The ladies of Thorndale met one afternoon in early autumn in Mrs. Lee's parlour for an important purpose. There was a previous understanding that the meeting was for all who felt interested in discussing plans for their own mental improvement during the coming winter. The chairman said: "Now, ladies, speak out your minds on this subject with freedom and promptness."

Mrs. Peterson spoke first—she always did—"For my part I wish we could study or read something or other that would give us something to talk about when we meet in sewing society and other places. I'm tired going to sewing society and sitting perfectly mum by the side of my next neighbour, because I don't know what under the sun to say. After we have done up the weather and house cleaning and pickling and canning, and said what a sight of work it is, and asked whether the children took the measles and whooping-cough, and so on, I'm clear run out, for I won't talk about my neighbours, and I don't keep any help; I've noticed 'hired girls' is a subject that doesn't seem to run out very soon."

"Let us form a literary society," said one; "prepare essays, and discuss some subject that will require considerable study in posting ourselves." This lady was newly married, and "boarded;" therefore time was one of the things that she possessed in the greatest abundance.

"That will never do," said a busy little mother, "every lady that was to prepare an essay would be sure to have a sick baby, or a house full of company; then the most of us can only give little snatches of time to this, besides the afternoon or evening that we meet; that would surely be a failure; we want something that will not end in smoke after a few weeks."

Mrs. Lewis spoke next. When Mrs. Lewis spoke everybody always paid attention. She was a large, fine looking lady of seventy or thereabouts. Old age had crowned her with a halo of soft snowy hair, while her dark eyes still glowed with almost the brightness of youth. Her naturally fine mind, enriched by extensive reading, and her deep religious experience, combined to constitute her almost an oracle in the little town. In all their gatherings she was the centerpiece, a very queen for dignity and elegance, in her invariable black silk, and soft white cap. "Let us study the Bible," said Mrs. Lewis. "I don't know of any book we are more ignorant of."

"Oh, Mrs. Lewis! You wouldn't make us into a Sabbath-school class, I hope," said feathery little Mrs. Etheridge. "I thought we did that up years ago. I am sure I can repeat quantities of it," and she tossed back her pretty head and looked wise. "The Bible is all well enough for the Sabbath, but I should dearly love to read the poets. I am passionately fond of Byron; some of his poems are just too sweet for anything."

Some of the wise ones almost thought Mrs. Lewis' text had a spice of sarcasm in it as she quoted for answer, "The testimonies of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple."

Miss McIntosh, learned, and strong-mindedly inclined, said that she had heard that the ladies in Millville had spent one afternoon a week in the study of Political Economy, with very much benefit; they felt that their minds had been enlarged and strengthened; her preference would be for something of that sort, some broad, deep subject, that would require study; she would suggest Mental Philosophy.

"The Bible just fits in there," said Mrs. Lewis. "'Thy Word is a great deep,' and Peter said that Paul wrote 'things hard to be understood,' you remember."

"And that's queer, too," spoke up Mrs. Peterson. "Such a deep book, and yet I feel more at home in it than in any other book you have talked about, and I haven't much learning to speak of either. But I get so interested in some of the folks in it, and the Lord's dealings with them. I've been thinking about Moses ever since Mr. Parker preached about his not being allowed to go into the promised land. It seems as if I was acquainted with him. It must have been a powerful disappointment to him, after he had trudged along so many years—turned back, too, when he'd got a good piece on his way; then it was so aggravating, to get up there and look over into the nice green meadows, and know that if he hadn't let out his temper so, he might have gone in with the rest of them. I declare, I got so exercised thinking it over when I was a working my butter, that I forgot to salt it."

"I think I should like to study Shakespeare," said Mrs. Berkeley. "Where does one find such knowledge of human nature as there? Where else are such rare gems to be had by digging?"

"In my book," said Mrs. Lewis, "the Psalmist says, 'It is more to be desired than gold, yea, than much fine gold;' and another says, 'It is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.' Is not that a knowledge of human nature that excels even Shakespeare?"

"It strikes me a variety would suit all," said another. "George Eliot's writings are full of power, and deep enough for me, I assure you. We might read some of her books, then some of Dickens and Thackeray, then occasionally a book of poems; Longfellow and Whittier, or, if we want to study harder, there is Mrs. Browning, Tennyson, and Shakespeare. It would be excellent discipline to try and get at the exact meaning of the authors, and puzzle out all the obscurities, it would not be long before we should feel quite rich in a literary way. In reading such works together, and talking them over, of course we make them ours as we can in no other way."

