“Oh, certainly, sir, certainly, we all have that, I hope.”

“I hope so too; but I think you will act wisely in directing the proud spirit of Helen into an humbler channel, while you rouse and strengthen the modest and retiring one of Rose.”

“They are very, very different, sir,” said the old lady, looking particularly sagacious; “I don’t mean as to talent, for they are both very clever, nor as to goodness, for, thank God, they are both good; but Helen has such a noble spirit—­such an uplooking way with her.”

“We should all look up to God.” said the minister.

“Oh, of course we all do.”  Mrs. Myles paused.  “She has such a lady-like, independent way with her, I’m sure she’ll turn out something great, sir.  Well, there’s no harm in a little ambition now and then; we all, you know” want to be a little bit better off than we are.”

“We are too apt to indulge in a desire for what is beyond our reach,” said the minister, gravely; “if every one was to reside on the hills, who would cultivate the valleys?  We should not forget that godliness, with contentment, is great gain.  It would be far better, Mrs. Myles, if, instead of struggling to get out of our sphere, we laboured to do the best we could in it.”

“Ah, sir, and that’s true,” replied Mrs. Myles; “just what I say to Mrs. Jones, who will give bad sherry at her little tea-parties; good gooseberry, I say, is better than bad sherry.  Will you taste mine, sir?”

“No, thank you,” said the good man, who at the very moment was pondering over the art of self-deception, as practised by ourselves upon ourselves.  “No, thank you; but do, my dear madam, imbue those children with a contented spirit; there is nothing that keeps us so truly at peace with the world as contentment—­or with ourselves, for it teaches peace—­or with a Higher Power, for it is insulting to His wisdom and love to go on repining through this beautiful world, instead of enjoying what as Christians we can enjoy, and regarding without envy that which we have not.”

“Exactly so, good sir.  ‘Be content,’ I said to Helen only this very morning—­’be content, my dear, with your pink gingham; who knows but by and by you may have a silk dress for Sundays?’”

“Ah, my dear Mrs. Myles, you are sowing bad seed,” said the clergyman.

“What, sir, when I told her to be content with the little pink gingham?”

“No; but when you told her she might have a silk one hereafter.  Don’t you see, instead of uprooting you were fostering pride?—­instead of directing her ambition to a noble object, and thereby elevating her mind, you were lowering it by drawing it down to an inferior one?”

“I did not see it,” observed Mrs. Myles, simply; “but you know, sir, there’s no more harm in a silk than a cotton.”

“I must go now, my good lady,” said the minister; “only observing that there is no more harm in one than in the other, except when the desire to possess anything beyond our means leads to discontent, if not to more actively dangerous faults.  I must come and lecture the little maids myself.”