"Yes, Madeline, here at home if she wishes to; but dancing-schools and children's balls, and all these foolish displays, I entirely discourage." "What will you do, aunt, when Lucy is a grown-up lady?" "I am trying all that I can to give Lucy a strictly religious education, and, by the blessing of God, I expect that she will be a Christian; that will regulate all the rest, Madeline. Lucy will not then need the vain amusements of the world to make her happy--when the butterfly bursts its shell, it feeds no more upon the food which satisfied the grub, but honeyed sweets alone suits its new nature; so with the child of God, Maddy, who can say, "Let worldly minds the world pursue, It has no charms for me; Once I admired its follies too, But grace has set me free." "Well, dear aunt, if all pious people were just like you, I think that everybody would want to be Christians; but there was Miss Molly Tibbs, with a face as long as my arm, and a mouth drawn up like a persimmon, she thought it was a sin to laugh, and that pink was a wicked color; just think of that, Aunt Clara, the sweet color of the lovely rose wicked! Did you ever hear such stuff? But wasn't she a vixen! scolding from morning till night--tormenting her little brothers and sisters, and making everybody unhappy around her." "Poor lady! What a pity that she had not studied the character of our blessed Master, whose whole errand upon the earth was to make men happy." On the first Sunday after her arrival she accompanied Aunt Clara and Lucy to church. It was a solemn service, and the minister was an earnest, faithful preacher of the simple gospel. When the sweet organ rolled through the church with its swell of heart-stirring music, Madeline was carried away, for she was not accustomed to the organ in their humble village church. "Was not that lovely music, Aunt Clara?" asked the child; "it is so different from our country choir. I could listen all day to music like that; and the voices, Oh! how that lady's sounded; it seemed to ring, Aunt Clara, just like a sweet bell, and then it rolled up and up, and I could follow it all round the roof--it seemed to carry us right up to Heaven." Sunday was a happy day at Aunt Clara's. She wore her brightest smile on that blessed day, and everything around her household breathed of the sweet calm within that holy bosom. In the corner of the parlor stood a harp closely covered. Madeline had often wondered who played upon the instrument, and at last ventured to ask Aunt Clara. "I was very fond of the instrument, Madeline, and used to play upon it in the happy days when my husband and children were with me; but since then I have never touched it." "Will you not let me hear some of its sweet strains, Aunt Clara? I never heard the harp," asked Madeline. "It is out of tune, Maddy; but to-morrow I will send for the tuner, and you shall be gratified."