labour of bringing it to me herself from the area on the basement floor, and up a whole flight of stairs, and laid it at my feet. I

took up the kitten in my hand, the cat still following me, made inquiry into the cause of its death, which I found, on summoning the servants, to have been an accident in which no one was much to blame; and the yearning mother having obtained her object, and gotten her master to enter into her cause and divide her sorrows with her, gradually took comfort and resumed her former station by my side.

DIALOGUE II.

Child. And now will my dear mother remember her promise?

Mother. Yes, I remember I promised if you were a good child, I would try and explain to you how Jesus Christ is the light of the soul.

Ch. Yes, mother, when I cannot see him.

M. Let us have first a little conversation about the soul, and also about the meaning of the word, light. Let me ask you one question; what is the soul? can you tell me ?

Ch. Yes, mother, it is that which lives when the body dies.

M. It is so-But can you see the soul? can you see your own soul or mine?

Ch. I see you, mother, and I hear you speak.

M. True, you see my face and you hear the sound of my voice; but you do not see my soul; it is within me, you only see the body in which it dwells.

Ch. But how is this-does not the soul see with the eyes and hear with the ears?

M. It does see and hear by the help of the eyes and the ears; but if the eyes are closed that they cannot see, and the ears hear no sound, the soul can still think. Now shut your eyes and I will be silent; then tell me if the soul is not still in action.

Ch. Yes, I am thinking of you and of what you have been saying.

M. And you can think of what took place yesterday and the day before and at other seasons-thus you perceive the soul can be in action when the body is quite still. It is so when you dream.-Are you not often very busy in your dreams, when you are fast asleep, and appear to me quite still?

Ch. Indeed I am very busy when I sleep, for I climb up hills, and run about the garden, and take such nice walks!

M. And yet I cannot see all this: it is the soul, or e mind, that is busy, and that is within you. Thus your soul converses

with mine each day, and mine with yours: and yet we cannot see each others soul, but only the body in which it is living.

Ch. All this is wonderful, mother.

M. All is wonderful that relates to our life here: but what I wish you to notice first is this; that the soul being within you, cannot be seen, although it is that which thinks and knows, and loves and hopes and fears, and is glad and sorry, and is conscious of doing right and of doing wrong, and is always in action.-It inhabits the body, it fills and moves and directs it, but yet we cannot see it. Do you understand me?

Ch. Yes, mother, I see quite well what

you mean.

M. The next thing I wish you to understand is this; that when we speak of the actions of the soul, as we cannot see it, we are obliged to use terms which describe the actions of the body; a way of speaking which is called a figure; by which those things we cannot see, are resembled to the things we can see. For instance, when we speak of the soul walking in the way of God's commandments, by the action of walking is signified, the soul going on, persevering, continuing to do as God has com. manded. Here the term "walking" is used as a figure; the action of the soul being

described by that of the body.-Do you perceive what I mean?

Ch. I think I do a little.-Perhaps I shall understand better, when I have thought more about it.

M. And perhaps we can make it a little plainer. Let us suppose a man travelling in a strange country: when the sun has gone down and the night has come on-if there should be no moon nor stars, what shall he do in the cloudy and dark night? if he goes forward he may fall into a pit or a bog; he does not know whether to turn to the right hand or to the left--some object is near, but he cannot tell whether it is a tree or a sign-post.

Ch. Poor man! I think he will be lost.

M. Then suppose a storm should come on, the strong wind, the beating hail, the snow; where shall he seek shelter in the dark?

Ch. O dear mother, it is better to travel in the day, when the sun shines!

M. It is better to travel in the day, whether the sun shines or not; for at least the traveller would know where to put his feet; he could find out the road and keep in the beaten path.

Ch. And if the storm came on, he could seek place of shelter.

M.

Then you perceive that light gives

him the knowledge of his own situation and of the objects around him.-By the light of the sun he discerns their form and size and colour and distance.

Ch. Yes, when it was dark, he could not see what was near him, nor could he tell what would become of him.

M. Then you will remember that light 'gives the knowledge of things that are around and without us--and when knowledge is imparted to the soul within us, it is also by a figure called " light."--Thus the soul in a state of ignorance, the soul that knows nothing of truth, is said to be in "darkness" -the terms "light and darkness" are here both used as figures.,

Ch. Thank you, dear mother: I begin to understand you quite well.

M. Then perhaps you know, who my traveller is.

Ch. No, mother, I do not: who is it?

M. Listen, my dear child, and attend to what I say. You are yourself a traveller.-Every human soul is a traveller. It journies on from childhood to youth, and from youth to manhood, and from manhood to old age, -and what shall direct this traveller on its way?

Ch. I know, mother-for you have told me before the Bible.

M. Therefore the Bible is called a "lamp