"I am afraid," said I, "that Richard the Licnhearted knew little about that sort of royalty, although he was crowned with more than ordinary pomp in the old Abbey yonder. We are told that he walked up the long aisle between the Bishops of Durham and Bath, and four barons held a silken canopy over them."

"The kings

"I fear not," Norman answered. of those days had strong arms and hard hearts; whereas, the real kings always unite gentleness with strength. They made wild work in their kingdoms-those princes of old."

I bestowed one parting glance on Coeur de Lion as we left the spot, and kept the picture of his majesty in my thoughts for many a long day. I little knew then that a time was coming when I should stand in the very place where we stood on that morning, and thank God for Norman Dayne's words with all the strength of my heart.

CHAPTER VII.

GOING HOME.

HRISTMAS-DAY came, bringing with it the old thoughts of peace and goodwill, and there were joyful Christmas services in Norman's parish; a spirit

of love and thanksgiving seemed to pervade all that he did and said. The unpretentious church, whose walls were not mellowed by time, and whose windows were destitute of jewelled panes, grew dearer to me than many a stately edifice that I have beheld in later years. I loved the heartiness of worship I found within that simple building, the full burst of sacred song in which all present took part, and the reverence and earnestness of the worshippers. Thither came hungry souls, eager to be fed; and the bread of life was dealt out to them in no stinted measure. But the preacher, plain and practical as he ever was, had gifts of voice and manner which riveted the attention of his hearers at once. Always straightforward, always in earnest, he knew how to clothe rich

thoughts in simple Saxon phrases. And thus his sentences lingered in the memories of those who listened to them, to be quoted in many homes as household words, by some who were to behold his face no more.

We were a happy party on that Christmas night, as we three sat round the parsonage-fire. Mrs. Dayne, her calm face wearing its sweetest smile, held my hand clasped in hers, while her eyes sought her son's countenance continually. He, too, looked peaceful and contented, leaning back in his cushioned chair in an unwonted attitude of ease.

"Are you tired?" his mother asked him.

"A little tired in body," he answered. "Just that wholesome kind of fatigue which makes one enjoy a night's sleep."

"Don't you ever feel the need of relaxation ?" I queried.

"Of relaxation, yes; of recreation, no;" he answered, smiling.

"But some people cannot get on without amusement," said I.

"That is not my case," he answered, smiling again. "And I think I am of my favourite author's mind, Annie. 'When men are rightly occupied, their amusement grows out of their work, as the colour-petals out of a fruitful flower.'"

“That cannot be said if the work is of a distasteful kind," I argued. "And God does not set all of us to congenial labour, Mr. Dayne."

"He always sets us about that business for which

we are most fitted, Annie. Mind, I do not say that business for which we think we are most fitted, for we are apt to judge wrongly of our own capabilities. When people insist on choosing a different vocation from that which God has given them, they make great mistakes."

"Yet some folks seem to be kept in the wrong places all their lives, Mr. Dayne. They never get on, and never do anything that is really worth doing." "Then that is the fault of the persons, and not of their places. Depend upon it, that a man who cannot work in his own sphere will never work in any other. And if a noble man occupies an ignoble position, he is put there because he has a certain task to accomplish. Then, too, there is no real degradation in any labour unless it is defiled by sin. Doesn't George Herbert quaintly say,

'All may of Thee partake;
Nothing can be so mean,

Which, with His tincture (for Thy sake),
Will not grow bright and clean.

'A servant with this clause

Makes drudgery divine;

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,
Makes that and the action fine.'

Don't you see the practical heartiness in those lines, Annie?"

"I, too, cannot refrain from quoting Herbert," said Mrs. Dayne; "there was a verse of his which my husband loved to repeat:

'Peace, muttering thoughts, and do not grudge to keep
Within the walls of your own breast;

Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep,

Can on another's hardly rest.""

We laughed at the quaint way in which the old poet had framed a great truth; but my heart told me that I had often been guilty of the very fault which the lines so sharply reproved.

"After all," said Norman, more gravely, "one must not be hard upon the young if they are sometimes dissatisfied with the posts which God has assigned to them. It was not until many years of labour and discipline had passed over his head, that St. Paul could say, 'I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.''

There were other fireside talks wherein much good seed was sown; little hints were dropped, as if by accident, which took root and bare fruit afterwards, "some fifty, some an hundredfold." And suggestions were offered respecting the best method of visiting among those poorer neighbours of mine at Flatshore, -neighbours to whom I had not given many thoughts. My visit was drawing near its close, and although I had resolved that my home life should be brighter and better for the lessons I had learned, it cost me many pangs to think of parting with the Daynes. With them it seemed so easy to be and to do what was right; their influence appeared to draw out my good qualities, and keep my evil ones in the background. "We shall be sorry to lose you, Annie," said Nor

man.

"We shall miss you much, very much. But