such exquisite bits by such ridiculous remarks?" groaned Mr. Harding. "I don't know. It seems to come natural. The old abbey was destroyed by fire, and Henry II ordered a finer one to replace it. It was finished a century after his death. This is the finer one. But Henry the Eighth played havoc with the monasteriesbore away all their precious things, broke their beautiful stained glass windows, melted their bells into cannon, and demolished their libraries. The abbots who dared to oppose him were put to death. The last abbot of Glastonbury was tried at Wells and hanged on that hill yonder. "Brrr!" Mr. Harding shuddered. "Wells is closely connected with Glastonbury," he said. "Its cathedral was built in 704, and yet, compared with Glastonbury, it is modern! We are on a very ancient spot indeed, my friend. I've been reading up on Wells, so I'll be your guide tomorrow." "Shall you expect a tip?" asked Miladi. "No, you can't afford it," answered Mr. Harding. "I know by looking at you, that I can't depend on any display of generosity. But the pleasure of helping to improve your neglected mind, will repay me. I delight in good deeds." "Wells," he continued, "takes its name from three springs of water which rise in the Bishop's Palace. The city has no history apart from its cathedral. And the glorious west front of that cathedral! When considered in detail,' one writer says, 'no work in England can be compared with this, and to find anything that presents an equally valuable study of sculpture we should have to go to the great French cathedrals of Ameins and Rheims. Yet no one knows the date of its erection, who designed it, what bishop carried out the plan, or what sculptor adorned. Nor can we explain the meaning of the scheme.' Another writer insists that Wells has no rival in the world. He says: The church itself cannot from mere lack of bulk hold its own against the soaring apse of Ameins, or against the windows ranging, tier above tier, in the mighty eastern gable of Ely. The cloister cannot measure itself with Gloucester or Salisbury; the chapter house lacks the soaring roofs of York and Lincoln; the palace itself finds its rival in the ruined pile of St. David's. The peculiar charm and glory of Wells lies in the union and harmonious grouping of all. It has preserved its ancient buildings and arrangements more perfectly than any other English cathedral; and it has been uninterruptedly in the possession of a chapter of secular canons.' "Bright boy," said Miladi. "How can you remember so much?" "It is born in me to be clever," said Mr. Harding complacently. "But I don't get puffed up over it. And you must not think that your pres ence bores me. I rather like ignorance by way of contrast." Miladi, who had dropped her head in affected humility, now raised it and exclaimed in grateful tones: "Thank you, thank you, exalted sir! May I kiss your sacred hand?” "My child," the young man rebuked, "you ask too much." "Oh, I beseech you," she implored. "Let me kiss your sacred hand." "I cannot," he replied firmly, putting both hands behind him. "But I'll tell you what I will do," he added, brightening up. "I'll let you have a go at my moustache." "You slangy creature!" gasped Miladi, shaking with laughter. "How do you expect me to keep my balance if you make such remarks? I shall go rolling off into the monks' churchyard." "Then all those holy skeletons will rise and flee in horror." "Don't you think we had better follow their example? These moonlit ruins have not a very subduing ef fect on you anyway, and that gate might be locked.” "Then come down, fair lady, from thy latticed bower," he said, holding out his hand. "Into my lettuced patch," said Miladi, alighting amongst the vegetables. "Do you think that is funny?" asked Mr. Harding. "No," said Gladys. "Then why did you say it?" com. "I thought you would think it was funny," she answered, with plimentary emphasis on the "you." "Don't you?" "No," he said. "Then why did you laugh?" "I thought it would please you," he retaliated. "How we try to please each other," remarked Miladi. "I'm sure we ought to be very happy together." "I absolutely decline to propose," announced Mr. Harding. "You are too brilliant. A man wants his wife to look up to him." "Suppose she is taller than he?” asked Gladys. "In that case she must look up all the harder," he answered. "From whom did you study phrenology?" "From Signor Bump. And I'm coming down with a bump, too," he added as he stumbled against a hill of dirt and stepped hurriedly into a hole. "Is that a bumptious remark?" asked Gladys. man. "I object," said the young "You seem to take delight in displaying high wit." "Something you are never guilty of," replied Miladi, sarcastically. "You know that everything I say is very fine," he answered. "Having your own word for it. how could I doubt it?" "He's going to lock the gate," whispered Miladi. "And we'll have to creep out through the keyhole. Can you do it with your best hat on?" "I was thinking of pulling up an onion and letting it lift me over," said Miladi. "What a dreadful girl you are to jest in the face of a serious matter -it really is serious." "Anyone would think so to catch a glimpse of your downcast countenance." "A strong man laughs at trouble," said Mr. Harding, smiling broader than ever to prove his statement. "But a girl ought to cry. Cry!" "Won't," said Miladi. "If you don't, I'll pinch you." Mr. Harding threatened." Miladi put out her tongue, and he nipped her finger. "Oh," she exclaimed. The man at the gate heard her and walked towards them. "Now you have done it!" said Mr. Harding. "But never mind. It is a lark. Creep behind these bushes and we'll dodge out of the gate before he sees us." "It's better than an elopement," whispered Miladi, following his instructions. In another moment they were running down the road as fast as they could go. "Wasn't that fun," exclaimed Mr. Harding. "It was like stealing apples when I was a boy." "Which wasn't so very long ago "I merely take my cue from you," Miladi said. "If you can be sensible, so can I." "Ye stars!" cried Mr. Harding excitedly. "Somebody's coming out "Let us see. So you never grow of the house! Get behind this tree." tired of your friends?" ABBOTT'S KITCHEN, GLASTONBURY ABBEY. "Never." "Am I your friend?" "Why, how do I know?" asked Miladi. "What do you call a friend?" he asked. "Oh, someone who finds out all your good points and loves you well enough to help you