CHAPTER III.-"A HIDEOUS PHOTOGRAPH." IGHT-hearted and happy, Gwendoline diligently directed her steps towards Heathcot. Whether she expected such implicit obedience to her commands was, however, to be doubted; for, as the distance between herself and her home increased, she more than once looked back along the dusty country road or winding lane. When the gates of Heathcot were in sight she stopped, and, with two bounds, sprang up a green mossy bank crowned by a low hedge, which commanded an extensive view all along the road by which she had come. She did not stand there very long, and when she descended, the expression on her face was decidedly not all contentment, and she passed within the Vernons' gates. There were a great many girls in Atherton; indeed, an extraordinary number of them, considering the size of the little town. Among them all, Gwendoline's chief friends and most intimate acquaintances were the two sisters, Naomi and Bessie Vernon. There were drawbacks to this friendship, as there are to most things. It is perhaps difficult to define the why and the wherefore, but it is an undoubted fact that one person cannot keep up an equal friendship with two sisters. The one person becomes a perfect shuttlecock, taken up and put down by each sister in turn, and this unsatisfactory state of things continues until a certain point be reacheda point which is sooner or later sure to arrive-when the friend must in a measure take the one and let the other go. Gwendoline Majendie and Naomi and Bessie Vernon had been intimate friends all their lives, as far back as they could remember, and all this while the shuttlecock business had been carried on with briskness; the certain point had not yet been reached; but the girls were growing older now, were stretching out beyond the world of “opinions," and beginning to think " thoughts." At the same time Gwendoline was beginning to feel instinctively that the one sister would be by her own choice left behind on the beaten track, preferring it to the lonely ways; whilst the other was near her, able to grasp her hand in sympathy, would give thought for thought, would travel with her into a new country where there was no limited horizon bound; and this testified that the certain point was not far distant-the inevitable selection. Gwendoline slackened her pace, and passed round to the back of the house. There was a certain little morning-room, where she pretty well knew that the girls would be surely found busy over their daily duties; nor was she mistaken, they were both there, and both rose simultaneously to open the window, that she might step in. "How can you sit with the window shut on such a beautiful morning!" was her greeting; "really, one would think it was mid-winter!?' "We found it a little chilly," said Naomi, perceiving that Gwendoline was slightly put out about something. “Are you alone? How is it you have not brought Basil Crawford with you?" inquired Bessie, with some curiosity. This was exactly calculated to make Gwendoline a little more put out still; and, with some asperity, she remarked, "Do you not care to see me without him ?" “Well, to be candid with you, I should have been still more pleased to see you if you had brought him. he is such capital company, although yesterday I am sure he was as sulky as a bear at your house. By the way, what do you think of his new photograph?” "Which photograph ?" inquired Gwendoline, who had seated herself at the edge of a hard chintz sofa, and commenced pulling off her gloves. By way of reply Bessie turned over the pages of a photographic album-the one she wanted was in one of the first pages of the album, where, as a rule, the "nice ones" go, the new ones taking the place of those older and less satisfactory, which are gradually GOLD IN THE SKY. sent to the end of the book, till scarcity of space banishes them finally to the "room of horrors," as the "old book" gets called. 67 and if they differed in opinion, it would be generally "There, is that not good? Is not he good-looking?" easily pleased and not easily impressed. It was his said Bessie, triumphantly. "I should call his face rather a pleasant clever one than a handsome one," added Naomi. Now, Gwendoline had not previously seen this photograph of Basil Crawford; she considered it, therefore, mean and unkind on his part to have handed over a copy of it to Bessie before vouchsafing her even a sight of it. It was therefore with considerable decision that she said, "Oh, shocking! That photograph is downright ugly-I call it hideous! Look at his collar; really, he looks like a monkey! I am not astonished now that he did not show it to me." Bessie was piqued. A childish thrill of pleasure had passed through her when she found he had not honoured Gwendoline with a private view of the photograph, so, by way of holding to her position, she said, "He had a good many more of the same, and I dare say he will give you one if you ask him for it." “Oh, I shall see enough of it, there's no fear about that," answered Gwendoline; "it will be lying about the tables and in the albums, and then I dare say he will present one to every girl in the place." pleasure, when spoken to on such matters, to boast that he was an artist; and, in spite of an excessive constitutional idleness, he managed each year to get through a certain number of wishy-washy watercolour drawings, which went through the annual round of rejections at exhibitions, until they returned, gorgeously framed, to decorate the walls of Atherton Hall. Claude, the more earnest thoughtful man, had long since come to a conclusion regarding Gwendoline; to him it seemed a wonder that any one could compare her to another, let the other be as fair as the morning, or