All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord; and thy saints shall bless thee. They shall speak of the glory of thy kingdom, and talk of thy power.—PSALM cxlv, 10, 11.

JUNE, beautiful June, with its sunshine and roses, and long bright days, its tempting suggestions of wood and lawn, meadow and stream, brought midsummer holidays also to mind. Mrs. Latimer, assisted by a well-informed Christian gentlewoman and suitable masters, still superintended the education of her daughters and the younger children at home; and Philip and Ernest had become daily boarders with the gentlemen to whose wise care they had, after many prayers for Divine guidance, been confided.

Most of the family were now able to appreciate a change, and to make bodily enjoyment subserve mental improvement also. And Mr. Latimer had decided on a method of spending the vacation which he expected would meet with unmixed approbation from all parties concerned.

Saturday evening brought the whole family together in pleasant anticipation of the day of rest, uninterrupted by preparations for the next day's lessons. And the children loved to sit around papa in the twilight of summer, as much as with mamma by the warmth of the winter fire.

"The holidays will soon be here," remarked Philip, "and I am thinking how we shall spend them this time. I wouldn't mind going to the sea, if I might have a trip in one of the fishing boats, papa."

"I have been thinking about the holidays too, Philip," said his father, "but I do not feel much fancy for the fishing-boat. Suppose I suggest something else. What if we rise some bright morning almost as soon as the sun, and go up Loughrigg in search of an appetite for breakfast?"

"Loughrigg, papa; where is that?"

"I think it is some hill or mountain in the lake district," said Ernest, "and papa is making fun of us."

"I have only got as far as breakfast yet. Then we are rather disposed to be quiet and read for an hour, by which time mamma and your sisters will be ready for a pleasant row on Windermere; and away we go to secure a boat, and I am obliged to teach my young gentlemen to use the oars. By the time their arms ache tolerably, we reach the Ferry, or Bowness, and are hungry again; so we take votes about floating or landing, and finally settle ourselves and our basket in a shady nook of a wooded islet to enjoy our luncheon."

"I never heard anything like this," exclaimed one; "I wish it could come true."

"Papa never tells stories," said another, oracularly; "I am sure there is something in it."

"Well, let us get back again in time to see the sun set behind Langdale Pikes, which stand out from the golden sky like giant guardians of the valley."

"I never saw a real mountain yet. O how I should like to see this!" said Agnes.

"The lake for me," cried Philip; "the lake, the boat, and a fishing rod, and I would catch you such a dinner!"

"And if there are lakes and mountains, there must be waterfalls somewhere; and I do so long to see a waterfall," said Marion.

"Then," continued papa, "we must order a carriage, and spend a day at Lodore, where all your wishes can be gratified at once, lake and boat, mountain and waterfall."

"But really now, papa, you always say we must not covet anything not proper for us; and I can't tell what to think of all this."

"I will tell you then. I do wish you, dear children, 'in whatever state you are therewith to be content.' And yet, if any unusual but lawful gratification is offered to you, to accept it thankfully from the kind hand of our heavenly Father, who gives us 'all things richly to enjoy.' You know that as you are growing up, there are sometimes ways of spending time, or rather, perhaps, of wasting it, proposed to you, or wished for by yourselves, which dear mamma and I feel obliged to deny you; and there are some associates whom you fancy good and pleasant of whom we entertain a different opinion; and our duty to God and to you compels us to inflict a disappointment, or cause a privation. Now of 'the world,' as it is called, the ways and objects and pursuits of those who neglect God, the less you know the better. But of the world physically and geographically, the works of God in creation, the beautiful scenes and curious stores that charm the eye, improve the taste, and inform the mind, you cannot know too much, while rendering back to their Creator the praise which their greatness and loveliness ought to inspire. You hear I am making a long speech; I hope you are not going to sleep until I have finished."

"To sleep!" exclaimed the whole party impatiently. "Do go on, dear papa; it is a very nice speech, and we guess what is coming."

"I propose, therefore, in the place of what might injure, to supply you with something that may benefit, and, with God's blessing, may promote health of body, refreshment of mind, and provide new themes of interest and sources of pleasure, pure and unalloyed as they can be in a fallen world. So long as his providence enables us, we will visit each summer some region of beauty, where nature has been spared the meddling genius of man; and our explorations must of course begin in our own country. So, you know, the less we spend upon useless and needless objects, the more we can afford for real, substantial enjoyments."

