"I do not like to see people in distress about spoiling their clothes, if it is right for them to be exposed to the risk of getting wet," said Mrs. Davis; "and if we cannot afford to purchase for all kinds of weather, it is wisest to get such as will not be greatly injured by any weather." "Very true; but you see, Mrs. Davis, ours is a dangerous kind of business for economy of that sort. We are engaged in making pretty things, and setting people off to the best advantage; and it is very natural to like to do the same for ourselves when we get an opportunity. But I do confess that often when we have been tempted to spend our money on what is elegant, we are obliged afterward to feel the want of what is useful." "You speak very candidly," said Mrs. Davis, smiling kindly; "will you forgive me for asking why the good sense, or the experience which has taught you that you are liable to such temptation, does not carry you one step further, and cause you to resist it?" "Ah, that is just what I should like to know," said Jane. "Here is your good Mary who never yields to such temptations, nor covets any of the beautiful things we make up, though they would look as well upon her as on the people who are to wear them. What is the reason of it? I hate a weak mind that has always to be troubled with repentance after the mischief is done." "Is not the great safeguard against that unhappy consequence found in acting always from steady principle, instead of being led by changeable feelings?" asked Mrs. Davis. "I dare say it is. And Mary has a steady principle, then." "O do not quote me, Jane," interrupted Mary. "You do not know how it would have been with me if I had not a mother, a dear Christian mother," she added affectionately. "And a wiser and higher guide in the counsel and control of the Spirit of God," said Mrs. Davis. "Dear, dear, how calmly you speak of such awful things!" said Jane, somewhat alarmed, for she remembered her sister's warning about "a lecture," and thought it must be coming now. "And why should we not speak calmly, and thankfully too, of truths that are intended to give peace to our hearts, and consistency to our conduct? You wished to know what would enable any one to resist temptation, did you not, my dear?" "Yes, but—but I did not know that it belonged to religion; I thought you said something about principle." "So I did. I have no idea of any real, strong, trustworthy principle which does not spring from true religion. I do not mean the dull, formal, heartless profession which some are satisfied to call religion; but I mean the sweet and happy pleasure of acting out in all we do the love with which a living faith in the work and mercy of a most precious Saviour fills our hearts. But I see Mary has made tea, and by and by, if you please, you shall help us to read an interesting account of one who was ruled by this principle, and it will show my meaning better than my own words can do it."