even think of any one else when she was by. Although he was less brilliant in society than his brother, he had a quiet observative way of his own, and often noted those things which passed Cyril by unheeded. Claude generally accomplished things, whilst Cyril thought about them. And now that he had made up his mind with regard to Gwendoline, he was sorely troubled on two matters; firstly, as to what her feelings were in the matter; and secondly what were his brother's; if he should also be entertaining serious feelings with regard to her it would "Well, you had better make haste and try and sorely complicate matters. get one before they are all gone," said Bessie. "Oh no, I do not care for bad photographs; he knows better than to offer me a photograph he might be sure I would not have," answered Gwendoline. "What a shame!" said Bessie. "I really thought you had quite an affection for him; but if you cared for him you would not say he was like a monkey, and that his collar was ridiculous! Poor fellow! If you have been treating him in that cold sarcastic way since he has been staying with you, no wonder he was so unlike himself at the croquet party. Well, I shall try and make it up to him when I see him." "Mr. Claude and Mr. Cyril Egerton are in the drawing-room, and Mrs. Vernon says will you please to come in and see them," announced a servant at the door. This created some sensation amongst the girls. Naomi and Bessie both rose from their seats, and pulled and patted their hair at the looking-glass, giving themselves a general sort of shake at the same time; Gwendoline set her hat more straightly on her head, and, together, they went to the drawing-room. It was no unusual sight to see the brothers together; indeed, it was rare to see them apart; it was generally said that such a pair of united brothers were seldom met with. There was but little difference in their ages, and at all times they had been devoted friends and companions. Claude had more wisdom and strength of character than his younger brother possessed; but, as is often the case with strong characters, he yielded in small things to the weaker one, "We have been to your house," was Claude's greeting to Gwendoline; "they told us we should probably find you here. We went to call on your guest, Mr. Crawford, and found him enjoying a cosy tête-à-tête with Mrs. Majendie." "Ah! and did not they look the picture of cosiness?" broke in Cyril; your mamma, Gwendoline, looking splendid on the blue silk sofa, and Crawford in an arm-chair close by, a little table between them, with the silver biscuit-box and thin-stemmed glasses, they were just a picture of ease and enjoyment; we interrupted a most earnest talk, I am afraid." "We were somewhat astonished to hear that Mr. Crawford is leaving to-morrow," added Claude. "No; he does not leave till Monday," answered Gwendoline. "I assure you he does," continued Claude; 'he and Mrs. Majendie were discussing his departure; perhaps it has been settled since your absence. But we went to ask him and all of you to come and dine with us one day, and as he is going to leave tomorrow, I have persuaded him and Mrs. Majendie to come to-day; and Mrs. Majendie has undertaken that none of the doctor's patients shall be ill, so that he may come too. I then determined to come on as far as Heathcot, and ask Mrs. Vernon if she would excuse such short notice, and kindly join us." "And I have been saying that we shall be very pleased to go," said Mrs. Vernon, looking at her girls, whose smiling faces told her their approval of the scheme. "I will see you back as far as your gate," said Claude, rising, later, when Gwendoline rose to go, saying as she did so, that so much had transpired at home since her absence that she must go and see, and hear all the consequences. open door, and Mrs. Stubbs retreated behind him into the house, pushing him into fuller view as she did so. He was a powerfully-made young man, and his shabby ill-conditioned town-made clothes looked Cyril chose to be left behind, being at this moment strange to eyes accustomed to the get-up of farmvery busy mending a fan for Bessie. That's just what I say," said Claude. Mrs. Stubbs was the wife of a navvy, and on her own account she did some business as a washerwoman. She had just deposited a row of clothes on a neighbouring hedge, and was about to enter her door, when she perceived the three visitors approaching. She was a red-faced, black-eyed, sharplooking woman. There was an habitual frown on her face; but the change of expression which came over her was marvellous when she perceived who were her visitors; she dropped the humblest of curtseys, and, wreathed in smiles, she invited them to enter her cottage. But there was an air of disorder and untidiness which rendered the kitchen far from attractivelooking, and, with one voice, they said they had no time to stay. "I only called to see your nephew," added Claude; "my brother wished me to see him, and as I was passing by I thought I would look in." "Yes sir, please sir, I am sure you are very good. Jem!" she yelled into the house, in a harsh, discordant voice. "I am sure I am very much obliged to you. Here, Jem, come and talk to the squire; he is here." A rough-looking young man appeared at the house boys. His face was not ugly, but his expression was unpleasant, nor did his manners express much deference as he stood before the squire. “Is this the young man?" said the squire, turning to his brother. "Yes," answered Cyril, not feeling very proud of his protégé. "I suppose you have been living in town-in London, perhaps?" inquired Claude. Yes, sir, I was born and bred in London, this was the first time as I ever left it." "And what caused you to do so?" A