the numbers rapidly increased; so that between that time and the present many hundreds of destitute children have been helped and sheltered in the Institution. For twentyeight years the count presided over it himself; but in 1847, worn out by hard work, he retired to a quieter home, where he still lives an old man of more than eighty years, surrounded by children and grandchildren. But even then he could not be idle, and for many years he has had, close to his own door, a happy Home for poor imbecile children, whom the aged count still watches with tender interest.

But what has this history to do with my title? While Count Adelberdt was devoting himself to the care of his large family, he felt he had no time to think of getting married. He thought, too, that a wife who was not entirely consecrated would only hinder his work; and that work which he was doing for God was dearer, to him than any earthly happiness. God had, however, other thoughts for His servant. He knows that a true, good woman, one 66 who feareth the Lord," and who also "looketh well to the ways of her household," is a help and not a hindrance to her husband. And so, in a far-off home, led by God's hand, and taught by His Spirit, a young girl was being trained to become, at the age of twenty-five, the mother of this great Home.

now.

Matilda, Countess von Pfeil, now comes before us; a young girl of noble birth, and fitted, both by her natural powers and by education, to shine in society; but if this had been all, thousands would not still bless her memory, as is the case At the age of twelve, Matilda sought her Saviour. When fifteen she thus dedicates herself to God in writing: "I vow to Thee, Triune God, to give up everything, that I may be a partaker of Thy grace. . . . Only strengthen me in all good resolutions which I make now, and always let me recognise Thy grace, that I may turn away more and more from all that is earthly to Thee alone; that to me, too, Christ, my Saviour, may one day say Come, thou blessed of my Father, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.'" These were no mere words. At the age of twenty-three, she

wrote, "Living to God gives me peace in my soul, and an indifference to the outward unpleasantnesses of the present; which, indeed, cannot be made better by complaining of them. Oh, if I could only share this peace with everybody I should be quite happy."

At this time she was very busy sharing some of their studies with her brothers and sisters, reading religious books for her own profit, helping in the kitchen, and doing all she could for her poorer neighbours, teaching the children, and visiting the sick and afflicted. Little did she foresee the life for which she was preparing. Matilda read with interest the accounts of Count Recke's Home, and in 1825 they met for the first time. The count felt a great interest about her, and she looked up to him with reverence and trust, as to one who was far more experienced, and could help her in spiritual things. But he dared not yet think of marriage till he had received God's sanction, and then came the question, “Is Matilda indeed the right wife for me?" For many months he sought to know God's will touching this matter. He was afraid she had been accustomed to so many comforts she would not like the hard life he had chosen. At last, however, it became clear to him that his adopted children needed a loving mother's care, and that Matilda could give that care. At first Matilda's father said the count was too poor to marry, but though this disappointment was a trial, she left herself in God's hands, and He at last opened a way for them to be united.

It was a joyful day when Count Adelberdt took home his bride. Long before they approached Dusselthal many people came to meet them, so that they "passed through the gate with a great company.". The garden in front of the house was illuminated, and they had quite a festal reception. A few days after, the Countess Matilda writes: "To set before you, my dear parents, the duties of all sorts that I have would be impossible to-day. I will only say in haste that, thank God, I am getting on very well here; that I am well, and from five o'clock in the morning till half-past ten at night I

am not free from work. I have to order everything, and inake out bills of fare for four tables, to see after the meals every day, to give out work and superintend it, to preserve and dry fruit, to visit the sick, to cut out garments," etc.

Here is a picture of her later on from her daughter's pen: "While a young girl watched by the cradle of her sleeping child the young mother was to be seen, soon after five in the morning, in the dairy, busily skimming the cream; then in the store-room; later in the dairy again, washing the butter herself; then overseeing everything in the great house, giving out work, visiting the sick, and later, by the child's cradle with the great account books. At mid-day again in the kitchen; and I remember that one day, about ten years later, tired out with cutting two hundred helpings of meat, she fell down faint by the kitchen table." To show how she denied herself I will mention one incident. After her marriage her mother wrote to ask her and the count to have their likenesses painted, but the Countess Matilda replied that they did not feel that it would be right to spare the money for this object, because all they had left after their own simple living had been paid for was generally needed for the orphans.

