There were some in the fine old church who felt the influence of its hallowed beauty, and to whose fervent spirits it appeared none other than the gate of heaven. The holy rite of Confirmation was about to be performed by the bishop of the diocese, and several hundred candidates were now assembled to receive it at his hands. Edith Howard and several of the companions of her school days were about to seek fresh strength to hold fast the baptismal vows they were now to confirm by their own lips. They had been carefully prepared, both by Mrs. Sinclair and their excellent clergyman, Mr. Morton, who had reason to hope they were coming in an humble but earnest spirit, and thus trusted the blessing would indeed be theirs. The preparatory service over, each pastor led his own little flock to the communion rail, where stood the aged servant of God, waiting to bestow the apostolic benediction. He was a venerable man: his scanty locks were silvered with the snows of seventy winters, yet his fine figure was still unbent; his large dark eyes, with arched eyebrows, ing the house of God. For a short space it had fallen out of repair, but the pastor into whose charge this parish was given had not failed to stir up the better feelings of his congregation, and also to set them an example, in contributing according to his means towards the restoration of its ancient beauty. That the Almighty Creator of the universe will and does vouchsafe his presence and blessing where two or three are gathered together in Christ's name, be the place ever so humble, we cannot doubt; but has He not said, "Them that honour me I will honour," and can we visit the houses and palaces of the rich and noble of the earth, and see the hundreds and thousands lavished there, knowing the owners of this magnificence to be but worms in His sight, and yet be content to call that the Temple of the Holy One where no pains or cost is deemed necessary; where four whitewashed walls and the meanest accommodation for a certain number is thought all that is requisite for the place where the King of kings and Lord of lords has deigned to promise to meet his faithful worshippers? There were some in the fine old church who felt the influence of its hallowed beauty, and to whose fervent spirits it appeared none other than the gate of heaven. The holy rite of Confirmation was about to be performed by the bishop of the diocese, and several hundred candidates were now assembled to receive it at his hands. Edith Howard and several of the companions of her school days were about to seek fresh strength to hold fast the baptismal vows they were now to confirm by their own lips. They had been carefully prepared, both by Mrs. Sinclair and their excellent clergyman, Mr. Morton, who had reason to hope they were coming in an humble but earnest spirit, and thus trusted the blessing would indeed be theirs. The preparatory service over, each pastor led his own little flock to the communion rail, where stood the aged servant of God, waiting to bestow the apostolic benediction. He was a venerable man: his scanty locks were silvered with the snows of seventy winters, yet his fine figure was still unbent; his large dark eyes, with arched eyebrows, beaming with the full vigour of intellect, and softened by the Christian love and gentleness which pervaded his whole character; but that he was not weak or wanting in that decision of purpose which the many arduous responsibilities of so high an office demanded, his firm mouth betokened to all who looked on him. Edith, as she knelt before him and felt his hand on her head, believed her blessing as sure as if bestowed by the beloved Apostle St. John; and, in dependence on the gracious help of the Holy Spirit, she prayed that she might never dishonour her Saviour or the Christian profession she now had taken upon herself, by unholy temper or inconsistent conduct when far away from the dear friend who had watched over her youthful faults, and helped her by her kind and warning voice to overcome the sins which had most easily beset her. Her mind was peaceful and calm on her return with her companions to her present home, and but few words passed between them, for her heart was full and saddened by the anticipation of leaving it on the morrow. Edith Howard was left an orphan at six years old, and (in her last illness) her mother requested that her early and valued friend, Mrs. Sinclair, might be sent for, asking of her husband that their child might be placed under her charge during the period of education, feeling well assured that not only would her darling Edith be cherished with almost a mother's tenderness, but, above all, that she would be trained up in those high and holy principles and in that love to the Saviour which now soothed her own dying bed, and enabled her to leave her children and husband without a murmur. Mr. Howard was a man of strong but impulsive feelings; he mourned his wife's loss sincerely, and, in his early days of sorrow, thought he could never part with his little girl. But when the intensity of his first grief had passed away, and he had entered upon his usual occupations, he found his child was pining for her mother's loss, and was lonely and unhappy, suffering from the want of judicious. female care, so he placed Edith with Mrs. Sinclair, where she had companions of her own age. Edith's mother was many years older than |