interesting bits of information relative to her work. In spite of the absence of that air of extreme squalor and wretchedness which is often so marked a feature in the dwellings of our poor in populous towns, there yet is as great, perhaps greater, poverty and misery to be found in Belleville. The necessaries of life are dearer there, whilst our system of parish relief does not exist; and many a case of sore distress and utter destitution must have come under Miss de Broen's eye, and touched her kind heart. Much need must she have of faith and courage to support her in her great undertaking.

After a time we rose to go over the house, our guide being a lady who, for the last seven years, has been helping Miss de Broen in this her labour of love. The rooms were all most airy and cheerful, whilst from a balcony on one of the upper storeys we had a capital bird's-eye view of Paris, which lay stretched out at our feet. We could distinguish the familiar dome of Les Invalides, the towers of Notre Dame and other churches, the heights of Montemartre, and many prominent places besides.

A dozen or more girls are taken in to be trained as servants, the younger ones going to school by day and the elder ones taking it in turn to cook and wash and do the housework, etc., thus learning all the different departments of work. They looked particularly clean and neat and well cared for. There is no difficulty about finding them places when they are ready for them, for doubtless many an English lady is glad enough to get a young French bonne, fresh from Miss de Broen's training to wait upon her children.

A few doors off is the Mission Room, a goodsized iron building, brought out from England. Good use is made of it, not only for services and Bible classes, Sunday schools and night schools, but every day in the week, except Wednesday and Saturday, for the purposes of the Medical Mission. This is a most interesting and important branch of Miss de Broen's work, which, we might mention by the way, is entirely amongst the French, as Miss Leigh's is amongst the English, of Paris.

The Medical Mission opens at ten a.m. with a service of half an hour; then the doctor goes into his little consulting room and the patients come to him one by one, passing on, after their interview with him, into the dispensary, where two qualified ladies are in attendance the whole time to make up the medicines. Whilst the patients are waiting for their turn to go in to the doctor, the various helpers connected with the Mission have abundance of opportunities for speaking to one and another individually, for the work is often not over before five o'clock in the afternoon. Half an hour is taken for luncheon in the middle of the day, and then the workers return to their posts again. Often there are as many as 150 patients a day, and 16,000 or 17,000 in the course of a year. Many come from all parts, even from as far as Versailles. The doctor, who is an earnest Christian man, works hard, for besides all this he visits in their own homes those

who become too ill to attend the Mission. Little wonder that at length he was so overworked that he was obliged this summer to go away for a sixweeks' holiday, three weeks being his usual time for relaxation. It is impossible to calculate the good that may be and is done by means of this Mission; the last day alone will reveal what its fruits have been, and how many a golden sheaf has been gathered into the heavenly garner by these patient toilers in this part of the great harvest field. Many who have come seeking healing for their bodies have there been led to see their deeper need of healing for their souls, and have been pointed to the Great Physician, whom they have found to be both able and willing to meet all their needs.

During last winter, which was such a terribly severe one in Paris, Miss de Broen established a sewing-class for women twice a week, for the sake of helping them. They were paid fifty centimes for the afternoon. They had made the patchwork quilts which we saw on the girls' beds, and very pretty they were ; but the preparing the work for them must involve a good deal of labour.

At the night school, which is held at the Mission Room, they have classes, among others, for young men who are desirous of learning English; and many of them are already quite at home in the language. A part of the time is given to Bible reading.

The

Wishing very much to attend one of the week-day services at the Mission Room, we found our way thither on Thursday evening, at eight o'clock. room was well filled with a most attentive audience; men and women in their every-day working clothes listening with marked interest to the address delivered by one of the evangelists, of whom there are three regularly employed. There is much more refinement in appearance and manner in the lower orders in France than in England, and many of the men looked very superior, whilst the spotless white caps of the women were refreshing to the eye, contrasted with the miserable attempts at finery we often meet with among our poor. It was really a delightful gathering, so much heartiness and earnestness all throughout; many an uplifted face telling by the intentness of its look how eagerly the words of life were being drunk in, whilst others wore a restful expression which seemed to speak of their having found that which perhaps they had long been seeking, even the "peace of God, which passeth all understanding."