"The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of the Lord endureth for ever," quoted Mrs. Lewis. "Do you know that all those writings, valuable and good in their place as they are, when compared with the Bible seem to me just like grass and flowers? Now, if we have but a little time to give to study, why not spend a good part of it in studying the 'endureth-for-ever' book, because, as nearly as I can find out, that book and ourselves are the only things in this world that are going to endure for ever? Don't it strike you that in such a case we ought to be more familiar with it than with all these others?"

Mrs. Lewis' solemn words put a silence on the lips for a few minutes, but practical Mrs. Brown broke it by remarking:

"Perhaps it would be a good plan for us to study hygiene. I have always thought, if we gave more attention to ventilation, and to what we shall eat and wear, and so on, we should have better health."

"Yes," said a still more practical sister, "that would be real nice. Then I was noticing in the paper that there is a Presbyterian cook-book just out. I should like to have some read out of that."

This caused a smile to go around the circle, for Mrs. Boot was one of those inveterate pie and cake makers, whose life consisted in the abundance of pastry; who was an unhappy woman until she had obtained the last new receipt for cake and made it up.

"I have an idea," said a bright little lady. "Suppose we all agree to spend at least two evenings a week in reading or study at home, then bring what we gather to the sewing-society and talk it over, each one give some bit of news or scientific fact, or give a review of the last new book."

"Oh, I have tried that a little on my own book," said Mrs. Peterson. "I sat up one night after all the rest had gone to bed, and read all about that Dr. Somebody, with a hard name—I can't pronounce it, it begins with an 'S.' Well, he and his wife are digging up buried cities, hundreds and thousands of years old—and finding the most wonderful things, money, and jewellery, and splendid vases, and all sorts of nice things. Now, says I to myself, I've got something to talk about at sewing society to-morrow. It'll make 'em open their eyes, too, I guess, so I read it all over again, to be sure and have it at my tongue's end. Well, I went to sewing society, and when there was a kind of a lull in talk, I began to tell three or four that sat around me, all about that wonderful story that I'd been reading. Do you believe it, they just poked fun at my story, and said, 'of course 'twa'n't true, and we couldn't believe half we read in the papers, and it would tura out like the Cardiff giant, most likely.' I was going on to tell how he brought, out the curiosities, and ever so many people saw them, and of course it was true; but la! one wanted the thread, another the scissors, and another called out, 'Mrs. Peterson, do you overcast your seams or fell 'em?' Then Mrs. Baker said, 'Why, Melia Parsons, you're making that little pair of pants upside down, then they all hollered and yelled at Melia, and I never tried to tell anything more about Dr. What-yer-call-him and his cities; might just as well try to talk in a hornets' nest."

This speech produced so much merriment that the chairman playfully called Mrs. Peterson to order, and the talk went on. Some thought a course of history was "just the thing," in short, there were as many different plans and opinions as there were ladies, it began to look very much as if no decision could ever be reached.

"I hope," said Mrs. Lewis, "that I shall not be thought persistent or officious if I say a few more words. You know I am fond of reading, there was a time when I read everything, now I am turning away from it all, to the blessed Bible. While I would not disparage liberal culture, nor the reading that conduces to it, I think the time has come when we cannot remain ignorant of the Bible and be guiltless. Some people feel mortified if they cannot tell just where every line of poetry that happens to be quoted can be found, but who thinks of being ashamed because they cannot tell the author of the matchless poems in the Old Testament? I do think there are no poems like Isaiah's and Jeremiah's and the Psalms. For imagery and pathos and sweetness all other poems are tame in comparison. Do we want works of power? He says, 'My word is as the fire and the hammer.' Is it tragedy that our souls delight in? There is the divine tragedy: 'But He was wounded for our transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities…. He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth,' and the closing scene: 'And behold the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent, and the graves were opened.'"

