CHAP.

I. Miss Preston’s last Sunday,

   II.  Lucy’s home,

  III.  More home scenes,

   IV.  Nelly’s Sunday evening,

    V. Strawberrying,

   VI.  A mission,

  VII.  Temptations,

 VIII.  Partings,

   IX.  Introductions,

    X. New experiences,

   XI.  A start in life,

  XII.  Ambition,

 XIII.  A friendship,

  XIV.  An unexpected recognition,

   XV.  The flower Fadeth,

  XVI.  Darkness and light,

 XVII.  Home again,

XVIII.  A farewell chapter,

LUCY RAYMOND.

I.

Miss Preston’s Last Sunday.

    “Tell me the old, old story
      Of unseen things above—­
      Of Jesus and His glory,
      Of Jesus and His love.”

The light of a lovely Sabbath afternoon in June lay on the rich green woodlands, still bright with the vivid green of early summer, and sparkled on the broad river, tossed by the breeze into a thousand ripples, that swept past the village of Ashleigh.  It would have been oppressively warm, but for the breeze which was swaying the long branches of the pine-trees around the little church, which from its elevation on the higher ground looked down upon the straggling clusters of white houses nestling in their orchards and gardens that sloped away below.  The same breeze, pleasantly laden with the mingled fragrance of the pines and of the newly-cut hay, fanned the faces of the children, who in pretty little groups—­the flickering shadows of the pines falling on their light, fluttering summer dresses—­were approaching the church, the grave demeanour of a few of the elder ones showing that their thoughts were already occupied by the pleasant exercises of the Sunday school.

Along a quiet, shady path, also leading to the church, a lady was slowly and thoughtfully walking, on whose countenance a slight shade of sadness, apparently, contended with happier thoughts.  It was Mary Preston’s last Sunday in her old home, previous to exchanging it for the new one to which she had been looking forward so long; and full as her heart was of thankfulness to God for the blessings He had bestowed, she could not take farewell of the Sunday school in which she had taught for several years, without some regret and many misgivings.  Where, indeed, is the earnest teacher, however faithful, who can lay down the self-imposed task without some such feelings?  Has the heart been in the work?  Have thought and earnestness entered into the weekly instruction?  Has a Christian example given force to the precepts inculcated?  Above all, has there been earnest, persevering prayer to the Lord of the harvest, in dependence on whom alone the joyful reaping time can be expected?