Many an interesting case of change of heart and life has come under the notice of these workers at Belleville. One man, for instance, who was a dreadful drunkard, began to attend the Mission Room; his heart became touched, and the result is that he has entirely left off drink, whilst a visitor who went in to see them the other day found him and his wife sitting happily working at their trade, their little girl meantime reading the Bible aloud to them. How great the contrast from former days! Where all was misery and wretchedness, now all is happiness and harmony. But doubtless they have had, like

others who have turned their feet into the narrow way, to bear reproach and contempt from their neighbours, and to hear the word "Jesuit" applied to them, that being just now the bitterest term of scorn and hatred in vogue. It is bestowed equally upon the priests, too, who are as a body disliked and held 1 in contempt. Thus there is no opposition from them to encounter, as there would be in Ireland for instance. The great stumbling-block is infidelity, which exists to a frightful extent.

Miss de Broen is often in want of helpers, especially during the summer months, when the regular workers need rest and refreshment. Are there not many, leading a life of comparative ease, who might well give themselves for a few months, or even a shorter space of time, to filling up some of these gaps? All kinds of talents can be brought into use, for there is work of all sorts to be done, and something can be found for everybody; so none need hang back on that score.

To all who have the Master's cause at heart, and love to link themselves in with His workers, scattering broadcast the good seed, not only in their own land, but in others, where the labourers are few, to such we say, If you have the opportunity, go and lend a helping hand to Miss de Broen in her great and increasing, her most blessed work at Belleville.

Visitors wishing to spend any time there, can board with a Mr. and Mrs. Webber, 25, Rue Clavel (recommended by Miss de Broen). It is close to the

Mission Room, so that they are quite on the spot; whilst either by omnibus or tram they can easily make their way to any other part of Paris. A few minutes' walk from Rue Clavel is the "Buttes Chaumont," a sort of people's park, laid out with much taste, affording a charming place for a shady stroll in summer, whilst there are numberless seats under the trees, and pretty views of Paris lying below.

Many may be unable to give personal help to this work, but most may give pecuniary aid, either more or less. Oh, that all would give of "such things as they have," either the service of their hands or a portion of their gold and silver, to support and advance this most interesting cause! For it needs continual support. It cannot be carried on without funds, the need for which must increase with the growth of the work. Will not all who read this paper come forward and strengthen Miss de Broen's hands by helping as much as they can? We know that in God's sight the value of a gift is just according to the relation it bears to the store from which it is taken; therefore, if the store with which He has entrusted you be small, be sure your offering, though small intrinsically, will be precious in His sight. On the other hand, if your store be large, bring in joyfully your larger gift, and lay it upon His altar, taking care that His eye, looking down upon it, shall see it does bear some proportion to the liberality of His gifts to you. Any offers of help for the Belleville Mission would be gladly received and forwarded to Miss de Broen by Miss Silke, Worthing.

BERTIE

AND I.

66 BY THE AUTHOR OF

CHAPTER XV.-SELF-RENUNCIATION.

He answered yes, and that there was nothing I could do, wished me good-bye formally enough, and

went.

And when the sound of his footsteps had died away I laid my head down on the table and wept.

Many months had gone by, dispelling all my illusions, for it would be nonsense to say that I had entertained none. It was a dreary January afternoon, and, though there had been no rain, the sky was heavy and murky, and the air raw and piercing.

I sat up presently, and listened to the moaning wind as it swept round the house-listened and thought; until at length this question crept into my mind: Did not the fault of the sadness of my life lie, after all, in myself? That is, if I chose to be happy, had I not enough to make me so?

I had not my husband's love! Well, I had known before I married that I should not have it.

I missed my darling Bertie every day of my lifenay, every hour. I missed her dear voice indoors, and her little hand on my arm when I went out. I had long ago begged and entreated her to make her

cognised many a crude sentence of my own that had been polished into beauty. As Bertie had surmised would be the case, what we had written had been so cut up, so transposed, and, for the most part, wholly transformed, that it was by no means readily recognisable; and any claim which Bertie and I might have made to authorship on the strength of our respective contributions to the story would have been a shadow indeed.

Moreover, the very leading idea of the book was changed. It had been Hope, now it was Self-renunciation.

But I was delighted with it: in my present mood it was just what I needed.

