at home is, when wholly consecrated to God, increasingly in harmony with His will, and the life visible and outward is, in proportion, calm and serene and rich, with a well-defined purpose. As Duncan Matheson, the large hearted Scotchman, wrote over the printing press he had purchased with so much difficulty to print tracts which should do great work for the Lord Jesus Christ for God and Eternity-so in like manner the life of the English girl bears the solemn impress in its every detail "for God and Eternity." Nothing is "trivial" or "unimportant," the smallest duty becomes great because a part of her life-work of worship and service. Where the heart has been wholly given to Christ—and no life can be utterly true which implies less than this-thought, word, and work are His, and as such are possessed of living power to bless. The English girl who can, however broken the utterance, adopt as her own the language of the Apostle Paul, and speak of Christ as "the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me," will make it her daily prayer that her life may be the inspiration of her faith in Him; and the greater her earnestness in asking this, the more surely and per

fectly will she fill her place at home, and consciously or unconsciously exert the power by which in blessing others she shall herself be blessed.

IN SOCIETY.

AN able writer has said, "Whatever may be the custom and laws of a country, the women of it decide the morals." Now, if this be true, surely the young English girl has a very responsible post to fill in the limited, or unlimited, circle of friends in which she moves.

In the ordinary morning call she takes her stand against the idle tittle-tattle and frivolous talk, into which conversation may so easily drift if there be none to watch the door which closes off thoughtless gossip from kindly interest in the welfare of others. She brings even into the limited visit of a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes' duration, an influence which surrounds her with an atmosphere of truthfulness, and others, breathing this, quite unconsciously to themselves, gain intellectual and moral strength.

And what the English girl is in a morning

call, such she is at an evening party. Her very dress betokens something of the purity of thought within. Preserving the modest decorum of gentle womanhood, she is not beguiled by fashion into a preposterous exposure of the fair shoulders and rounded arms, nor into any other unseemly display of her figure. She comes to the party her own true self, suitably and becomingly attired, full of life and energy, capable of an enjoyment which is at once healthful and recreating, but is never betrayed into the loud laugh or noisy jest, nor led into the whispered talks which approach, if they are not in themselves, incipient flirtations. The English girl who thus appropriates her lawful place in society is ever opposing the hollow pretences and crooked ways of a fickle world, combating the evil, which at some time or other surrounds her, with the utter truthfulness of her high-toned nature. Never lacking Christian courtesy, which seeks to act kindly towards everybody, and bringing womanly patience to bear wherever and whenever most needed, she yet never stoops to an insincere politeness, which tolerates that which is false, or makes friendly overtures to the pretentious and unreal.

She enjoys with honest appreciation the pleasant conversation of the gentleman who sits at her side, while to the young coxcomb who talks with pretty lispings about "the last new novel" and the "latest opera" she turns a deaf ear, chilling him into silence by the cold attention she gives his vapid utterances, and making him realise for once that his mind lacks manly tone, and that his life is aimless and feeble.

Without at any time seeking to put herself forward, the English girl is always ready when called upon to exert herself to give pleasure to others. She is conscious that she does not excel in music, as do many who are present, but when "asked to play" she leaves her seat with a willing readiness, which makes the heart of the kind hostess beat with grateful feelings, and causes "Anna Maria," who has just refused (although an acknowledged good pianist), with the simpering assurance, "her playing is not worth listening to!" "she would not like to torture the company with her strumming!" to be heartily ashamed of her absurd conduct. A willing and unaffected player is sure to be appreciated. The English girl finds herself called upon many times during the evening,