"If we wish to strengthen and discipline our minds, and grow in knowledge, let us study the Bible by all means, for here we find difficulties enough to tax an angel's powers, and at the same time find rest and consolation, means of growth, too, for we are assured that those who meditate on that Word 'shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water.' Oh, you do not know, if you never have tried it, how blessed it is to build up a pyramid of texts, for instance, all about God's love to us, and the names he calls us by; it makes his love such a reality. Theft there are the promises, soft pillows for weary heads, and there are directions for all perplexities. I tell you there is nothing like the Bible. I have tried all the rest. Like Solomon I have found it all vanity. 'Oh, how I love thy law!' 'How sweet are thy words unto my taste!' When this becomes our experience, life will be a different thing to us; it will not be dull and empty. You know how we get absorbed in other reading, perhaps a novel, and it leaves a gloomy, unsatisfied feeling when it is done, but the Bible is never done, and the studying it grows and grows every day. When the Lord comes, I'm afraid we shall not feel comfortable if he finds us studying hard on every other book and his laid by covered with dust. If I were to ask you what book you would advise me to spend the most of my time on, the few years that I live, whether the Bible or the current literature of the day, you would probably say, 'The Bible by all means, because you have but a few years left to you at most,' but the truth is, that many in this room may die before I do. Not one of us knows what day the books will for us be for ever closed; and did it never cross your minds that the Bible is the only book we will want to take with us away down to the edge of the river? When I lie down to die I feel sure that I shall not wish for a page of mental philosophy whispered in my ear, nor the finest passage of Shakespeare; but, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; Thou art with me,' and 'I have loved thee with an everlasting love.' 'Thou art mine, I have called thee by my name.' 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.'"

"Let us compromise this matter," suggested Mrs. Parker. "Let every other meeting be devoted to Bible study, and a committee be appointed to select something from the works mentioned here to-day as subjects for the intervening meetings."

This seemed to strike all favourably, and was voted upon, receiving an affirmative vote. It was further suggested and decided that Mrs. Lewis should lead all the Bible meetings.

"Then I shall take you in hand at once," said Mrs. Lewis, "and announce that the next meeting will be at my house next Thursday afternoon, and the subject will be 'How to Use the Book.' I shall ask you to look out texts on the subjects, and to bring pencils and Bibles that you will not be afraid to mark, and do, dear sisters, let us give to the study of this Book the same zeal and painstaking that we do to our housekeeping, or our gardening or fancy work, then we shall receive a blessing—I am sure of it."

PART II.

THE BOOK OPEN.

Mrs. Lewis' parlour was not like anybody's else. Some of her neighbours said she was "queer, as much money as she had, too." By "queer" they meant that it was perfectly incomprehensible to them, that Mrs. Lewis did not have her parlour hung in dark paper with gilt blommies; have lace curtains with very long trails, a dark, many-coloured carpet, mirrors, and handsome furniture wearing linen aprons; the whole thing shut up stately and dark, except on high days; this, instead of the cheery room where five-minute callers with cards and best toilets seldom came; people always "ran in" here and stayed awhile. This room was large and light, both wall and carpet a delicate tint of grey, brightened here and there by bits of colour in the shape of gaily-covered easy-chairs, rug tidies, and the like, yet nothing was too fine for daily use.

There were fine engravings on the walls, and plants and sunshine in the south windows. In the centre stood a large round table covered with books, newspapers, pen and ink; altogether it looked much more like a gem of a study than a parlour, but was the best and handsomest room in the house, whatever it might be called; and here Mrs. Lewis knit, and sewed and studied, here the fire was always bright and the welcome warm; young and old went in and out with freedom. Her table was supplied with the best and latest books and magazines, so making a sort of reading-room, as free and open to young men as though it were public.

The room was well filled on the Thursday afternoon appointed for the meeting, which was opened by a few earnest words of prayer; then Mrs. Lewis remarked, "I want to say in the outset, that I do not set myself up as a teacher in these gatherings; we are all learners together. Let us conceive ourselves to be miners digging for gold or precious stones, in the Lord's mine, the Scriptures; then when he points out to one a precious gem that our eyes may not light on as we pass along, let that one hasten to show it to us also with something of the same eagerness that most of us would display if we found a jewel in our path. In thinking of this subject: 'How to use our Bibles,' I am reminded of my first sewing machine. Many years ago, when sewing machines were not as common as now, my husband sent to New York and purchased one for me. I read the instructions, and followed them as I thought, but I did not succeed, the thread knotted up in heaps and it skipped stitches. After repeated failures I set it aside, and plodded on in the old way, trying to do all the sewing of my large family by hand. At last a lady from a neighbouring town came to visit me. It so happened that she owned a machine of the same kind. She sat down before mine, turned the screws, oiled it, put the work in, and sewed a long seam as by magic. Then she patiently explained every little thing I needed to know. It was a happy day to me when I could sew on it too, I assure you, and you all know from experience just what a comfort and help that machine was to me for years afterwards. I am convinced that in like manner I groped and stumbled along a long time in my Christian life because I did not know how to use my Bible."

