"There is but one answer to that question. The All-wise

knoweth best.

"Oh never, never, let me raise

This feeble will of mine,

To oppose the might of Him who rules

All things with power divine!'"

"Therefore," said Cineas, "if you accept that solemn prayer from Eschylus you will take still more readily that which Socrates quotes. It is the truest and the best. for us. You remember it: Great God! Give us the good things that are necessary for us, whether we ask them or not; and keep evil things from us even when we ask them from thee!""

"But, Cineas, are there no difficulties? Can all come to God? Is there no preparation? Will he hear all men indiscriminately?"

"I suppose," said Cineas, thoughtfully, "that there must be preparation."

"Without doubt; but of what kind?"

"Deep meditation within the soul, and profound abstraction for the time from all external things, together with the deepest reverence and the most humble submission."

"Yes," answered Helena; "and you know what Socrates says here, since you refer to him so much, for he says that the purification of the soul is this, - to accustom itself to retire and shut itself up, renouncing all commerce with the body as much as possible, and to live by itself without being chained to the body. Now, for Socrates and Plato, and the grave Theophilus, this was practicable. If I were like you, dearest Cineas, it might be possible. If I were a great philosopher, like Seneca, this would be the way for me to care for my soul, so as to keep it pure before God. But I am a weak woman, in the midst of maternal cares. Το separate myself from these cares, and live a life of meditative philosophy, would be wrong wrong to my childwrong to my husband. Don't you see the painful dilemma in which I am placed?"

"I see it," answered Cineas; "but you can do this partially, at least, so as to prevent them from engrossing all your thoughts. 'The soul first of all, then all other things.' So said The Master.'

for

6

"Ah! you don't understand my life.

you, but not for me.

a Roman matron

All this is possible

Philosophical abstraction for me

impossible."

"Not quite that," said Cineas. “A virtuous life, like yours, passed in the performance of the best and highest duties to all around, is of itself a life-long purification of the soul."

"I try to do my best," said Helena, meekly. "And yet I find that in my intense love for my child and husband I lose all thoughts of the Deity. He remains to me a majestic vision, a sublime sentiment. How can I draw near? Oh that I could find a way to him! I think life would be doubly sweet if I could find a way of communion between him and my poor self. I adore the Deity, but fear him. I know not how to address him, or even by what name."

She paused for a moment, and then continued, in a sweet, low chant, murmuring words from those majestic choruses which were so dear to her:

"O Zeus!-whoever he may be

If to be thus invoked be pleasing to him,
By this I call on him.

For weighing all things well,

When I in truth would cast away

The unavailing burden from my soul,

I can conjecture none to help save Zeus."

"Go on," said Cineas, "and see what the same one says,”—and he himself took up the strain:

"The One who leadeth mortals

On wisdom's way;

Who bringeth knowledge out of suffering.'

"Ah! my Helena, I have often thought that thus the Deity guides us on wisdom's way,' bringing for us ‘knowl

edge out of suffering." I firmly believe that our desire to know him is pleasant to him; and among all the things that purify the soul, the very best is the aspiration after God. If we desire him, this of itself proves that we are prepared to address him. Friends associate with one another when they have sympathies in common. The desire to approach to God shows that in some respects we are like him. Now like cleaves to like, and where there is an aspiration after God, there is an approach to him."

"Yes; but will God come to us? What matters it how much we may aspire? We can never reach him. Still

he remains inaccessible."

"The approach is something, nevertheless."

"But in my condition it does not avail. Alas! Cineas, I fear the longings of my soul cannot be gratified. If I but knew him, I might go to him; but how can I go to him; how can I address him?"

66

You

"My early life," she continued, after a pause, " and your companionship, and the instructions of the Master,' excited irrepressible desires within my mind, ― ideas and thoughts that can never be subdued. You pass beyond me, brother dearest," she added, in mournful tones; "beyond me. are going onward and upward in your soul's flight, while I linger near the starting-place. You already catch glimpses of the Deity, while I seek after him in vain. I know not how to address him, and if I did, my first words would be 'Great God! teach me how to pray to thee!'"

And now, as she spoke these words, a wonderful thing occurred. In their walk along the portico, they often went to and fro, and at this moment they reached the western extremity, near which was a small room which opened out toward the front. From this room there came the sound of a sweet, childish voice, but in a strangely slow and solemn

tone.

"Hush!" said Helena, laying her hand on her brother's

arm.

And then slowly and solemnly, in that sweet, childish voice, as if in direct answer to the yearning cry of the mother, there came these words:

"Our Father who art in Heaven! Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever! Amen!"

Tears burst from Helena's eyes.

"What words are these!" she cried,

"Our Father;'

and clasping her hands, she stood listening, looking upward at the same time, as though from a half-formed thought that she might thus see that "Father."

more.

III.

ISAAC.

HEN the prayer ceased, they waited in silence for
But no more words of prayer were heard.
The voice of the child laughing merrily soon arose,
and Cineas looked up with a sigh.

"Ah, Helena," said he, "I have heard something which is better than all my arguments. Where did Marcus learn that?"

"I don't know, unless it was from the nurse."

Cineas folded his arms, and stood fixed in thought. Helena silently left him and went in. After a while he looked for her and saw that she had gone.

"Yes," he murmured, "the mother must have gone to solace herself with that sweet boy. But the nurse, - where did she learn that?

He walked up and down for a little while, and then sauntered into the house, and reclined on a couch in the Peristylium. After a while Helena came in, followed by the boy Marcus and the nurse. The boy was an ethereal creature, with features strikingly like those of his mother. He had her spiritual eyes and sweet, expressive mouth. He was not more than seven years old, and rather tall for his age. He came bounding up to his uncle with the air of one sure of a welcome; and Cineas took him in his arms, and pressed him to his heart, and looked lovingly at his beautiful face, and said a thousand caressing words. After a