ts happy denizens. A
summer day was again drawing to its close, but sobbing itself away
in tears. And they were in tears also, whose spirits, but a single
year gone by, reflected only the light and beauty of nature.

By the window sat the mother and daughter, with oppressed hearts,
looking out upon the leaden sky and the misty gusts that swept
across the gloomy landscape. Sad and silent, we have said, they
were. Now and then they gazed into each other's faces, and the lips
quivered as if words were on them. But each spirit held back the
fear by which it was burdened--and the eyes turned wearily again
from the open window.

At last, Fanny's heavy heart could bear in silence the pressure no
longer. Hiding her face in her mother's lap, she sobbed out
violently. Repressing her own struggling emotions, Mrs. Markland
spoke soothing, hopeful words; and even while she sought to
strengthen her daughter's heart, her own took courage.

"My dear child," she said, in a voice made even by depressing its
tone, "do you not remember that beautiful thought expressed by Mrs.
Willet yesterday? 'Death,' said she, 'signifies life; for in every
death there is resurrection into a higher and purer life. This is as
true,' she remarked, 'of our affections, which are but activities of
the life, as of the natural life itself.'"

The sobs of the unhappy girl died away. Her mother continued, in a
low, earnest voice, speaking to her own heart as well as to that of
her child, for it, too, needed strength and comfort.

"How often have we been told, in our Sabbath instructions, that
natural affections cannot be taken to heaven; that they must die, in
order that spiritual affections may be born."

Fanny raised herself up, and said, with slight warmth of manner--

"Is not my love for you a natural affection for my natural mother?
And must that die before I can enter heaven?"

"May it not be changed into a love of what is good in your mother,
instead of remaining only a love of her person?"

"Dear mother!" almost sobbed again the unhappy child,--clasping
eagerly the neck of her parent,--"it is such a love now! Oh! if I
were as good, and patient, and self-denying as you are!"

"All our natural affections," resumed Mrs. Markland, after a few
moments were given to self-control, "have simple regard to
ourselves; and their indulgence never brings the promised happiness.
This is why a wise and good Creator permits our natural desires to
be so often t