Then the sun rises.

Soon it is high in the sky; and by noon it has got to its greatest height.

Then comes what we call the afternoon; and the sun gets lower till the evening, when it sets.

After sunset, there is another twilight as there was in the morning, something between light and darkness, till the light of the day is quite gone, and night is come instead.

Some persons have likened these times of the day to the parts of human life.

The morning is like youth, bright, fresh, and gay. There are bright colours round the sun; there is a fresh breeze playing in the leaves and flowers, and a dew upon the grass; the birds are singing gaily as they see the sun's light, and feel its warmth.

So youth is bright and new, looking on all things gladly; and whilst we are young, we may learn to use the light which God has given to our own souls, as well as that which we see with our bodily eyes.

Youth is fresh as well as bright; for baptism is like the morning dew, and the grace of God is like the early breeze. Sprinkled with pure water, and refreshed by the Spirit of the Lord, we may go forward; and youth is the time in which progress is easily made. Youth is gay as well as fresh; for the young are light-hearted, and the innocent are gay and merry as the lark. The songs of the birds at sunrise are like the merry spirits of youth, and remind the young that they ought to praise God.

After the morning is past comes the noontide, and this is likened to the middle part of life, when there is more work to be done, when there are more cares and troubles. People may have to walk on in their journey of life among many vexations and difficulties. And so in the hot noonday sun, the dust grows troublesome, and the traveller becomes weary; but let the traveller go steadily on, and his troubles will come to an end, and he will reach his place of rest.

Evening is the time of rest. The cares of the day are ending; the breeze is fresh again; the light of the setting sun is beautiful; and bright clouds often gather round it.

If the duties of life have been performed faithfully, the

end of life will bring peace and hope. The setting sun is an emblem of the Christian's hope of resurrection.

Night is the time for sleep; and death is the Christian's sleep: it is the true Christian's happy and peaceful sleep, from which he will arise to glory.

The day is divided into hours. We divide every day into twenty-four hours; that is, twenty-four hours from the sun's rising to its rising again. In the summer there are more hours of light than hours of darkness. In the winter there are more hours of darkness, and fewer of light. You know that we count twelve hours, and then the same number over again, in every twenty-four.

The Jews reckoned twelve hours twice over as we do; but they did not begin to reckon at the same hour; so that our six o'clock in the morning was called by them the first hour; our nine o'clock was their third; our noon was their sixth; our three in the afternoon their ninth; and so on. You may remember this when you find the hour of the day mentioned in the New Testament; as when we read of the eleventh hour, it means our five o'clock in the afternoon.

The Jews divided the night into four watches.

The first watch, from sunset to the third hour of the night.

The second, or middle watch, from the third hour to the sixth.

The third watch, or cock-crowing, from the sixth to the ninth.

The fourth, or morning-watch, from the ninth hour to sunrise.

These watches are referred to in the Gospels.

The early Christians used to divide their day into seven parts, and to perform acts of worship (that is, to have services) at each of those times.

First, the dawn.

Second, the sunrise.

Third, the third hour-or our nine in the morning.
Fourth, the noon.

Fifth, the ninth hour-our three in the afternoon.

Sixth, the sunset, or vesper-that is, evening-service. Seventh, the compline-that is, the ending, or close of the day.

The midnight was sometimes reckoned as an eighth hour for service.

When you see in a book the letters A.M., it means the hours before noon. P.M. means those after noon.

MR. and MRS. MORTON had been long talking of Olive on that very evening. They saw that much time might be lost in getting over her shyness. Some of the little children of the hamlets had already begun to return Mr. Morton's smiles and his wife's kind looks, and then to say more than "yes" and "no." The smallest ones had begun to talk about their play, and to tell about their little matters, when Mr. and Mrs. Morton met them in their walks. But at Olive's age all this did not come so readily; and they agreed that Mrs. Payne might perhaps more easily gain Olive's confidence, and give her instruction. They knew Mrs. Payne would give them an exact account of what she was doing with her.

Mrs. Morton accordingly called again at the cottage two days afterwards. Olive had been wondering much when she should see her again. She had even settled in her mind what she should say the next time to the lady-she did not know why she should not talk to her as well as the children. She

tried to fancy what Mrs. Morton would ask her, and how she should answer; and what Mrs. Morton would think of her then,

But so it was, that when one of the children rushed into the cottage, crying out, "That lady is coming!" Olive rose hastily from the stool where she sat mending a stocking, and stole out at the back-door, as fast as her lameness would suffer her. She knew she was dirty and untidy, and could not make excuses, as a girl with a readier tongue might have done. All she had to say went out of her mind. She could not bear to make a poor appearance before a person she already looked up to so much.

In a minute or two she gained courage to approach the door, and the next minute she crept into the room. Her aunt was listening with more civility than usual; but Olive did not know that this was because Mrs. Morton had been promising to send old Isaac some flannel for a waistcoat, and Molly thought some such thing might come to her or her children next. But when Olive came in, Mrs. Morton was talking of the advantage it would be to her to go to Mrs. Payne in the evening to be taught, when she could be spared.

The lady nodded kindly in return for her curtsey; and the colour came into the poor girl's pale cheeks when she heard her aunt agree to what was said. She promised Olive should go two or three times in the week, according as she could spare her. "She did not know if she could do it in bad weather, she was so ill off for shoes. Indeed they all were. She could not send any of them to church in the winter, for their chilblains. They had no friends to help them in that out-of-the-way place."

So she was running on, when Mrs. Morton observed, that children often get worse chilblains by dabbling about in the puddles near home, than in going steadily along the path to church; and that if they all behaved well and did their best, she hoped something might be done about shoes. "If I find

Olive comes regularly, and if we are satisfied with her, I will promise her a pair of shoes against winter."

Molly immediately began repeating her thanks in abundance of words. "They had never had such a friend before. Mrs. Morton's coming there would be a blessing to them all. Other gentlefolks never give a thought to poor people ;" and so on. But Mrs. Morton made no answer to this. She looked with a smile of kindness at Olive's flushed cheek, and at the tears which were coming into her eyes.

"Mrs. Payne will be very kind to you, and tell me how you get on; and by and by we shall be better acquainted, Olive. Go to her on Friday evening, if you can be spared; and you can take your stockings with you to darn.”

Olive opened the door, and curtsied several times. She then sat down again to her work, full of thought and restless, yet happy at the prospect before her. She was a little afraid of Mrs. Payne; but she thought she should soon get over that. She longed to gain the favour of Mrs. Morton, and she hoped to overcome her shyness in time; and that her intercourse with Mrs. Payne would, in some way, help her to do so.

On Friday evening she set out to Mrs. Payne's cottage, which was not far distant. Olive could not feel the pleasure of a walk as other girls of her age might do, slowly as she was forced to creep along; but there was always a feeling of relief in getting away from the noise and unpleasant language too often heard in the cottage. The only time, indeed, when it was quiet, was when Molly was out after wood, the children on the green, and the old man dozing by the fire. But when, as now, Olive got out on the heath, and could look at the bright green hollies, and the old oak-trees rising above them, she felt as if among kind friends; the sight of these things cheered her she could not tell why.

As she opened Mrs. Payne's door, she was struck with the neatness and comfort of the little room. It