The light was fading; I was still engrossed. The servant brought in tea; I drank a cup, and read on, feeling, little by little, more hopeful than I had done for months. Rapidly I went on, and rapidly went the time also.

I had reached the last chapter-the last page. Tomorrow I would begin again, and read slowly and carefully. Now I laid the book aside, and wrote a short letter of congratulation and thanks to Mr. Saunderson. He had left Melton some time before. But I had known that the book was likely to arrive, and that he had sold the copyright for a small sum, which had been given to a Melton charity.

I finished the letter, and despatched it, and then sat musing once more.

Mr. Saunderson's book was but the outcome of the change which had taken place in his own inner life; for that such a change had taken place it was easy for those who knew him to discover. He had made a great mistake in life; in his book he freely owned it. He had wasted year after year in dreaming of fame, wealth, honours, and, in his own way, in diligently seeking for them; and in the absorption of the search he had missed those sweet ties and living interests which are worth-ah, how much more! And now, in middle life, he stood alone. So we all, he affirmed, in a greater or less degree, wasted our precious years in following delusive visions-mere will-o'-the-wisps-and if one did now and then lay his hand upon a reality, what, after all, did it profit him? So little, that, after a brief examination of the long-coveted treasure, he started up once more, crying

On again! the virtue lies

In the struggle, not the prize.

Moreover, he continued, a man of this sort is always in danger of forgetting that this life is not all; that it is but the beginning of things, and that while we may not "fly to the end without regarding the beginning," yet the end should order and regulate and govern the beginning, and we should keep it always in view, seeing that we live for it, and not for the beginning.

Carrying on his story, Mr. Saunderson presently brought in religion, and religion not of the head but of the heart; showing also that true happiness proceeds from the principle of self-renunciation; that it is he

who is willing to lose his life (for the Lord's sake), who finds it; and that "with self-renunciation life begins;" that the moment we are willing to give up our own ways, and our own wishes and wills, in order to serve more purely and truly for love the Lord who bought us, that moment we take up true happiness; also that this renunciation is to be made in the spirit and in the heart, rather than in the life ; that we need not to go out of our way to make it; that, as a rule

The daily round, the common task,
Will furnish all we ought to ask.

And further, that if, like the Pharisees of old, we do our good deeds so as to be seen of men, and allow those around us to suppose, even for an instant, that our acts proceed not from a desire to benefit them, but simply from attention to our own eternal interests, then the subtle aroma of love and beauty which surrounded our work in the bud has passed away, and the flower is worthless. We can do no more good all our efforts, and not unnaturally, are spurned; for instead of self-renunciation, we have shown a pride, arrogance, and assumption, that our fellows will never tolerate, as well as a colder and more deeply-rooted selfishness than before.

:

"Yes," I murmured to myself at length. "I see it all. Wonderful indeed is the innate selfishness that pervades all we do, following us everywhere, defeating its own end, so that hatred of self cannot do self a thousandth part of the harm that love of self can do. Curious paradox. . . . As I look back I see that all my life I have been striving for self, even though I did not know it. And what is the result? When I wrote the sketch of which Mr. Saunderson has made such good use I was unhappy-because I wanted something for myself which I could not get. I am unhappy still, for still I want something for myself which I cannot get. Always craving-never satisfied. And we never can be satisfied while we work for self-the hardest most exacting master that man or woman ever had. Well," I concluded, "I will strive to profit by the lesson. I will at least aim, please God, to renounce self from to-day."

Mr. Saunderson had once believed-or, at any rate, he had appeared to believe-that that little book, in a sense a joint production, might bring such a sum as should seem to us-poor as we all three were then -a fortune. I remembered now with a smile many things that Bertie and I had said on the subject, and then from my heart rose an earnest thanksgiving. No fortune, in money, could ever have brought me the peace and comfort and renewed hope that the book itself had brought me.

And now I began to wonder what Bertie thought of it, for of course she must have also received a copy. Late though it was, I would go and see.

Taking a servant with me, I went. I had long grown accustomed to attendance now, and to the comforts and luxuries and leisure of wealth; but I would willingly have given up all for love any day.

Yes, my darling Bertie, in her lonely lodging, with the undying memory of her sad loss weighing down her young spirit night and day, was happier than I, for she had truest, dearest love to look back upon.

