CHAPTER, XIII.

"O wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see ourselves as ithers see us,
It wad frae mony a faultie free us,
And foolish notion."

BURNS.

'A merry christmas and a happy new year when it comes,' said Mary joyously, as she appeared by Helen's bedside the next morning.

Helen soon joined the cheerful circle already assembled: the morning was bright and frosty, and the chrystallized snow glittered like diamonds in the bright sun beams. Mary's pet robins were ready at the window, awaiting their breakfast at her hand; whilst all faces wore a smiling aspect on this social day. Mrs. Stewart's carriage remained at K during her visit, but the coachman spent his days at Mrs. Sinclair's, to be ready to attend upon his mistress; and this morning, nurse (as she was always designated) looked even more smiling than usual, and chattered to Thomas, whom she ever and anon despatched with a relay of toast and cakes to the breakfast table. There is, if we may be allowed the expression, a hallowed cheerfulness, in the very name of "Christmas Day." Every in-door comfort then appears to stand out in relief, from the inclemency of the season; and to call forth at least an expression of thankfulness, even from those who prize its return, from this feeling alone. But how greatly is the value of this precious day enhanced in the christian's mind, by remembering

'Tis Christmas, and that day on which our Lord,
Came down from heaven and was made
Man for our sake. He saw the coming agony,
The cross, the crown of thorns; yet hasted but to run his course
Then took them up; nor deemed one pang too great.
No murmuring thought, ere left a cloud upon his mind,
But when intensest agony, had crowned his cup of woe;
Cried "Father not my will, but thine be done."
As a lamb before her shearers, he was dumb,

Tho' scorned, rejected, and despised, he thought on mercy.
Died for his murderers, bowed his meek head,
And said, "'Tis finished."! Blest words for all eternity.
Our covenant confirmed, redemption sure,

'Twas signed with his most precious blood; and
Pardon, peace, have sealed, what grace had first begun.
Then righteousness and truth together met,
And all the choir of heaven sung-" Amen."

There were five from that cottage circle, who knelt at the altar on this joyful morning. There together they partook of the blessed ordinance, which must ever be a source of thanksgiving and comfort to those, who receive it aright.

"This do in remembrance of me." From a departed friend whom we loved, how would such a request appear? If we have ever been thus circumstanced, we

know that it was as a law, binding us to comply with what was required of us. What will not affection do for a beloved object? Not only is their slightest wish a law, but every minute circumstance is remembered ; every request is dear and precious. We have an unspeakable satisfaction not only in complying with them, to our utmost ability; but we love to do so, and would draw each link of memory's chain tighter around us. And this for a mortal, a sinning, erring being, like ourselves.

What then is sufficient to mark our love and respect for this request from One, who is the friend and Saviour of us all; who died and bore our sins, bore the accumulated wrath of heaven, and for us? Yet astounding truth, our hearts remain chiefly untouched; and, consequently, cold and lifeless are the thanks we offer him, and the tribute we pay to his memory. On the anniversary of Christmas Day, one or two old pensioners upon Mrs. Sinclair's bounty, dined in the kitchen; for although her income was indeed a limited one, she contrived to spare a little for those still less richly blessed with this world's good; and not a few hearts constantly blessed Mrs. and Sophia Sinclair, for the kindness and sympathy they bestowed upon them.

We frequently hear a complaint from persons who give liberally to the poor around them, that they constantly meet with ingratitude; and after every effort made to benefit them, can perceive no trait of thankfulness in their dispositions.

It may be so, but in giving them food and raiment, did they sympathize also in their mental ills? Did they visit the sick and afflicted, with the sweet and consolatory words of the book of life; and in the little comforts provided under providence, by their own industry and perseverance, did they bestow a cordial and approving interest? If so, and they then met with many instances of ingratitude; we may indeed cease to wonder at the feelings of disappointment we hear them express. We would, however, rather believe, that it is not often so; for who are so susceptible to the sweetness of sympathy, as they who most need it? and many amongst ourselves, will we doubt not be ready to affirm, how much more prizeable is a kindness directed to the mind than to the greatest corporeal necessity.

Mrs. Stewart intended returning home the latter end of the week, and proposed taking Helen with her; promising to bring or send her back, in a short time; and though inwardly shrinking from the invitation, Helen did not dare to breathe a dissenting word, and after two days, she and her aunt were on their route towards Yorkshire.

Mrs. Stewart, though a widow, still remained in the house where she had resided during her husband's lifetime; with nearly the whole of her ample fortune in her own disposal.

The house was very large and gloomy looking in the front; standing in one of the best streets of the old town of A beautiful garden at the back, into which the windows of the principal rooms looked, amply compensated even in winter, for the forbidding aspect of the other side; and from the many comforts and luxuries, with which the apartments abounded, they spoke of the ease and opulence of the owner.

Neatness reigned there even to a fault; for a Bonbonière out of its place, was to Mrs. Stewart a serious inconvenience. This peculiarity was well known by Helen, for no one who might remain long under her roof, could (unless it were "Theresa Tidy " herself,) escape either a reproof or an inuendo; upon the importance of being neat; or the terrible consequences which must inevitably ensue from a failure in this respect. To do Helen justice, she really was, according to general opinion, neat; not being of the number of those Demoiselles, who deem it beneath them to attend to these minutiæ, which are so peculiarly the province of a lady, even should her circumstances warrant the appendage of a maid. Neither beauty or talents will compensate for the want of proper neatness or decorum, in a lady's habits and costume; and a properly ordered mind will scarcely need to be reminded of these truths; for we cannot avoid thinking, that she who is negligent of her: person, and slovenly in her dress, must be equally careless in cultivating the better qualities of her heart and mind. True, too much care for the "outward adorning," is equally prejudicial to our best interests; but