INTRODUCED AT GREYSTONE.

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"Trust ye in the Lord FOR EVER," said Allan. "I feel so calm, Florrie,-so confident."

"That she will get well, dear Allan ?"

"I don't know exactly," said Allan. "But that all will be well somehow. My dear Flora, I have learned something of you."

"More than I know myself, I think, Allan," replied Flora, humbly. "I am thankful, dear; but I feel myself an unworthy worldly instrument, so dishonouring to God that I cannot rejoice as I would. Oh, Allan, these few hours have made me feel myself so guilty, and I see that I, who might have known better, have been proud and self-glorifying. I have been a pharisee, Allan; I know I have. I have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. Pray for me, dear Allan; you know more than I, now."

"We will pray together in spirit," said Allan, "remembering the promise to the two who are agreed to ask the same thing in Christ's name,-not only that Kate may recover, but that this trouble may be of use to us all. I cannot tell you how strong I feel to-night. I almost feel as if Kate will get well. I am sure God has heard us some way, for Christ's sake. We know it is not His will that any should perish, and we know that if we ask anything according to His will, He heareth us."

Flora wished him good-night, and went in search of her father. She found him talking to George, in a subdued voice, in the drawing-room. He bade her good-night very kindly, and, holding her in his arms for a minute, looked rather anxiously at her.

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HEAD-WORK AND HEART-WORK.

'Flora, you sometimes pray, my girl; don't forget your sister to-night."

Flora pressed her lips slowly on his forehead, and withdrew. There was but little rest for her that night; she continued the greater part of it in prayer, sometimes stealing to her sister's room to listen to the now wild raving of the high delirium. What a night of self-examination was that, and now Flora saw that as yet her heart had not been right in the sight of God, that something was wanting; that she had never hitherto known her utter sinfulness, and inability to do right of herself. She had learned by head that Christ must do all, and has done all; but that she herself needed a personal, heartfelt, and saving interest in this finished work, she had not experimentally learned; but that night taught her much, and the seed sown in the tears of this and the succeeding days, sprang up an hundredfold afterwards, and was reaped in joy.

"I will be as the dew unto Israel; he shall grow as the lily, and cast forth his roots as Lebanon."-Hosea xiv. 5.

"Add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly-kindness; and to brotherly-kindness charity."-2 Pet. i. 5, 6, 7.

MORNING came, bringing with it no alleviation of anguish to the sufferer, and slender hopes were held out to her friends of her ultimate recovery. As Kate was now quite unconscious, Flora was allowed to take her place in the sick-room, and most gladly and actively did she fulfil her part-never administering a medicine, or renewing the application of ice to her sister's head, without seeking a blessing from the Great Disposer of all events. Kate's pretty hair had all been cut off, and it was with many a pang of regret that Flora recalled the few words that passed between them on the evening of the ball, as she cooled her sister's hot hand, and changed the pillow, with its cover of cool leaves, under the distracted head of the

poor patient. All she could do was to pray-there was nothing else to be done for her.

"My poor child," said her mother, as, in the dim light the constant habit of being in the darkened room had made familiar, she watched the restless movements and wild delirium of her daughter; "my poor, poor darling! Flora, what are we to do ?"

"Dear mamma, God can cure her."

"Yes, dear; I trust He will, my dear. But, oh!". "Dearest mamma," said Flora, very gently, "we must pray in the name of Jesus. Dear mamma, we have been praying for her; perhaps this trouble is sent to bring us all closer to God. We have been very far from Him, very sadly forgetful-I have, dear mamma. We must not give her a medicine without asking a blessing."

"You are a good girl, Flora, and a great comfort to me," said poor Mrs. Grey, rather absently. "Pray, my child, for your poor sister."

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"Mamma, suppose we were to send to Mr. Sin church for her."

pray

'Do, dear," said her mother, eagerly.

Flora was gone directly. A few words to the effect were written on a slip of paper, and it was committed to Allan to be conveyed to the town in time before service. Flora accompanied her brother to the gate, and watched him down the road, with an earnest prayer. The fresh cold air revived her, and she stood in the portico sadly thinking, till the pleasant sounds of the distant church bells came faintly on the breeze, recalling the first time she had returned from school,

and many happy, peaceful lessons she had learned in Bath. Lizzie, too, who had been forgotten in the whirl of her recent gaieties, came in for a share of the rapid retrospect, and David's prayer went up to heaven: "I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek Thy servant, for I do not forget Thy commandments." In after days Flora and her brothers often looked back to that time of sickness, for then it was that the great work amongst them was advanced most decidedly. To Flora it was a time of great importance and privilege, when she was brought into the valley of Achor—a valley to her, of self-reproach, fear, and anxiety, but where she really experienced some of her greatest joys; where the promise was fulfilled to her, that there the Lord will speak to the heart of His sorrowful child.

The many prayers were heard, and most unexpectedly the invalid's life was lengthened, and by slow degrees, through the instrumentality of careful nursing, Kate was restored to her place in the family. When the excitement was over Mrs. Grey fell ill, and before Kate had left her room, Flora was called upon to divide her attention between the two sick-rooms. She had become so essential to her sister's comfort, that there was no rest for her; late at night and early in the morning was she in requisition, but nothing seemed to weary her. One bright abiding sense of the love and goodness of her heavenly Father ran through all, enabling her to bear the anxiety attendant on her mother's low nervous disorder, and the fretful exactions of her invalid sister; she had a word for