She was well enough off now; a good and reliable earnest of the independence for which she had once so longed had come to her; but how coldly and calmly she received it, and she worked as hard and as constantly as in our poorest days-nay, harder; and I greatly feared that she was overtasking her strength. She could afford to dress as she pleased now, in reason; and how did she dress? Always in soft clinging robes of deep black, closely fitting her little slender figure, with no ribbons or trimming to break their line.

I found her intently studying some new books on art. She had received a copy of Mr. Saunderson's book; and, like me, she had already run through it, intending to begin it again on the day following, and to read it carefully. Just so had we been used to do together in old times when we had received a new book.

'Very much indeed," she answered, yet not in the bright enthusiastic way she would once have spoken. "It has helped me so much, Marian. I feel so much happier since I read it. I shall work on as before; I shall love work more than ever; but I shall try to leave results to God from to-night. Results do not necessarily belong to the work, or, perhaps, I should say to the worker, and he need not concern himself about them at all. They are God's concern."

Very reverently and gently she spoke; and then she added, "And I shall not trouble myself any more about independence, Marian. God can give me that any day, if He pleases, and He will give it when He sees that it is good for me to have it."

"But there can be no possible harm in working for independence, dear Bertie."

"Certainly not; but you see I have just been reading Mr. Saunderson's book, and it has made me wish to set myself a higher standard. I wish to work for my work's sake now, and not for myself and for money."

"But you will work for money, darling?"

I shall take what I earn, of course, and I shall lay by what I can; but earning and saving will not be my aim any more."

I watched her dear face while she spoke. She looked far older than her years; her fair beauty was fading, ah, how early! I could have wept as I looked at her.

And now she drew up a hassock, and seated herself at my feet as she had been used to do.

"Where is that picture, Marian dear, that you put away so long ago? I want it now. I feel that I should like to finish it. It is cowardly to leave it. And I shall send it for exhibition as I said I would."

"I have it at home, darling,” I answered, as I bent to kiss her; "but I will take care that it is sent to you early in the morning."

"Thank you, dear sister." And she laid her head on my knee, and was silent for a long time.

"God is good,” she murmured again presently. "Nothing is too trifling for Him to notice. He sent me that book; and I do so love it: and I will really try to give up self from to-day. It is such an easy and beautiful way to be happy; I wonder that I never tried it before. .. Yes, 'green leaves will come again.' Sorrow cannot always last. . . I have been saying ever so long, 'If I could only do something for my dear Frank-something especially for him-that he perhaps would have given me to do for him, if he had known.' But how ungrateful! Am I so eager to work for my Frank-and not for the good God, who gave him to me in love, and who took him away in love also? .. But now, I will work, because it is right to work; and I will live to make as many people happy as I can. You know what you said once about a woman's work, Marian?"

I remembered, and I also felt rebuked; and said so.

'Ah, dear Bertie, like many others, I preached what I have not practised, I am afraid. My life, too, has been all wrong, judged by the standard of selfrenunciation—all wrong; my marriage perhaps as wrong as anything. And yet I don't know. But, at any rate, with you, dear, I pray that I may begin afresh from this evening."

"Yes," she rejoined eagerly. "We will begin again together. And, Marian, you know that we chose independence as our motto long ago. You have no need of such a motto now. Let us choose instead self-renunciation."

"I am quite willing, dear Bertie." Softly she went on

66

If we had chosen it in the first place, instead of independence, and had lived up to it, we should have been happier women to-night than we are. . . And yet, after all, Marian, we have only been doing what every one does. Such a pity, it seems! We think we know best. We won't listen to the messages and loving warnings which God our Father sends to us in so many thousand ways. We rush blindly on. And soon we find that we have made a mistake; and then, as well as we can, in tears and pain, we retrace our steps. But before very long we are going wrong again in another direction! And so we keep on, until by the time we are quite oldif some worse mistake than all has not killed us long before that we have learned to live! And if we might begin at the beginning, and go all over it again, what a lovely life we might, perhaps, lead!" "But who would wish to go all over it again, Bertie?"

"No one, I suppose."

"But never mind, darling," I said. "It is here we learn to live, as you say. But there we shall live. Our mistakes but educate us-especially if