"Then the holidays are settled, and of all things that could have been thought of, in the most delightful way," said Philip.

"And the appetite is waiting for us on Loughrigg. I never knew anything so capital. I declare I feel like a mountaineer already," cried Ernest, skipping over a seat that stood in his way.

"And what are those other mountains?" said Agnes. "Is not one Helvellyn, and another Skiddaw? And—dear, dear, to think of seeing places that one has only learned on the map!"

"Fifteen days, and off we go. Papa, we shall never be able to thank you enough for this great treat."

Papa was thanked already in the pleasure of anticipation, and his heart rose in grateful love to the Giver of all good, for the means of thus wisely gratifying those so dear to him.

Fifteen days, as Philip said, and off they went, the whole family, half of whom at least were nearly wild with joy. Never, they thought, was day so bright, nor railway so interesting; and never, thought their older companion, were tongues so busy, nor spirits so high.

It should be told that the chief varieties the children had seen of the earth's beauty were within easy reach of home, or at least at only such distances as very young travelers can bear with comfort. A country village with pleasant meadows, or the flat sea-beach at a neighboring watering place, had been the extent of their ramblings. And these were not entirely to their taste, now that they could bear a journey and endure fatigue, and had become more inquisitive withal about what was to be seen beyond their home horizon.

No wonder, then, that when the train dashed past the open country into the immediate vicinity of Windermere, and the lovely scene from above Bowness, in the rich beauty of summer foliage, and the blue lake smiling in the lap of its guardian hills, burst into view, one long, loud exclamation of rapturous surprise announced the feelings of the youthful admirers.

And for five or six weeks, they reveled in mountain breezes and luxuriant vales, where they imbibed voracious appetites, inexhaustible spirits, and pleasure greater or less out of everything. Stores of curiosities filled pockets and baskets for future examination; specimens, sketches, memorials from mountain tops, pebbles from river beds, wild flowers from the woods, ferns from the rocks, were daily gathered in. Boating, gipsying, driving, scrambling, afforded intimate acquaintance with some of the most charming scenes of the neighborhood; to say nothing of the interesting vagaries of a willful donkey, which drew, or stopped short, according to his peculiar mood, a nondescript vehicle filled with the smaller tourists of the party, who found infinite amusement in the joltings of his kindly pace, or the rigid decision with which he occasionally declined to assist their speed. But everything was right, and fell in to admiration; and even the few rainy days that obliged them to remain within, with books and work, supplied food for expectation that waterfalls would rush a little faster and roar a little louder.

Sunday too was a happy day, for the spot chosen as head-quarters combined what is not always found in scenes distinguished by natural beauty—the better gifts of divine grace; and the favored inhabitants of mountain and valley gathered together on "the pearl of days," to hear the pure Gospel of Jesus Christ from the lips of a faithful and devoted pastor. The walk was lovely, and the little temple dedicated to the worship of God stood amid emblems of the precious truths preached within it. It was built on a rock; the clear sparkling waters of a winding river flowed at its base, trees waved around the windows, and lofty mountains stretching far away as the eye could reach, seemed to guard the lovely inclosure from the external world.

It was easy to remind the children, while drinking in with untiring eyes the charms of such a scene, of the Eternal Rock, "the sure foundation," the "tree of life," the "green pastures and still waters," the "everlasting hills," and the encamping of Jehovah round about them that fear him; figures all his own to illustrate, by means of what man by nature admires and delights in, the far higher and better things which man by grace may experience and enjoy.

But home must be thought of, and none were at all eager to exchange this manner of life in the yet long bright days of summer for the toil-stained town, the flow of waters for the rush of human crowds the rocky heights and pine-clad hills for slated roofs and chimney-tops. But so it must be, and with some sadness of heart, the young tourists prepared to return.

Mrs. Latimer observed their feelings, and moreover heard sundry slighting remarks upon the locality of home, made quietly to each other, and took occasion herself to speak thankfully of having many blessings to which to return after so long an absence; but her observations elicited no response.

On the day after the journey, she heard many ironical allusions to the uninteresting "scenery" visible around; every puddle was sneeringly named after one of the lakes; any elevation of broken ground, or temporary heap of mud, provoked a ridiculous apostrophe to their favorite mountain; and there were unmistakable symptoms of reluctance to bring out the books and slates again.

