CHAPTER VIII.

HAVE been very selfish, Calanthe," continued Monica, after a pause; "I have dwelt so long on my own

interests and my own feelings, that I have forgotten your son's letter, and the further information which you say it contains with respect to the poor Christian woman towards whom his conduct has been so kind and benevolent. I believe, dear Calanthe, that both he and you will reap a rich reward for your generous kindness to the desolate Claudia; for our Divine Master promised that he would recompense every such act towards one of his disciples as if it had been done to himself. It is true that neither you nor Alypius are yet believers in him; but I am sure you will both become his servants, and the entrance of this Christian woman into your family will doubtless bring a blessing with it.”

"I fear, Monica, that my chief motive for complying with my son's request was the hope of seeing him after his long absence from home. I do also feel much for the unhappy Claudia's lonely condition, and for all the trials that she has had to endure. I know what it is to be left alone in the world; and I would do what is in my power to alleviate the sorrows of a fellow-sufferer. You have taught me to love the followers of Jesus, by showing me the virtues that you say this religion teaches. If all who are now called Christians were as pure, as

kind, and as self-forgetting as you are, Monica, I think the religion would spread more rapidly than it does. Men would love it for its fruits, and would prefer it to the worship of deities whose lives are known to have been anything but good and holy."

Calanthe,” said Monica, looking very earnestly in her friend's face, "if you feel all this, why do you still profess to worship those so-called deities; who-if they ever existedwere only, as you confess, frail and imperfect beings; and who have only been exalted to the dignity of gods by the ignorance and superstition of their fellow-creatures? Why cannot you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ; in him who created those very human beings whom you now call gods; in him who was from eternity One with the great Almighty Source of all things, and who yet humbled himself to become a man, and to die for the sake of sinners-in him who rose from the grave and returned to his Father, and who now dwells in that glorious heaven where all his true disciples will hereafter dwell with him in perfect purity and perfect joy, that will know neither change nor end?"

Monica paused; and such an expression of holy love and holy zeal overspread her countenance, that she appeared to Calanthe almost as an angel. She knew not what to reply to her earnest appeal, the evident sincerity of which impressed her deeply; and yet she could not say that she believed in the Crucified One as her Lord and her God. Calanthe had so long been accustomed to believe in a plurality of gods that it did not either surprise or shock her to find that others worshipped deities in whom she had never put her trust, and whose aid and protection she had

never invoked. Jesus of Nazareth might be the God of a certain nation, or a certain sect, or even of certain individuals, who chose to pay their vows to him, and enrol themselves among his followers in preference to any other deities; but she did not, therefore, believe that there could be no other object of worship, and that the God of the Christians was the only true God of the universe.

Conversion in Calanthe's heart must be a gradual work, founded on a firm conviction of the superiority of the Christian religion over all others, not only in its doctrines, but in the practice of its disciples. The life of Monica had done much to teach her the purity and heavenly-mindedness to which a sincere follower of Christ might attain; but the inconsistency and worldliness of many other professors had also done much to shake her belief in the sanctifying effects of Christianity, and to lead her to believe that all the virtues and graces which she saw and admired in Monica were rather the result of her natural character than the fruits of her holy faith.

At the period of which we are speaking the profession of Christianity was widely spread. It had been embraced not only by the Emperor and the court, but by many of high rank, and occupying eminent and influential stations throughout the provinces. The name of Christian no longer brought persecution and shame on those who adopted it; nor did it stand in the way of worldly honour and worldly advancement. It did not, therefore, require the same degree of faith and courage as in earlier times, to enable any one to take up the standard of the Captain of our salvation, and declare himself one of his soldiers and servants. Consequently there were many who

were called Christians because they were born of Christian parents, or because circumstances had led them into Christian society. Many marriages also took place between Christians and pagans, which tended greatly to impair the purity of the rising church, and also led in some cases, as in that of the faithful Monica and the idolatrous Patricius, to the conversion of the unbeliever, though probably much more frequently to the falling away of the nominal Christian. Many heresies had also begun to spring up in the church. Arians, Manichæans, Donatists, Pelagians, and others, were already disturbing the peace and unity of the professing church, and, by the lives of numbers of their members, bringing discredit on the holy name by which they were called. No wonder, then, that Calanthe was led to question the divine pre-eminence of a religion which appeared to produce such uncertain fruits.

All these doubts and difficulties Calanthe had often expressed to her friend; and as often had Monica endeavoured to show her that the sins and inconsistencies of nominal believers ought not to be any hindrance to her believing in the holiness of the doctrines and precepts of the gospel, and in the divinity of Him who taught them. Calanthe acknowledged this, but she did not yet believe. The grace of God could alone remove the film from her spiritual vision, and enable her to look on Him whom her sins had pierced as her only God and Saviour. To that grace Monica inwardly committed her, firmly believing that it would ere long be extended to her beloved friend, as surely as she believed it would be exerted for the salvation of her still more beloved son.

Again the conversation reverted to the letters which Calanthe

F

had received from Alypius, and the happy prospect of his speedy arrival at Tagaste with the interesting Christian widow. The sun was now sinking in the west and gilding the summits of the distant range of Atlas mountains which bounded the view in that direction. Calanthe and Monica finished their conversation, gathered together the implements of their industry, and rose to return to their homes near Tagaste. As they approached the dwelling of Calanthe, which was situated in the suburb of the small town, they observed a rather rude vehicle, something between a cart and a chariot, drawing near from the opposite direction, along the road that led from Carthage.

No sooner did the driver perceive them than he urged the horse to greater speed, and in a few moments Calanthe found herself in the arms of her son. So great was her joy at again beholding him that for a time she forgot his fellow-traveller, and did not observe the sad and wistful eyes of Claudia, which were filled with tears as she gazed at the happy mother, and felt that no such meeting with her own lost treasure, or with her adopted son, could ever be hoped for by her on earth.

Monica divined the feelings of the bereaved mother, and with gentle sympathy she approached her, and greeted her, and drew her into conversation. Soon Calanthe recovered herself; and then she courteously welcomed the stranger, and bade her to consider that she had come to a home, and that friends would henceforth endeavour to cheer and comfort her.

A sad smile lighted up the wan features of Claudia as the looks and words of kindness fell on her ears and her heart; and as Alypius watched her, the same strange look came over her