When did new hats or new dresses ever give any one a contented heart? True, to look into the young girl's face you might think she was very happy; but her happiness was short-lived. A whisper reached her ears.

"Did you ever see such a vain girl?" said Ella Clark to the girl next to her.

"No; Prinkie grows more like a peacock every day. I don't believe she ever thinks of anything beyond new clothes."

"Now you watch her. When Miss Winthrop asks her a question she simpers and looks down at her gloves and smooths her laces as if she thought those things were the most important."

"I suppose she does think just that!"

Now Prinkie did not hear all of this, but she caught enough of it to understand the drift of the talk, and she was angry and mortified. "Like a peacock," indeed! Was a girl to be called names because she had a new hat? When would one wear new clothes if not on Easter Sunday? Was not the church and Sunday-school room tastefully decorated? It was real mean of those girls to spoil her enjoyment of her new hat by such ill-natured remarks. True she had not been quite satisfied. Her gloves were not an exact match for the hat, and she had pouted a little that morning over the fact, and grandma had vexed her by saying "Mary"—her real name is Mary—"Mary, I am afraid that in dressing for the day you are thinking more of yourself and too little of the meaning of Easter."

Was it true, as they all seemed to think, that she thought of nothing else than her clothes? What was the superintendent saying: "Let us not lose sight of the event we celebrate to-day. We would be miserable indeed were it not for this most glorious truth that our Christ is not a dead Christ, but a living Saviour. And in our admiration and enjoyment of these decorations, these floral offerings which you have brought, in these symbols let us not forget what we symbolize. The resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord is our theme; let us sing with joyful voice:

Prinkie sang with the rest, and only Miss Winthrop noticed the troubled expression which rested upon the young girl's face. Miss Winthrop was very much troubled about her class; they were girls from twelve to fifteen years old. Some of them were church members, but nearly all seemed given over to frivolity. During the winter just passed there had been some religious interest in other classes in the school, yet these girls, absorbed in school, children's parties, and dress, had frittered the time away, and, so far as their teacher could see, had made little progress in the divine life. She had come before them this Easter morning with a heavily burdened heart. She had prayed that they might awaken to a newness of life, that the Easter lessons might sink into their hearts, that the shackles of sin and frivolity which held them might be broken, that they might henceforth abound in the fruits of righteousness. And now as she listened to their chatter and noticed their enjoyment of their fluttering ribbons, and heard the light tinkle of their bangles, she sighed over the apparent failure of her hopes for them. She turned towards them at the beginning of the lesson-hour, saying:

"Girls, we ought to be very bright and happy this morning, else we should be very sad. If we have a part in this rejoicing, if it is our Saviour of whom we sing 'The Lord is risen indeed' then we have a right to be glad. If He who is risen is one whom we have rejected, then we have no call to rejoice; why should we care? Some of us have professed to be his friends, and the nearer we have been living to him, the more faithful to our vows we have been, the more precious He is to our hearts, the more we may rejoice in the truth of the resurrection. Whether we have hitherto been living for Christ or not, this is a good time to begin anew. 'Like as Christ was raised up from the dead, even so we also should walk in newness of life.' Let us put away old things that have been hindering us and serve in newness of spirit. Let this be a real true Easter to every one of us." There was more of that earnest talk and it seemed to sink into the hearts of those who heard it. I can only tell you how one acted upon the lessons of the day. The hardest lesson had been the whispered words which she overheard; but the tender pleading of Miss Winthrop had softened her and she walked homeward alone, having turned away from the fluttering group. She was thinking:

"The girls call me vain—and say I am like a peacock, and Miss Winthrop is sad over me, and all for the same reason. I don't like to have the girls talk about me, and I don't like to have Miss Winthrop sad; I wonder if I am such a giddy girl! I suppose it is true; I do think too much of dress. I suppose I might look nice without thinking so much about it and without showing that I do. Miss Winthrop talked about newness of life—I wish I could be made over all new. Then I wouldn't be Mary Brown. Yes, I might; I am Prinkie Brown now. I won't be called Prinkie any more. I'll be Mary, and I will live for something better than dress."

"Prinkie," called Mrs. Brown as the young girl came down stairs after putting away the new hat which had become less precious.

"Mamma, please do not call me that any more. And will you please not let any one else call me so? I hate the name and I am going to be Mary Brown after this."

Mary could not tell her mother that she had resolved to "walk in newness of life," for Mrs. Brown was not a religious woman, and the child felt that she would not understand her. But to her grandmother she said as she lingered in her room at evening:

"Grandmamma, this has been a true Easter to me!"

This was a year ago, and Mary Brown still wears new hats, from time to time, and still dresses as seems to befit the daughter of a man of wealth, but no one calls her "Prinkie." No one would think of comparing her to a peacock; for she walks in newness of life; every Sabbath is to her a glad Easter.