No, it is never right to keep a wrong promise. That would be doing two wrong things instead of one. Herod had no business to take such an oath. How could he know what this artful dancer might ask? No one may make a promise about which one cannot know. Don’t ever do such a thing. “If you have done it?” Break it. Break it, and repent over your rashness. Beware of the state of your mind when you make a pledge. See that you know what you are about. Perhaps Herod would never have taken such an awful oath had he not been intoxicated with wine and this dancing girl. “When wine is in wit is out.” Many a person has lost his reason and committed some great crime by being in such society. Wine and dancing never helped any one heavenward. Take care! L. * * * * * MANY blessings will occur to him who is in search of them. Let us dwell lovingly and gratefully upon these; let us weigh and consider how to make the most of them, by neglecting no opportunity and shutting out nothing from our life that can brighten and invigorate it. ANGIE’S CROSS.—II. (_Character Studies._) I WAS sorry for the mother. I heard her gentle, troubled voice in the hall, trying to make explanations. “Not going!” was the startled response of the girls; “what is the matter? O, dear me! what shall we do without her? Celia Lewis might sing the part if she had only known; but she thought she wouldn’t be needed, and she isn’t feeling very well, so she didn’t come out. Dear Mrs. Conran, cannot you coax Angie to come? I am afraid we shall have to give up the anthem altogether if you don’t. Harold says he cannot sing it without having one rehearsal.” “I am very sorry,” said gentle Mrs. Conran, “but I am afraid it is quite out of the question, Angie is so sure she cannot go to-night. Perhaps you can arrange a rehearsal early in the morning?” “No, ma’am, we can’t do that, because the Bible classes occupy the room, you know, until the last minute. O, dear! how I wish we had known it before. I don’t know what we shall do. Is Angie feeling very ill, Mrs. Conran?” “N-o,” said the mother hesitatingly, and I knew that her face flushed to her temples; “she isn’t sick, but she is very much—out of sorts. I regret it exceedingly, but you know how Angie is. When she once settles in her own mind that she can’t do a thing it doesn’t seem possible for her to get the consent of her will to do it.” “Well,” they said, turning away, “it seems too bad, when Dr. Brand asked for that particular anthem, and Angie is the only one who has sung it; but I suppose we shall manage some way. Good-evening.”