Mrs. Latimer was not much surprised, for she had never flattered herself into the idea that her watchful discipline could change her children's hearts, or eradicate the deep-seated rebellion of the human will within them. But she did not therefore leave the mischief to work its pleasure. Such manifestations did not prove that her plans had been wrong in the past, but that she must persevere at the present. They did not induce her to proclaim that holidays and recreations were evil, but taught her that every circumstance in life will be perverted by the enemy, if not forestalled by the power of God. So she took the cause at once to Him who rules all hearts, and can as easily make a child obedient, as direct an angel's flight.

Having given sufficient time to the restoration of persons and things to their usual places, Mrs. Latimer summoned her children to their morning reading before lessons, and without asking them to join in their accustomed order, she read alone a portion of Scripture expressive of praise for undeserved mercies, and desire to render willing obedience as the result of grateful love. Then kneeling with them all around her, she gave thanks for all the mercies which had attended their going out and coming in, and prayed earnestly that the Holy Spirit of God would breathe into every heart the right response, would drive out the evil which Satan might endeavor to excite from the very fullness of recent blessings, and conform every will to immediate and practical obedience; that he would remind them of the value of a Christian home and hours of study, as well as scenes of beauty and hours of relaxation; of a time to work as well as a time to play; and that affection and indulgence would find their happiest fruits in willing and cheerful return to the daily routine of prescribed duty.

When she rose, conscious hearts were beating, and tearful eyes were turned toward her; then each sprang into her arms for a loving kiss, and all went to work with good-will, and neither murmurs nor sarcastic speeches were heard again. A victory was gained; and who shall estimate the consequence, which might not be limited to that one occasion, of carrying discontented feelings and rebellious wills directly into the presence of Almighty God, who was thus recognized, as the source of authority and power, and able to subdue and control them all.

Mr. Latimer had for some time observed with regret the turn of mind and taste manifested by his eldest son. He saw that it was not from Philip he must expect the assistance of a man of business, and without assuming any suspicion of his tendencies, he kindly and imperceptibly presented, as far as practicable, any counteracting impressions he could devise.

Philip was generous and impulsive, and not particularly studious. But, from the desire to gratify his parents, he had striven to make creditable progress. His heart, however, was not with his books; and nothing but the fear of disappointing hopes, probably connected with his future career, had withheld him from boldly declaring his choice of an occupation in life.

But as time passed on, and he heard nothing to elicit any expression of his wishes, he one day opened his heart to his father with candor and diffidence.

"I know it must be as you decide, of course, papa," he concluded; "but indeed there is nothing I should like so well, nor anything I feel so fit for."

"Have you thought of the great change such a life must be to you, Philip?" asked his father, gravely.

"Yes, papa, I have thought of everything about it for a long time past. And nothing seems against it but the good education you have given me, and which may perhaps seem partly thrown away."

"Not so, my dear Philip; you have chiefly learned what you will find useful in any station and under almost any circumstances. It was my duty to educate you consistently with my means and position in life, and perhaps you will be rather surprised that I wish you to give a year to studies suitable for this profession of your choice before taking any active steps in the matter. I do not oppose you, because I have long perceived that the idea has become part of yourself. But, my dear Philip, you must remember that when decided on and prepared for, you cannot be permitted lightly to abandon it; you are not to embark in such a pursuit as a mere amusing adventure."

"O no, papa, I expect it to be my business, my means of earning my daily bread."

"Then I shall secure you such instruction as may qualify you for entering upon it with every possible advantage. But, Philip, if I saw you as steadily resolved to serve God as you are to embrace a profession in the service of man, I should look forward with far more confidence than I now feel to your success and happiness in it. Can you say that you have consulted his will and glory in the matter?"

"No, papa, I cannot. I have thought of my own wishes, and—but yes, I have thought whether it was a right thing, for if not, I knew you would never consent. But I could not see anything wrong in it, if I try to remember what I have been taught all my life."

"No, there is nothing necessarily wrong in it. But many do not do credit to it either, Philip."

"Indeed I shall try, papa. But you know I am only beginning the world, and not likely to be as wise and good now as I hope to be by and by."

"The wisdom I covet for you, my dear boy, comes from above, and is as suitable to the soul of a little child as that of the experienced man. The aged sinner must become as a child in conscious helplessness before he can rest wholly on the mercy and love of Jesus. I know better than you do the temptation and snares that will beset you; and I know too, that mere human resolutions will not uphold you. And you will have to endure many a bitter hour of remorse if conscience preserve any degree of sensitiveness, from which early devotedness to God would shield you."

"I will try to keep every rule you give me, papa; and then surely I shall not go wrong."