"I am not sure," said Miss McIntosh, "that I quite understand your illustration. The sewing machine was, of course, no use to you until you had learned all its mysteries, it was the same as locked up to you, you needed a key, but here are our Bibles in plain English; if we read them I cannot see why we will not be benefited."

"Yes, benefited in a certain way, just as any excellent book will lift one up, but I know people who are well versed in the historical parts of the Bible—can repeat large portions of the Gospels, and yet are blind; they have not apprehended Christ in it all. We need the Spirit's teachings, or, plain as it is, we may go from Genesis to Revelation and never once look into the eyes of our Saviour with trusting faith, yet there he is on every page. Food is nothing to us when hungry if we do not eat it, and truth will not save us if it be not realised. 'Then opened he their understanding that they should understand the Scriptures.' 'The things of God knoweth no man but by the Spirit of God.' Not until that light shines upon the book do our souls cry out in joyful recognition, 'Master' and 'My Lord and my God.' Not until that Divine touch opens our eyes can we say of his words, 'I love them exceedingly.'"

"But you do not suppose," said Mrs. Berkely, "that every one can have that wonderful insight into Scripture that some persons have, or that all are expected to really love to read it. I never think that I ought to let a day pass by without reading my chapter, but I confess that I do it because it is my duty. Everybody can't be like one woman that I used to know. She kept her Bible by her in her work-basket, every few minutes she would take it up and get a bit from it, then go on with her work. Everybody called her a fanatic, but she seemed to enjoy herself, and was the best person I ever knew; I always supposed she possessed a sort of gift that is only given to a very few."

"I believe that the promise, 'He shall teach you all things,' will be fulfilled to all who claim it," said Mrs. Lewis.

"You recollect," said Mrs. Parker, "how Luther loved the Bible after that wonderful light shone into his soul? I have read somewhere that the cxixth Psalm was his favourite, because in all its one hundred and seventy-six verses the Bible is mentioned in every one except two. I have also heard that it is a favourite with Ruskin because he has the same love for the Word that David and Luther possessed. 'How sweet are Thy words unto my taste,' was the burden of David's song."

"I have had just one thought following me the whole week," said Mrs. Mills. "It came to me with such power last Sabbath, when I took my Bible to look out some texts for the meeting to-day, that I almost felt as if I had never known it before. It is so wonderful that God and the Holy Spirit have written a Book and we have it! and, what is stranger still, that we dare to neglect it. One would suppose that a superstitious fear would make people read it, if nothing else. I believe that the Lord himself sent that solemn realisation to me; it has seemed a different Book to me ever since. If an angel should come down and bring me ever so short a letter from the Lord, with some expressions of favour, I should be consumed with joy; and here I have not only one, but so many, and never took it in before."

"My heart standeth in awe of thy word," repeated Mrs. Lewis; then, turning to one who sat near her, said, "We want a word from you, Mrs. Barnes." Mrs. Barnes had slipped into the most obscure seat in the room, almost behind Mrs. Lewis' chair. She was one of Mrs. Lewis' most intimate friends, and herein was another proof of "queerness" in the eyes of some of Mrs. Lewis' neighbours, "because she made so much of that Mrs. Barnes." No one had ever thought of calling such a dignified, intelligent-looking woman a "washer-woman," and yet she did take some of her neighbours' clothes to her home and wash and iron them—why not? since she was strong and they were not, and she wanted money and they wanted clean clothes. However it was, these two women saw eye to eye. It was no uncommon thing when Mrs. Barnes' snowy wash was flapping in the wind, and she had slipped on her clean gingham, and stepped over to Mrs. Lewis' a minute, to have the minute lengthen to an hour or more, they had so much in common to talk about. Their absent Lord—His work, and how to further it, were themes they did not weary of.

So Mrs. Barnes put on her glasses and opened her old Bible and read, "As new born babes, desire the sincere milk of the Word, that ye may grow thereby."