overcome your faults." "Could you be such a friend to me?" . be able to say that if you form a companionship with him?" "You think too much of little things, Miss Gladys." "No, I do not. You don't know how good it seems to meet a man like you. Don't spoil him. And pouring various dirty things into a nice, clean body and soiling a soul at the same time, isn't such a little thing either." "My dear child," said Mr. Harding, flushing, "your little noddle was not made to conjure up such an ollapodrida of queer ideas." "Rhetoric,' said Miladi calmly, "is the art of expressing thought in the best language possible. The only difficulty with that last remark of yours is that there wasn't much thought to it." They walked along in silence for a few moments, then Mr. Harding said, "Why did you broach such a subject, Miss Gladys?" "Out of friendship," answered Miladi. "You did not think it would begin on such a practical basis, did you? In fact, you did not think much about it. You are slightly annoyed and very much amused. Beyond that my request hasn't made the slightest impression." "But the idea of a girl's interfering with a man's friends! It's preposterous! How can you dare?" "I am not well-trained enough to know that it isn't proper. Fools always will rush in where angels fear to tread." "What a revelation you are! Whoever would have thought that underneath that gay and frivolous exterior there lurks a cankerworm that is slowly but surely eating its way into one's very heart," said Mr. Harding, quoting "Pinafore," with a sigh. "You don't like me nearly so well now as you did half an hour ago, do you?" asked Miladi mischievously. "I like you better." "Because I exhibit undisguised interest in you, and that pleases your vanity," said Miladi, making a queer little mouth at him. "You are undisguisably interesting yourself," replied the young man. "We were not talking about me," reminded Miladi. ous to you, you can't turn a cold shoulder on him." "If Mr. Carroll were a commoner instead of a society man, would you accept his courtesies as readily?" "Of course not." "Because his whole nature is antagonistic to yours. And yet you would bring yourself down to his level simply because you want to be considered somebody. It is a foolish ambition, prompted by a false pride. Why not be somebody in yourself and not shine by the reflected light of an insignificant orb? Besides, you won't stay in London long. and when you get home again your friends will be disappointed in you. I shan't force the subject, my dear boy. You have a brain. Use it to think with. Oh, look at that cluster of primroses! Would you be lieve that they could shine out so at night?" She made him a buttoniere, and chided him because he did not kiss her when she fastened it in. Then she broke off a willow and tickled his nose with it all the way home. When they reached the lodging house, he said, "Tell your sister I hope she won't forget that the train leaves at nine in the morning. If I were choosing a geological cabinet, I should put you in the chief place. You are the dearest little mass of conglomerate that I ever saw. Good night, my "But what is the use of discussing the other?" asked Mr. Harding "What would you have a fellow do, Miss Gladys? When a man is courte- friend." (To be Continued.) SONG. Kate Thomas. The white snow stretched deep for full many a mile, Ah, the robins may sing and the roses may blow, NATURE STUDIES FOR YOUNG MOTHERS. IN CHILDHOOD'S REALM. Then do not look disheartened But just endeavor day by day Will prove to be a plain. Sara Whalen. you There is one portion of nature which demands our attention quite as much as any other, and that is the In all of the world of children. study, which we present to them, we should not forget the children themselves. They are precious, above rubies, fresh from the hands of the Creator and given to parents by God, to be cared for, nurtured, educated, and trained to be returned to His kingdom. Every parent has a great responsibility which he cannot shirk, nor cast upon the shoulders of some one else. To be sure, it is no easy matter to take an unformed piece of humanity, mould and fashion it into beauty and grace, and it may seem very trying and discouraging ofttimes, while you are going through the process. But, look ahead, in imagination, to the improved mind, body and soul, and when that stage is reached, the time comes for the parents to reap the reward, to enjoy the products of labor well done. And the work must be well done, if the best results are to be obtained. To repeat, the rearing of a child to adult life is no easy task, and well may many parents become discouraged at the work which they realize has to be accomplished, but just so far as God has ordained you to parenthood, just so far has He imbued you with strength to follow out His purpose. The Lord is ever faithful, setting you a most excellent example to follow, namely, that faithful as He is to you, just so faithful should you be to one of His little ones. To begin with, then, is not God, our All-Father, most patient with us, and should we not try to be as patient, as our frail human nature will allow, with children? By that I mean, do not force them beyond their strength. Many, many parents, far too many, I fear, are very ambitious for their children, for their sons and daughters; and so they crowd them way. beyond where they should. Watch closely the inclinations of the little ones and direct those inFirst clinations, as far as possible. and foremost, there should be great care taken of the health. God has in most instances given the children to you with sound bodies, and He desires you to rear them to His honor and glory, so that they may worship Him, not as frail weaklings, but as strong, sturdy beings, with great strength, grace, and beauty. The body must be strong, if the mind is to be strong, and you are all familiar with the text, "The glory of God is intelligence." Now, how are you to obtain this for your children, if you allow them to squander their nerve power in over-study, over-work, or over-play? Study is good, work is good, play is good, but we may get too much of a good thing. Food is good, but we may get too much of it, and in consequence make ourselves sick. It is my firm belief that too much study for young or old is not good. There must be a limit to it; the amount which would injure one might not harm another, but parents should be on their guard against al |