God gave to the count and countess ten children of their own, and she who was a good mother to the orphans was a most tender mother to them. All work that could be done in the midst of her little ones was done in their room. She often spent hours there over her accounts and other writing, the children playing around her, and she ever ready to give to them loving words and a helping hand. As they grew older she found for them teachers, whom she could trust, to give them good teaching and to lead them on in the heavenly way. Her daughter. says of her, "She did not teach by many words, but she did so much the more powerfully and lastingly by her example. It was impossible to see her in her untiring, vigorous, silent activity without learning to help with love and pleasure, and to emulate her, although we might never attain to her many-sided efficiency; for whatever she undertook she succeeded in amply for the

fulfilment of her duty or for the pleasure of others; and everything which came under her observation, which went on in the world, or of which she read, awoke her lively interest." In addition to her other work she took upon her the labour of dispensing medicines to the sick, and the people came from miles round to consult her. With a few intermissions this busy, happy life went on for twenty years. The countess was the joy of her husband's heart, yet they seldom met, except at meals, from the early morning till late in the evening. But he knew that everything under her care was in order and going on well, while he was fully occupied in his own department. Was not this a rest and help to him? Of her it might be said, during the forty-two years of their married life, "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil."

After leaving Dusselthal the countess enjoyed the opportunity of more uninterrupted association with her family and friends. Still the claims of the poor and the sick were never forgotten by her. The failing of her health was gradual, and the last illness short. Very tenderly was she watched over by her husband and children, and the thoughtfulness for all around, which had characterised her from early life, was continually apparent. In few words I will add, in reference to her spiritual life, that the Saviour whom she trusted for her salvation in the beginning of her Christian course was her strength all through the dark as well as the bright days of her life, and that her love to Him was unwavering to the end.

In 1867 she died as she had lived, resting on her Lord, "in quietness and confidence" receiving, doubtless, the fulfilment of her desire, uttered fifty-one years before, "That to me, too, Christ my Saviour may one day say, 'Come, thou blessed of My Father, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.""

For further particulars of her life, see "Recollections of the Life of the Countess Matilda von der Recke Volmerstein," by her Daughter.

Questions.

I.-PHARAOH'S QUESTION. EXODUS V. 2.

is very interesting to notice the questions of the Bible, and see how the heart's questioning finds expression in the same words now; or how some questions of long ago still fit into the human heart, or how others are now used in a different sense from their original one.

The question of Pharaoh's proud heart, "Who is the Lord, that I should obey His voice ?" is very often heard still. It is the utterance of many rebellious, defiant, carping, indolent hearts. "The tongue that speaketh proud things" is still saying, "Who is Lord over us?" And where not openly spoken it forms a muttered undertone, heard by Him who hearkens, and hears that they speak not aright, belying the words of the lips.

We may put against that the question of the blind man whose restoration to sight is recorded in John ix.; though in a very different spirit from that of Pharaoh were the words uttered by him. Jesus asked him, "Dost thou believe on the Son of God ?" And out of an honest heart, touched by kindness and ready to yield itself in loving subjection the moment that the right object is set before it, the blind man replied, "Who is He, Lord, that I might believe on Him?” and receiving further teaching he gladly worshipped, saying, "Lord, I believe." Let us ask ourselves in which tone does our hearts utter the question?

But Pharaoh's question is very like that of the "unclean spirits" we read of in the New Testament. For instance, the one mentioned in Mark i. 23-27, and Luke iv. 33-36, which though able to say, "I know Thee who Thou art," was yet unwilling to submit, and cried out, "What have we to do with Thee? Let us alone." Alas! that so many now know Jesus well by head knowledge, but still are unwilling to submit themselves to Him; unwilling to bear His light yoke. Alas! that so many are still constantly saying, "What have we to do with Thee?" when any loving precept of the