spent in idle luxury.  We know, however, that we have the poor always with us, and that we can always learn the luxury of doing good.  In one way or another we ought to see that our superfluous wealth should drain from the high lands into the valleys; not indeed to make the poor luxurious, but to provide them with comfort, to give them health, strength, and enjoyment.  I think then that if we are wise men, seeing that we are placed in a world of care, trouble, and hard work, from which no man can escape; and seeing that, upon the other hand, we are living in a country and in an age when we are surrounded with all that makes life pleasant and enjoyable, we shall endeavour to find out some mode of harmonizing these different chords.  It need hardly be said how far removed luxury is from the spirit of Christianity, and from the life of its Founder; yet it may reverently be remembered that on more than one occasion He showed His tender regard for the weakness of human nature by stamping with His approval the pleasures of convivial festivity.

What then is the remedy against luxury?  I would say shortly,—­in work.  A busy man has no time for luxury, and there is no reason why every man should not have enough to do, if he will only do it.  And I am sure the same rule applies to the ladies, although a very busy man once wrote of his wife—­

   “In work, work, work, in work alway
      My every day is past;
   I very slowly make the coin—­
      She spends it very fast.”

But speaking seriously, I am sure that in some sort of work lies the antidote to luxury.  When Orpheus sailed past the beautiful islands “lying in dark purple spheres of sea,” and heard the songs of the idle and luxurious syrens floating languidly over the waters, he drowned their singing in a paean to the gods.  Religion often affords a great incentive to work for the good of others; and, in working for others, we have neither the time, nor the inclination, to be over indulgent of ourselves.  So, the desire to obtain fame and renown has often produced men of the austere and non-indulgent type, as the Duke of Wellington and many others:—­

   “Fame is the spur which the clear spirit doth raise,
   That last infirmity of noble mind,
   To scorn delights and live laborious days.”

Nay, even the desire to obtain riches, and the strife after them, will leave a man little room for luxury.  To be honest, to be brave, to be kind and generous, to seek to know what is right, and to do it; to be loving and tender to others, and to care little for our comfort and ease, and even for our very lives, is perhaps to be somewhat old-fashioned and behind the age; but these are, after all, the things which distinguish us from the brute beasts which perish, and which justify our aspirations towards eternity.

A STORY.  THE READING PARTY.

CHAPTER I.—­THE COACH.