and he pulled a funny face. "That will be very kind."

"But they will never know, and I want them to like me," said I.

"I thought you only wanted to be kind," he answered. And then he began
to talk very gently about different sorts of kindness, and that if I
wished to be kind like a Christian, I must be kind without hoping for
any reward, whether gratitude or anything else. He told me that the
best followers of Jesus in all times had tried hard to do everything,
however small, simply for GOD's sake, and to put themselves
away. That they often began even their letters, etc., with such words,
as, "Glory to GOD," to remind themselves that everything they
did, to be perfect, must be done to GOD, and GOD alone. And that in
doing good kind things even, they were afraid lest, though the thing
was right, the wish to do it might have come from conceit or
presumption.

"This self-devotion," he added, "is the very highest Christian life,
and seems, I dare say, very hard for you even to understand, and much
more so to put in practice. But we must all try for it in the best way
we can, little woman; and for those who by GOD's grace really
practised it, it was almost as impossible to be downcast or
disappointed as if they were already in Heaven. They wished for
nothing to happen to themselves but GOD's will; they did
nothing but for GOD's glory. And so a very good bishop says,
'I have my end, whether I succeed or am disappointed.' So you will
have your end, my child, in being kind to these little birds in the
right way, and denying yourself, whether they know you or not."

I could not have understood all he said; but I am afraid I did not try