"I can give you no moral code that is not contained in God's word, Philip. And we can say of you with truth, that 'from a child you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto salvation.' I do not think there is any difficulty or temptation you can encounter that has not its appropriate advice or warning in your Bible. Let me hope that you will really study it in order to frame your conduct by its precepts day by day, as well as to know more about your need of a Saviour, 'whom to know is life eternal.' I can part with you, my son, for any length of time that God requires on earth, but to part with you for eternity would crush the hopes that were born with your birth, and bring your parents with sorrow to the grave."

Philip never forgot those solemn words; they went down into the very depths of his young heart: he could make no protestations, he could command no voice; but, respectfully pressing his father's hand in both his own, he rushed away to be alone. Did he, in that moment of intense feeling, resolve that he would serve the God of his father? Did he ask for help and strength to do it? Perhaps so.

News, especially if not thoroughly agreeable, flies fast.

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Mrs. Fielding, in eloquent surprise. "What will poor Marion do? It will almost kill her. That boy on whom she has bestowed such care, whom she would not allow out of her sight unless she knew what he was doing, and whom he was with."

"I dare say that is just the reason," said Mr. Fielding, laughing; "he is tired of leading-strings, and is trying to cut them as completely as a lad of spirit can do it."

"It seems almost incredible," continued Mrs. Fielding; "yet I always told her so, and she would not be warned. Her children will certainly rush into the extreme of everything from which she has so carefully guarded them."

"Well, you have prophesied truly, it appears. But I was surprised at the calmness with which Latimer spoke of it; he really did not seem to think it anything to be deplored, while I should have been half mad if one of my boys had chosen such a life. He will never be a gentleman now, nor fill the place of his father before him. I suppose Ernest will be expected to take to business, but I dare say he will think his brother's example too good not to be followed."

"I wonder why they do not try the navy," said Mrs. Fielding, thoughtfully; "that would afford some chance of distinction."

"So I remarked, but Latimer said he did not want any false notions about glory put into the boy's head, and that he could more effectually serve his country by bearing to foreign lands an example of integrity and Christian principle, than by wearing her epaulet on his shoulder. Besides, he said he thought it important to be cautious about the choice of a ship, the commander and his company. But I fancy Philip is not at all particular, if he can only get afloat."

"Is it not surprising that his father and mother should consent?" asked Mrs. Fielding.

"Ah, they are wise there; for, as Latimer said, in a thing not really wrong, nor necessarily involving wrong, opposition must have seemed the result of prejudice and selfishness. He did not suggest the idea, and cannot enter into the charms of it, but he says he has so endeavored to train the boy that he does not believe he could have cherished a mere impulse of fancy so long or so firmly."

"O that is just like Philip Latimer; he thinks so much of training. But I protest the present result of his discipline is anything but satisfactory. A voyage will be sufficient, no doubt, to show the poor boy his folly."

"I said so, but Latimer will not listen to capricious desires for change. He remarked wisely enough that many youths are ruined for usefulness in life by being allowed to try experiments, and to suppose that an occupation or profession is a mere matter of whim and fancy."

"Well, I am thankful to feel that we have no cause for anxiety about one, at least, of our children," said Mrs. Fielding, complacently.

"You mean Harry; and it is, of course, comfortable to know that he is provided for. But I hope your brother will not allow him to be completely idle. I thought when he was here last time that he didn't care how soon he got away again; and he has not much idea of showing kindness to his brothers and sisters."

"I think children know very little about the value of close relationships," said Mrs. Fielding, with a sigh. "Perhaps they will know better by and by. It is natural that Harry should prefer to be the only object of regard at his uncle's, to sharing everything with so many at home."

"That reminds me to say, Helen, do you keep a sufficient watch over George when he is at home? You really must, for I actually thought the other night that the boy had somehow or other had too much wine."

"Well, as you mention it, I had the same suspicion. And I am afraid he is rather too fond of indulging himself in that way when he finds an opportunity."

"It must not be allowed. He must be taught better than that, or else we shall have mischief in hand by and by."

"I wish you would speak to him, then; for I have done so, and he does not mind."

"I shall make him mind, though. I am not going to have a drunkard in my family; that would be worse than going to sea, indeed."

It may be here remarked that Mr. Fielding did speak to his son, who boldly denied the charge. And that being assured from his own observation there was cause for his interference, he punished George with severity, and thus satisfied his conscience that he had done a parent's duty under the double provocation of intemperance and lying.