"She is dead, my dear; she died before we left England." "I understand what a charge is," said Ellen, after a little while, "but what is this charge the hymn speaks of? What charge have I to keep?" "The hymn goes on to tell you. The next line gives you part of it. 'A God to glorify.'" "To glorify!" said Ellen doubtfully. "Yes--that is to honour--to give Him all the honour that belongs to Him." "But can _I_ honour _Him_?" "Most certainly; either honour or dishonour; you cannot help doing one." "I!" said Ellen again. "Must not your behaviour speak either well or ill for the mother who has brought you up?" "Yes, I know that." "Very well; when a child of God lives as he ought to do, people cannot help having high and noble thoughts of that glorious One whom he serves, and of that perfect law he obeys. Little as they may love the ways of religion, in their own secret hearts they _cannot help_ confessing that there is a God, and that they ought to serve Him. But a worldling, and still more an unfaithful Christian, just helps people to forget there is such a Being, and makes them think either that religion is a sham, or that they may safely go on despising it. I have heard it said, Ellen, that Christians are the only Bible some people ever read; and it is true; all they know of religion is what they get from the lives of its professors; and oh, were the world but full of the right kind of example, the kingdom of darkness could not stand. 'Arise, shine!' is a word that every Christian ought to take home." "But how can I shine?" asked Ellen. "My dear Ellen!--in the faithful, patient, self-denying performance of every duty as it comes to hand--'whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.'" "It is very little that _I_ can do," said Ellen. "Perhaps more than you think, but never mind that. All are not great stars in the Church; you may be only a little rushlight. See you burn well!" "I remember," said Ellen, musing, "mamma once told me when I was going somewhere that people would think strangely of _her_ if I didn't behave well." "Certainly. Why, Ellen, I formed an opinion of her very soon after I saw you." "Did you?" said Ellen, with a wonderfully brightened face; "what was it? Was it good? ah, do tell me!" "I am not quite sure of the wisdom of that," said Alice, smiling; "you might take home the praise that is justly her right and not yours." "Oh no, indeed," said Ellen, "I had rather she should have it than I. Please tell me what you thought of her, dear Alice--I know it was good, at any rate."