FEBRUARY.-Helen has been spending the whole day with me, as she often
does, helping me with her skillful needle, and with the children, in
a very sweet way. I am almost ashamed to indulge in writing down how
dearly she seems to love me, and how disposed she is to sit at my
feet as a learner at the very moment I am longing to possess her
sweet, gentle temper. But one thing puzzles me, in her, and that is
the difficulty she finds in getting hold of these simple truths her
father used to grope after but never found till just as he was
passing out of the world. It seems as if God had compensated such
turbulent, fiery natures as mine, by revealing Himself to them, for
the terrible hours of shame and sorrow through which their sins and
follies cause them to pass. I suffer far more than Helen does, suffer
bitterly, painfully, but I enjoy tenfold more. For I know whom I have
believed, and I cannot doubt that I am truly united to Him. Helen is
naturally very reserved, but by degrees she has come talk with me
quite frankly. To-day as we sat together in the nursery, little
Raymond snatched a toy from Una, who, as usual, yielded to him
without a frown. I called him to me; he came reluctantly.

"Raymond, dear," I said, "did you ever see papa snatch anything from
me?"

He smiled, and shook his head.

'"Well then, until you see him do it to me, never do it to your
sister. Men are gentle and polite to women, and little boys should be
gentle and polite to little girls."

The children ran off to their play, and Helen said,