The direction in which the gravest dangers lie is one about which very few are faithful enough to write plainly; and the consequence is, that to many it is quite unsuspected, and to others who fall under its power it is allowed to go on unrebuked and unhindered.

Depend upon it there is some way of accounting for the strange "fascination" which those who indulge in dancing find in doing so: and we do not hesitate to say that in one of the main secrets of this fascination lies its greatest danger. What we allude to is the fact that the whole pleasure of dancing, as it is usually understood, lies in the fact that the dancer must dance with the opposite sex, or there is little or no pleasure about it.

We can fancy many a young lady who has never thought of it in its true light before, indignantly denying such a thought. Well! suppose that she has no such idea; but does she know that her partner has not? For herself, however, let her honestly ask, how long she would find such fascination in dancing, if she was restricted to ladies only for her partners, and let her conscience speak. Such a thing may just be tolerable very occasionally, when nothing else can be had. But were it the rule, we know what would become of dancing. Ladies can play tennis, and croquet, and other games together, but they would not long be content to dance together. Let it be tried, and it will be found that the main attraction is gone.

We cannot even fancy for a moment a young man attempting to deny what we say. Most young men know it well enough; but few are honest enough to confess it. Young men will play cricket, billiards, tennis, and every kind of game together; but they would never care to dance together. The days of dancing would be quickly numbered, if men had to choose their partners from amongst themselves.

Here lies unveiled the deepest secret of the fascination of dancing, although in some minds the truth has never yet found an entrance. Moreover, it places

the girl in the arms of her partner (of whose private life and character she may know next to nothing) in a manner which, to say the least of it, is not either "delicate" or "nice." How a right-minded girl can suffer it, we cannot imagine; and certainly it would not at any other time be tolerated for a moment. It weakens and breaks down the natural barrier of reserve between man and woman; it brushes off, sometimes almost unconsciously, the bloom of modesty; and in countless cases, either directly or indirectly, both with married and with single persons, it has opened the way to untold sorrow and sin. And this is equally true, whether it is only a casual "carpet dance," or the dance in the ball-room.

The thoughts which it is very apt to suggest are not always right and pure thoughts, certainly not spiritual thoughts; and were the history of thousands of blighted lives, in all conditions of society, only known, it would appear that the dance has resulted in the ruin. No truer words have ever been written than those of a young lady, who seems to know what she is writing about, and who closes her essay on dancing by stating "I believe it often does young men morally harm." Too true! But she might have added just as truly, "and young women also."

But on this score we have said enough to indicate where the danger lies. We have written plainly, because we wish to be faithful, and we think that all who will honestly face the question must see it in the same light.

What we have yet to say about dancing must remain over till next month.

"CHRISTIAN PROGRESS " ALMANACK FOR 1884.-This little Almanack is now ready. It contains all the usual features, Daily Texts, Short Readings, and Extracts. It will be found suitable for use at Christmas and New Year, instead of, or with, cards. Lastly, as a Daily Companion all the year, it will be an acceptable present to friends. It costs Id. It can be ordered from any Bookseller, or can be had from the Publishers, Messrs. Bemrose & Sons, 23, Old Bailey, London, E.C., post-free at Is. per dozen. Early Orders are requested.

Wounded in the House of His Friends.

By Florence Moreton.

(Continued from page 185.)

"I WAS WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF MY FRIENDS."-Zech. xiii. 6.

V. "But My people would not hearken to My voice: and Israel would none of Me. Oh that My people had hearkened unto Me, and Israel had walked in My ways" (Ps. lxxxi. 11, 13). Oh! if you are wandering from Him at this moment, does not this cry, which the pain of an unrequited love has wrung from the lips of Him who so loves you-does it not well-nigh break your heart; will it not bring you now-at once-to His feet in tears and repentance? Have you no pity for Him to whom your coldness, your absence from His side, has caused such grief? Greater love hath no man than His, and yet, "Israel would none of Me." If we will wander from Him and let other lords have dominion over us, He sometimes gives us the rein and lets us have our own way. "So I gave them up unto their own heart's lust and they walked in their own counsel" (ver 12). But still His heart is aching for them, knowing all the misery that following their own heart's lust will bring them. They are free agents-His love is so large, so majestic, that He will not force them to concentrate their love on Him, though He longs that they would do so; they are at liberty to give Him their whole love and devotion, or they are at liberty to give it all to the world. Only they must take the consequences. In the one case, He brings them into "a wealthy place;" in the other-they must "suffer loss." And we have used the liberty He has in His majesty given us to wound and grieve Him.

VI. "What iniquity have your fathers found in Me, that they are gone far from Me?... My people have changed their

glory for that which doth not profit.

My people have. . forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns that can hold no water.

It is

an evil thing and bitter" (Jer. ii. 2-19). "I remember thee" (ver. 2). Is it not enough to make us ashamed of our forgetfulness of Him? It is not only us He remembers, but also "the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine espousals, when thou wentest after Me in the wilderness." And yet what a cold thing our love for Him was, even at its best and warmest. Does not this declaration of His remembrance of it, show us, more than anything else perhaps, how He prizes our love, how He longs for it, and desires to possess it entirely? His own is so great that He cannot be indifferent as to how much of ours we will give Him in return. He so desires it, that, as one has said, His heart is melted when He has it-He is overcome by it-"Turn away thine eyes from Me, for they have overcome Me." We have thought our God invincible, but here we find there is one thing that can overcome Him-our love. In those days, when our heart did burn with love for Him, "Israel was holiness unto the Lord" (ver. 3). It is when our love is waning, that holiness loses its beauty and desirableness in our eyes. "MY PEOPLE have been worse than the heathen, for they hold to their gods, which are yet no gods, but My PEOPLE have changed their glory (a reality, not a nothing) for that which doth not profit" (Is. lx. 19; Zec. ii. 5). Well may He exclaim, "Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this, and be horribly afraid . . . . for My people . . . . have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." Could you believe anyone would be so foolish? Fancy hewing out broken cisterns! Hewing them too-deliberately expending their labour and strength on them. Not only have we no water wherewith to refresh our own weary, thirsty souls, but we

can no longer water others. It is indeed " an evil thing and bitter, that thou hast forsaken the Lord Thy God." No wonder when we wake up to find how we have grieved Him who treasures up the memory of our love in time past—no wonder that in our shame and grief at having wounded Him -we cry, "There is no hope; no, for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go" (ver. 25). I elected to follow strangers," and now, after them must I go. We persuade our miserable selves that it is better for Him, after such a defection on our part, that we should keep away from Him, so that He cannot possibly again be wounded by His friends. Ah! not so. "Thou hast destroyed thyself, but in Me is thine help." There is hope, there is lifting up even for us. How can there be? In this fact-that He who "remembers" our love, forgets our coldness. He remembers us, but will not remember our sins (31, 34; Heb. x. 17). Our gracious God has a wonderful memory, He remembers some things so long, and forgets others so quickly! He remembers just the best things about us, and forgets the things we are ashamed of, sorely though we have wounded Him in them. After He has said "I will not remember thy sins," He adds, "Put Me in remembrance." Since He remembers our love, shall we not cry from the depth of our heart— "We will remember Thy love?" "The desire of our soul is to the remembrance of Thee."

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VII. "For the transgression of My people was He stricken" (Is. liii. 8). Perhaps, of all His plaintive utterances concerning His people's wandering from Him, none so touches us to the quick as this. That "He" had been stricken at all was pain enough, but that it was MY PEOPLE'S " transgression that had brought about such a result, must have intensified the grief of the Father's heart tenfold. The agony of the cry is concentrated on those two words—“ My people." What love He bore them, that for their sakes He