"I find here," she said, "that the Bible is to be our food, and that it is intended to make us grow. Now one can't grow without the right kind of food. The verse makes me think of my dear little grandson Neddie. His mother was taken away, and he was left a wee baby for us to bring up. We had such a hard time to find anything to agree with him. We tried milk and water, and arrowroot, and cracker-water, but he didn't thrive, he was nothing but skin and bone; finally he got sick and we called the doctor, and he said, 'Why this child is starving to death! What do you feed him? Don't give him any more such stuff,' he said. 'Try another cow, and give him pure milk.' So we got a new milch cow and fed him fresh milk, and I can't begin to tell you what a wonderful change it made in that child in less than three weeks' time; the dear little fellow got just as plump, his hands were like cushions, and he was well and happy as a robin. Maybe that's the reason there are so many weakly Christians. I shouldn't wonder if souls need the right sort of food as well as bodies in order to be healthy. I have some neighbours that my heart just aches for; all their reading is yellow-covered books, such as 'The Pirate's Bride,' and 'The Fatal Secret.' Such food is worse than cracker-water, and arrowroot, for they are starving souls instead of bodies, and the Word can't find any place to take root, much less to grow, when the mind is filled up with such trash."

"Joseph Cook thinks," said Mrs. Lewis, "that even Bunyan, Jeremy Taylor, Pascal, and Thomas a'Kempis himself, work mischief, if these books shut out the Bible from daily and almost hourly use.'

"Is it possible," said Mrs. Etheridge, "that anybody can make out what Joseph Cook thinks? I know everybody is running wild over him, so I just took one of his lectures the other day after dinner, and sat down by the fire. But dear me! I couldn't make anything out of it. Now, I can take one of Mrs. Henry Wood's lovely books and read from dinner to tea, without being tired or sleepy."

Mrs. Lewis smiled as she answered:

"I admit that, like Paul, Joseph Cook writes some things hard to be understood, and it often takes considerable thought to get at his meaning, but when you have studied it out it is something worth having. He speaks to Boston people mostly, you know, and perhaps they would not understand very plain English. Here is a sentence from him, though, that is clear enough: 'Do you know a book that you are willing to put under your head for a pillow when you lie dying? Very well, that is the book you want to study while you are living.'"

"But, Mrs. Lewis," continued Mrs. Etheridge, "you know some physicians think we ought to eat the sort of food that relishes most. Why does that not apply to our minds as well? Now I am naturally melancholy, and need something to raise my spirits. Don't you think that the Bible is almost too sober, dreary reading for such persons—at least until they begin to grow old?"

Mrs. Lewis turned a loving, pitying look on the pretty young wife, and whispered a prayer for her as she answered:

"Jeremiah and David did not find it a gloomy book, for they both said this: 'Thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of my heart.' My dear, I want to put my testimony with theirs, that in a long lifetime—part of it spent in every variety of worldly pleasure—that there is nothing, nothing that has or can give me the joy that the words of my dear Lord do. I claim no credit that it is so. I believe that the same sweet experience will be given to all who truly desire it."

"I can't agree with that idea, either," said Mrs. Brown, "that the best kind of food is what one relishes most. My children relish pie and cake and candies wonderfully, but I know it is not good for them to eat much of them. When they have no appetite for good bread and milk, and such nourishing food, I know there is something amiss with them—they are sick—and did you ever notice this? Children who are allowed to live mostly on these knicknacks do not relish plain food, and do not thrive. The text that was last read did not say that we were to read the Bible as a duty, but to desire it. If we have no appetite for the spiritual nourishment that is best for us to grow on, I do not know why we are not sick Christians?"

