f the sanctity of God's
holy day, and her husband employed a great deal of skilful rhetoric
and much more subtle sophistry before she could be brought even to
entertain such a project.

"You know I went to church to please you this morning. I am sure you
will be kind enough to oblige me by accepting my friend's invitation.
I know he would be seriously offended if we did not."

Alas for youth, when the counselors it relies on "counsel to do
wickedly"! Clara yielded, though with sad misgivings, and dressed
herself for the ride.

The lady beside her was very courteous and attentive, and the gay
conversation turned on various frivolous worldly subjects, till in the
pleasant excitement of the drive Clara almost forgot the day. When
they turned back again Mrs. Harvey insisted that they should dine with
her, and the carriage stopped at their residence. A gay evening was
spent, Clara being prevailed upon to play some of her choicest music
and join her new acquaintance in singing some popular songs, which she
did with most exquisite grace and expression. Her dark eye grew
brighter and her fair cheek flushed softly, as she felt the proud,
admiring glance of her husband bent upon her. But underneath all her
pleasure was a dull sense of pain and a consciousness of wrong-doing,
which was a very serpent trail among her fragrant flowers. When she
reached her home again a flood of regretful sorrow overwhelmed her
heart, and she wept bitterly. Her husband sought most tenderly to
soothe her grief, and secretly resolved to undermine the "superstition
which caused the dear girl so much unhappiness."

"You have done nothing wrong, dear Clara, that you should reproach
yourself so bitterly. You have only spent a pleasant afternoon and
evening with a friend. We must have dined somewhere, and what
difference whether at their house or our own! what is life given us
for except to make it just as full of happiness as we can, and to make
others around us happy! Just think how much pleasure your sweet
singing gave my friends and me. Harvey said it was better than the
finest opera he ever heard. Religion ought to make people happy. I am
afraid yours has not to-day, Clara, so I cannot think it is just the
right sort for you. Now, really, did not the drive to and from church
do you more good than the sermon? I am quite sure it did; so I always
intend to take a good long road to church in the future."

It was some consolation to know that her husb