greater contrast could scarcely have been presented, than the two men who now faced one anotherthe decidedly unpleasant-looking Londoner, out at elbows, and tattered, in clothes which had once been of a fast and questionable cut, his rough hair creeping over his low brows down to his eyes, and shading them, as they took inventory and stock of the man who was addressing him. Claude Egerton, upright, fair-haired, without any beauty of feature, but withal the very ideal of a young country squire, in his light brown tweeds perfectly fitting, his clear skin and open brow, the very antipodes to falsehood and cunning. The stranger gave but an unsatisfactory shambling account of himself, and Claude could not feel predisposed in his favour; had it not been for his brother's strong recommendation to mercy, and his own hurry to fill up the vacant situation of under-keeper with any one capable of comprehending and fulfilling its duties as soon as possible, he would most assuredly have turned away, and forgotten the man as quickly as he could. As matters were, however, he did not like to disappoint Cyril, who stood beside him, waiting and listening, and occasionally putting in a good word for the man. THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS. 69 THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS. 1.-THE BIRTH OF HOLINESS. "Put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness."-EPHESIANS iv. 24. them. It is remarkable that oftener than once in Scripture God is introduced as swearing by His holiness" (Ps. lxxxix. 35; Amos iv. 2), language never used regarding any other single attribute or perfection of the Divine character. The power of the Almighty is holy power, His wisdom is holy wisdom, His love is holy love, His mercy is holy mercy, and so it may be asserted of all His other perfections, for He is "glorious in holiness." OLINESS, says the author of "The | fections, and casting a glory upon every one of Blessedness of the Righteous," is that "great attribute which, even in a remote descent from its original, is frequently mentioned with the adjunct of beauties.' The expression, however, is found mostly in the singular-" the beauty of holiness"-" Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness." When met with in the Old Testament, in the books of Chronicles and the Psalms (1 Chron. xvi. 29; 2 Chron. xx. 21; Ps. xxix. 2, xcvi. 9, cx. 3), it has been variously translated as -"in holy attire," "holy ornaments," "after the solemn manner" of priests, "in the pomp of holiness,"" in His beautiful sanctuary." The very variety of these translations seems clearly to show that at first, under the Levitical economy, the words had reference to external accompaniments of worship in the order, vestments, and ornaments, which were deemed proper, needful, or becoming in approaching the Majesty of God, the Invisible King. But the words soon passed from the outward to the inward-from the service to the soul rendering it. In the one case and the other they had a respect first of all and supremely to the character of God. By this name He has chosen specially to be distinguished. "Speak unto all the congregation of the children of Israel, and say unto them, Ye shall be holy: for I the Lord your God am holy" (Lev. xix. 2). "Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy" (Is. lvii. 15). Thus is He addressed by the seraphim in sublime response to each other "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of His glory" (Is. vi. 3). The same adoring utterance is found as used amidst the splendid visions of the Apocalypse-" Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come” (Rev. iv. 8). The whole arrangements of the Mosaic economy were fixed and ordered specially to impress this grand truth on the minds of the worshippers; and again and again the saints on earth are summoned to "give thanks at the remembrance of His holiness" (Ps. xxx. 4, xcvii. 12). For us, therefore, as creatures of God, made originally in His image, holiness is the fittest characteristic. We are called to be holy, to be separate from all sin; the highest obligation rests upon us to be holy. But though made "at first upright,” man has fallen-grievously fallen. "How is the gold become dim? how is the most fine gold changed?" There is none righteous, no, not one;" "All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." The reign of sin is universal, and all the world has become guilty before God. How far, then, is holiness from us, and how is it to be reached? We are sinful and defiled, polluted and impure. The defilement and degradation of our condition cannot be exaggerated. We are "sold under sin," lost to goodness and to truth, yet are we commanded to be holy; and only in holiness can be found and exhibited the true moral symmetry of the soul. Therefore, to be holy, there must be a new birth of the soul. Holiness in man's character now is altogether a Divine production, the result and manifestation of a Divine change in the soul. Herein it differs essentially from virtue, and the difference requires specially to be noted. The 'natural man -man as he comes into the world and grows up in human society, guided and governed only by worldly influences-may be virtuous, but the "natural man" cannot thus of himself become holy. The distinction is important and vital. Holiness, in its purity and obedience, has a supreme love and respect to God; morality has not necessarily any such respect. We have many men outwardly respectable in all their deportment, with a good report in society, active and industrious, paying their debts, and successful in their business, elevated probably by their fellow. citizens to positions of trust and honour, as