ut the whole framework of their religion so
hollow, that at this moment, while the English nation, with its lips,
pretends to teach every man to 'love his neighbour as himself,' with its
hands and feet it clutches and tramples like a wild beast; and
practically lives, every soul of it that can, on other people's labour.
Briefly, the constant duty of every man to his fellows is to ascertain
his own powers and special gifts; and to strengthen them for the help of
others. Do you think Titian would have helped the world better by
denying himself, and not painting; or Casella by denying himself, and
not singing? The real virtue is to be ready to sing the moment people
ask us; as he was, even in purgatory. The very word 'virtue' means not
'conduct' but 'strength,' vital energy in the heart. Were not you
reading about that group of words beginning with V,--vital, virtuous,
vigorous, and so on,--in Max Muller, the other day, Sibyl? Can't you
tell the others about it?

SIBYL. No, I can't; will you tell us, please?

L. Not now, it is too late. Come to me some idle time to-morrow, and
I'll tell you about it, if all's well. But the gist of it is, children,
that you should at least know two Latin words; recollect that 'mors'
means death and delaying; and 'vita' means life and growing: and try
always, not to mortify yourselves, but to vivify yourselves.

VIOLET. But, then, are we not to mortify our earthly affections? and
surely we are to sacrifice ourselves, at least in God's service, if not
in man's?

L. Really, Violet, we are getting too serious. I've given you enough
ethics for one talk, I think! Do let us have a little play. Lily, what
were you so busy about, at the ant-hill in the wood, this morning?

LILY. Oh, it was the ants who were busy, not I; I was only trying to
help them a little.

L. And they wouldn't be helped, I suppose?

LILY. No, indeed. I can't think why ants are always so tiresome, when
one tries to help them! They were carrying bits of stick, as fast as
they could, through a piece of grass; and pulling and pushing, _so_
hard; and tumbling over and over,--it made one quite pity them; so I
took some of the bits of stick, and carried them forward a little, where
I thought they wanted to put them; but instead of being pleased, they
left them directly, and ran about looking quite angry and frightened;
and at last ever so many of them got up my sleeves, and bit me all over,
and I had to come away.

L. I coul