With a hearty farewell on both sides, Walter and his companions remounted their horses, and rode slowly away, full of happy thoughts: Walter very happy, because he had been enabled to do what his conscience had bidden him; Amos quite as happy, because the brother he loved so dearly had behaved so nobly; and Julia calmly happy, because she felt that bright sunshine had poured through a dark cloud which had brooded for a while sadly over her spirit. And there was something yet more stirring in her heart in consequence of all that she had seen and heard,--it was a rising desire to be doing some real good to others, and to be doing this at the cost of personal sacrifice and self-denial. Ah, what a new and strange desire was this in one who had, till lately, allowed the idol of self to occupy the shrine of her heart. To be thinking of others, to be steadily keeping the good of others in view, to put self-pleasing in the background, or to find it in pleasing others, and that, too, from love to one who for her sake pleased not Himself,--this was something wondrous indeed to her, and yet how full of real and heavenly brightness when it had truly found an entrance into her soul! But how and where was she to begin? She had a little bundle of tracts in her hand; should she begin at once with these? Of all things which she once would have shrunk from, nothing would have then been more repulsive than the office of a distributer of tracts. Some years before, when once asked by a pious friend of her aunt if she would like a few tracts to give away as she might have opportunity, her reply had been, "She had rather not, for she believed that tracts were vulgar, canting things, commonly given by hypocrites to their neighbours when they wanted to deceive them under a cloak of affected godliness." She had been rather proud of this reply, which certainly for the time had the effect of completely shutting up the good lady who had recommended the tracts to her notice. But now she felt very differently, and looked at the little bundle in her hand, thinking how she might use it to the best advantage. Not that she felt naturally drawn to the work; it would require a considerable effort on her part to bring herself to offer a tract to a stranger, and a far greater effort to accompany the offer with a word or two from herself; but she now believed that she _ought_ to make the effort, and that word "ought," the idea of "duty" which it kept before her, was beginning to exercise a constraining force hitherto unknown to her. And there was a special advantage in the tract. Just the giving of it without comment would be a good preparation for more close and personal work in the loving Master's service. So, grasping the papers with a trembling hand, she began to look out for an opportunity of parting with some of them, and she had not long to wait. When the little party turned away from the spot where the preaching had