their interests at heart, and meant to set them a good example by throwing himself with enthusiasm into his work.

When Stephen reached his cottage, he found Widow Green standing at the gate looking up and down the road with an anxious face.

"Ah! there you are!" she exclaimed in a relieved tone, "I was afeared as maybe you had lost your way, sir, or by chance tumbled into the river; your breakfast is getting cold."

Stephen had just finished his breakfast when a loud knock came at the door. He hastened to open it, and immediately his somewhat delicate hand was grasped in the strong, friendly one of the Reverend Frederick Champneys, rector of Chiltern.

"Well, Rivers, and how do you like your new quarters?" said the cheery voice that had so charmed the young man when he first heard it.

"Very much indeed, thank you, sir," replied Stephen. "Mrs Green has made everything most comfortable."

"I have come to introduce you to the boys," said the Rector. "I daresay you will think them rather a dull set at first, after the sharp London lads you have been accustomed to; but they are neither stupid nor bad,