"It strikes me," said Mrs. Peterson, who had watched in vain for an opportunity to speak before, "that while you are talking about the Bible being food for us, making us grow, and all that, my text about meditation comes in; David says, 'I have more understanding than all my teachers, for thy testimonies are my meditation.' I can speak from experience about that; I know it makes a sight of difference how you read. I had quite a sick spell once, a sort of low fever, and when I began to get better I was so weak I couldn't eat hardly anything; I heard the woman that took care of me tell the doctor that if I didn't eat more I'd starve as sure as the world; and the doctor said, 'no I wouldn't, that the amount a body ate wasn't the main thing, it was what was digested, and that it did mischief to eat more than one could digest; so I kept on taking my little bit of beef-tea a good many times a day, but I was very weak for a long time: I couldn't even hold my Bible to read it, and I began to fret about it; I was used to reading my two or three chapters a day, and I felt sort o' lost without them. One day my next neighbour brought in what she called a 'Silent Comforter,' and hung it on the wall; it had only three or four texts on a page in large letters, so that I could read it without glasses. Well, what a comfort that was, to be sure. I had nothing to do all day but lie there and think of those verses; it seemed like a new Bible. Every morning they turned a leaf over, and I was more anxious to see what my new verses would be, than to eat my breakfast. When I got a little stronger I wrote down everything I got out of them. Well, I tell you it was just wonderful how much there was in them. I had more good of the Bible, it seemed to me, that three weeks than I ever did before. Then I remembered how I used to read my chapters, my mind half the time on something else, most always in a hurry, thinking it was time I was skimming my milk or at my baking, and wondering whether I should bake apple pies or pumpkin that day; think of it! how awful it was to mix up things like that; but then I thought I must read my three chapters anyhow. Well, I didn't do like that any more when I got around again. I called to mind what the doctor said about eating, and says I, that's exactly the way it is with the Bible, it has got to be digested; so I took what time I could and put all my mind on a small portion, and tried to keep it with me all day. Now I don't want to be boasting about myself, but I do say I love the Lord as I didn't used to, and it all comes of his blessed Book. There, I've talked too long! I always do."

"Can we not now have a number of texts that tell us from the Word itself how it is to be used?" said Mrs. Lewis. And these were promptly given, such as, "Search the Scriptures." "Teach me thy statutes." "Great peace have they that love thy law." "That we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope. And shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up." "I hope in thy Word." "To the law and to the testimony; if they speak not according to this Word there is no light in them." "Thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation." "I trust in thy Word." "Wherefore comfort one another with these words." "Thou hast commanded us to keep thy precepts diligently." "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness."

"Here is another bit from Joseph Cook that I think will help us," said Mrs. Parker. "'If every five years you can mark a Bible thoroughly, and memorise what is marked, it will be your best diary. You can do little better in reading than to fill the margins of a copy of the Scriptures once every five years full of the records of the deepest inmost in your souls, to be intelligible to yourself and to no one else. Shut the door on that record. Enter into your closet and keep your secrets with Almighty God.'"

"Why, I read a most delightful book lately called 'Daniel Quorm'" said Mrs. Lee, "that brought out the same idea. Daniel marked his Bible in that way—marked texts that expressed his state of mind or heart at the time and put the date in the margin. It occurred to me that it would be an excellent plan. One could judge in looking over a Bible so marked whether they were advancing or going back in their Christian experience."

"I heard Ralph Wells say, in a Sabbath-school convention last summer," said Miss Day, "'that it is he that doeth His will that is to know concerning the doctrine, and that no spectacles are so precious for right understanding of the Word as a conscience void of offence toward God and man.' He also said in reference to Bible study, 'Wonderful is the light one gains by simply looking out the references.' Another good thing that I remember from him, and that I have practised ever since is, that we 'ought to learn a verse of Scripture each day.'"

"There is one precious way in which the Scriptures are to be used that has not been mentioned yet," said one who had been silent thus far, but whose face expressed lively sympathy with all she heard, "we do not get the comfort from the promises that we might. The Lord says, 'Put me in remembrance, let us plead together.' I think we ought to take advantage of such a gracious permission, and bring a promise when we come before the Lord in prayer.

"I had an old neighbour once who owned bank stock to the amount of fifty thousand dollars, and yet he got it into his head that if he were not very saving, he should go to the poor-house. This grew upon him so, that he shut up all the rooms in his house, which was large and pleasant, and he and his wife lived in the kitchen, hovering in the coldest weather over a small fire because he thought he ought not to afford any more, when he had only to go to the bank and present his cheque to get all he needed. So we have only to put our names in the promises and plead them, and they are fulfilled to us. Instead of that, we go mourning about in the kitchen and down cellar, instead of sitting in the 'chamber of peace.'"

"I am sorry to say that our hour is more than up," Mrs. Lewis said. "Let us glance over what we have learned in the study of the Word: We need the teaching of the Holy Spirit. We are to pray for light on it. We are to love it, obey it, meditate on it, search it, desire it, talk of it, try all things by it, sound our experience by it, plead its promises, commit it to memory, trust in it. It is to be our food; no other food will feed an immortal soul. It is to be our joy, to give to us comfort, peace, faith, hope, patience, wisdom, and I will put the cap-stone on this beautiful arch by—'I commend you to God and to the Word of His grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them which are sanctified.'"