lives and rise above circumstances. I wish I could always remember uncle's sermons all through the week. What noble lives we should all lead if we lived by his rules."

"Yes, indeed," said Edith. "I wonder whether it would be possible. Not for me, I am afraid. Half my time is just spent in enduring," and the pain-stricken look came back to her face as she spoke. "It's all very well to preach to others, but only those who have to bear it, can have any idea what a life of suffering is. I think I must rest a little now. Don't look so distressed, Violet, I have managed to get on so far, and I shall get through my life somehow. I have a great deal to make up. I have you, dear, to look at and to love, and perhaps that ought to be enough to satisfy me."

Violet saw that her sister had talked long enough, so she persuaded her to lie down, and darkened the room and left her, but with a sad heart.

Edith was the great object of Violet's life hitherto, and Violet reflected Edith's moods like a mirror; but, as with a mirror, the image quickly passed away and gave place to new impressions.

The girl went to find her mother, her own thoughts were too sad to be indulged in alone, and her mother's company always made the world feel brighter.

CHAPTER III.

THE RECTOR'S ADVICE.

By the time Sunday morning came round, Stephen had learned a little more what his new life would be; he found his difficulties greater than he had expected.

The boys in the training school, where he had been working for his certificate, and learning to teach, were up to every imaginable prank or piece of mischief, but they were generally sharp enough and interested in their lessons, and he had had little difficulty in keeping their attention they had learnt to learn as he had learnt to teach.

But these country boys were utterly different; there was a stolid air of defiance about them that almost baffled their new master. If he scolded they stared stupidly into vacancy, as though they heard not. They did nothing deserving punishment, but were simply and aggravatingly stupid. The attempt to impress any ideas on their dull brains seemed almost a hopeless task. And yet Stephen often felt surprised at what they did know. The late Mr Sherwin must have possessed some secret power of imparting knowledge, for what the boys did know, they knew well, as part of themselves, and not as a thing learnt.

The fact was, the whole village resented having a London schoolmaster, with new-fangled ways, as they made no doubt, brought among them. Mr Sherwin had been one of themselves, born and bred in Chiltern; he had succeeded his father in his office, and had been trained from childhood to be village schoolmaster. He knew 'the people and their ways. His thoughts and

ideas were their thoughts and ideas, only a few degrees more elevated. The people had always lamented the fact that Mr Sherwin had no son to succeed him, but they had never doubted that one of themselves would be chosen to fill his vacant place.

The inhabitants of Chiltern were conservative to the backbone-what had been was right and ought to continue for ever, according to their creed. Mr Champneys had, as a matter of course, succeeded his father in the living. Mr Champneys' sister occupied the best house in the place, as her great aunt had done before her, and as, no doubt, her daughters would do after her. A Poole had been blacksmith, and a Ferrers had been shoemaker, from time immemorial-and so they should continue till time was no more.

It was unanimously decided that John Ferrers ought to be the new schoolmaster, after Mr Sherwin's death; he was considered by every one to be a clever and remarkable young man. His father was looked upon as a kind of oracle, and a fountain of knowledge, for he had read many books besides the Bible, and took in a daily newspaper, and knew not only what was going on in England, but also in foreign parts. The people did not believe any one could be more suitable to teach their children than young John, his son, who had

always been the first boy in the school, and who had already begun to have notions of his own. Moreover, it was generally supposed that he had a latent admiration for Mary Sherwin, the only child of the late schoolmaster, who had for some years been mistress of the girls' school. So the gossips had arranged everything according to village traditions. John Ferrers was to marry Mary Sherwin, and the nearest approach possible to a son of Mr Sherwin's would go on educating the rising generation.

When the Rector announced the fact that a certificated teacher from London was coming to fill the vacant post, the whole village felt slighted and ill-used.

"Not even to give young Ferrers a trial!" exclaimed Poole the blacksmith; "I would not have believed it of the parson, to bring a stranger from London, with, we don't know what new notions in his head. Why, I've heard that half the folks in them big towns are downright infidels, and never go to church at all. I suppose the parson knows what he is about, but in my opinion it's always safer to keep to the Prayer-book. We can generally find something to guide us in that if we look out for it. Now, what does the Prayer-book say?— 'Was, is now, and ever shall be. Amen.' That's my maxim, and I don't think there could be a safer."

"Yes, sure," put in Mrs Poole, with an awe-stricken sense of her husband's wisdom; "but you don't mean to say now, Poole, that you think the parson would bring an infidel among us, do you? I stared hard at the young man last night, and I'm sure he looks harmless enough, poor fellow-only so pale and sickly, just a little like Miss Edith."

"Of course I don't mean to say that I think the parson would go for to do such a thing as that," replied the blacksmith contemptuously; "women never can understand the rights of things. What I do say, and what I do maintain, is, that the parson cannot know half so much about this young fellow as we all know about John Ferrers. London is a dangerous place, a Babylon of wickedness, as I've heard; and, in my opinion, it's tempting Providence to introduce a dangerous person into a quiet, God-fearing place like thisone that may upset the children, and give them notions. as their fathers never dreamed of. From what I gather from the newspapers, there's a deal of wickedness and revolutionary notions going about."

'Well, I shall keep my eye on the young man,” said Mrs Poole, "and if I find he teaches my boys any wickedness I'll take them away from the school pretty quick; though far be it from me to wish to go against the parson."

"For my part I think we may trust the parson," said old Ferrers; " whatever he has done yet has turned out right, and you all know that he came and told me, quite free and handsome, why he could not take my John. He said the School Board would come and shut up the school if he did not have a properly learned master. And as for my John, why, he does not wish to stay in Chiltern all his life, and I don't know that he would have taken the place if it had been offered to him. For my part, I shall be very glad to see a chap from London that can talk a little sense, and has seen something of the world."

"Well, I'm an Englishman, I am, and I likes my own