common-councilmen,aldermen, and mayors, thoroughly moral men, and yet may-be without any love to God or any regard to His will; perhaps only virtuous infidels, not in any sense holy men. Their whole morality is but a virtue which has regard exclusively to this life and this world, without a thought of another, and without any recognition of God. I knew an amiable and talented youth, who, by his ability and ingenuity devoted to a particular branch of textile manufacture, upraised a large business, and gained a wide commercial fame, so that he was esteemed and honoured. But, in a most unfilial spirit, he left in early life the home where he had been fondly nourished and lovingly cared for; and throughout his success and growing reputation he shunned all communication with his parents, and cherished a strong aversion to them, especially to his mother. Nothing could induce him to return home or be to them as a son. What was all his success or prosperity to them, when he resisted and rejected all the ties of filial relationship and all the parental overtures of love? The world knew him only as an enterprising and successful man; but in his duty and obligations as a son he was sadly deficient. So with multitudes in the world around us, who utterly disregard their relationship to God as their Heavenly Father. They may be active men of business, pleasant neighbours, and honourable in all their dealings, with a character which is virtuous, becoming, praiseworthy, and useful for this life, but without God. They are not holy; and without holiness no man shall see the Lord" (Heb. xii. 14). Yet, as children of God, and morally responsible creatures, we are encompassed with obligation, precept, and motive, requiring us to be holy. But holiness does not grow in the natural soil of the human heart, it is not a product of "the natural it is the result of a spiritual birth-the new birth of the soul," not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever (1 Peter i. 23). There must be "the washing of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost" (Titus iii. 5). As the product of regeneration, men are begotten to it by the implantation of the principle of a new and heavenly birth, through the Gospel of the Son of God, and by the power of the Holy Spirit. The word of grace is the seed of the new creation in the soul. "If any man be in Christ he is a new creature" (2 Cor. v. 17). Holiness in every case begins with a birth—a birth of the soul from above. Regarding this birth Christ Himself said, "Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." 66 man; But let no one suppose that because this work of the Spirit of God is mysterious it is therefore capricious. The Divine gift is within the reach of all, and is free to all. "If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?" (Luke xi. 13). The mission of the Comforter is commensurate with the love of the Father and the Son; and all may find His gracious quickening power, so that holiness is possible to all. That which is here insisted on is, that holiness is not a natural development, no result of any human efforts, but the result of a personal and living union to the Son of God, in which the soul is born again: "The new man which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness;" and this creation by the Spirit of God is realised by all who believe in Christ. 66 66 II. How is holiness distinguished? What are some of the tokens of its birth in the soul? If holiness is required in every one of us, and if without it no man shall see the Lord," it is of the utmost importance that there be no misapprehension or misunderstanding of its nature. Note well some of its tokens. The birth of holiness is always marked by true sorrow for sin. This will not be a mere passing regret for having done this or that act against God, but a deep feeling of sorrow because of having in us the feeling and principle of opposition to the Divine will. It will be a godly sorrow which worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of" (2 Cor. vii. 10). There may not be great inquietude or much alarm; although, if the outward life has been openly vicious, there may be acute anguish in the birth of holiness in the soul; but there must be sorrow "after a godly sort." How can it be otherwise, when a creature with such capacity finds that he has so prostituted his powers, and one so lofty has so debased himself by sin? God has been forgotten; His love has not been cherished; His will has not been obeyed; his glory has not been sought. With the birth of holiness come new views of sin; and the mere neglect or indifference of former days is felt to have been haughty rebellion against God or vile ingratitude towards Him, and thoughts and things considered harmless are found to have been utterly godless. Thus, "old things are passed away, all things are become new;" and a contrite heart comes with the change-a true sense of unworthiness in the sight of Him to whom we owe everything, and who has followed us with a Father's care, and nourished us with a mother's tenderness. The beginning of holiness is invariably realised in true repentance for sin. The birth of holiness is also marked by strong hatred of sin. Sorrow refers chiefly to the past; hatred is a present feeling toward a present foe. To the soul who through faith in Christ finds "the regeneration," sin is the abominable and offensive thing, the one thing to be detested as antagonistic to God and man, destructive to the creature, dishonouring to the Creator. Those "that love the Lord hate evil" (Ps. xcvii. 10). In the new birth from above the habit of the soul is so far changed that it cannot but hate sin. There will be a dislike and loathing of all iniquity as that |