resolved last quarter to be economical and save up something for the new church, I had hardly anything left at the end of it. It is true I did teach at the school a little, and visit a few people, but what is that compared to what I ought to have done?"

By this time they had reached the gate, and Ellen, drying her tears, was soon talking almost merrily with the children, who ran up eagerly at the sight of their former teacher. Edward had forgotten the little Guernsey French he had once known, and stood by, glad to see his favourite sister so happy; but wondering what pleasure she could find in talking to a set of dirty little things like those. Captain Crawford called them dirty, because most officers in her Majesty's service, if they think on the subject at all, think rags and dirtiness necessary attendants on poor children; but if Captain Crawford had looked, he would have seen as clean and neat a flock of little ones around his sister as the United Kingdom could produce.

Just as they were going to return to the house a man passed by, and touched his hat to Miss Crawford in the somewhat off-hand manner which (we must confess it) our fellow-countrymen usually employ. Ellen stopped a moment to make some inquiries of him about his wife and children, and then turned home-wards, saying, as she took her brother's arm,—

"I dare say a good dinner would do that man's daughter a world of good; she is ill, and they are very poor: but then there is no way of sending it."

"Where do they live?" asked Edward.

"Oh, it is half-an-hour's walk: they live close to the beach."

"I'll take it," said he; and added, by way of apology, "I should rather like a walk before dinner."

A happy gleam passed over Ellen's face, but she only said,—

"Thank you, Edward," and gave him one very bright look, when he left her on her sofa and went to fetch some meat for the sick girl.

It was with feelings of amusement, rather than anything else, that Edward set out on what was probably the first errand of mercy he had ever undertaken. He had done it merely to please his sister, and could not help laughing at the idea of what some of his brother-officers would say if they could see Crawford of the —— Regiment carrying food to a sick girl. But his conversation with Ellen soon returned to his mind, and the thought struck him, "If my good, unselfish little sister, thinks her time and money have been wasted, what have mine been? According to her, the sixpence which I have occasionally thrown to a beggar to quiet my conscience was only half charity, because I did not add 'kind words,' as she would say. But I wonder what people would say if I were to inquire after the birth, parentage, and education of every street-sweeper I came across? No, my vocation is to defend my Queen and country, and not to act the charitable." Something whispered, "Cannot you do both?" but Edward would not listen, and soon arrived at his destination. The door was opened by the sick girl's mother, who, with her "Bon jour, monsieur! Entrez, s'il vous plait," took Edward rather by surprise, and would by no means hear of receiving the gift outside the door. This was more than he had bargained for; he had come on a message from Ellen, not for a charitable visit on her own account: but there was no alternative, and go in he must. The woman spoke a little English; and while she poured forth her gratitude to Miss Crawford, together with a long account of her daughter's maladies, saying so much in one breath that it became a question whether she would ever breathe again, Captain Crawford looked at the sick girl lying pale and thin by the fire; and when he thought how miserable her lot was compared even with his sister's, whose sufferings were soothed by all that affection could suggest or that money could buy, his heart—for he had a heart, and a warm one too—was touched, and his hand went to the waistcoat pocket where the sixpence had been deposited in the morning. He was disappointed to find so little there, and