e were a few, and they
the choicest spirits of the neighbourhood, who only drew nearer to
these their friends in misfortune. Among them was Mr. Allison, one
of those wise old men whose minds grow not dim with advancing years.
He had passed through many trying vicissitudes, had suffered, and
come up from the ordeal purer than when the fire laid hold upon the
dross of nature.

A wise monitor had he been in Markland's brighter days, and now he
drew near as a comforter. There is strength in true words kindly
spoken. How often was this proved by Mr. and Mrs. Markland, as their
venerable friend unlocked for them treasures of wisdom!

The little parlour at "Lawn Cottage," the name of their new home,
soon became the scene of frequent reunions among choice spirits,
whose aspirations went higher and deeper than the external and
visible. In closing around Mr. Markland, they seemed to shut him
out, as it were, from the old world in which he had hoped, and
suffered, and struggled so vainly; and to open before his purer
vision a world of higher beauty. In this world were riches for the
toiler, and honour for the noble--riches and honour far more to be
desired than the gems and gold of earth or its empty tributes of
praise.

A few months of this new life wrought a wonderful change in
Markland. All the better elements of his nature were quickened into
activity. Useful daily employment tranquillized his spirits; and not
unfrequently he found himself repeating the words of Longfellow--

"Something attempted, something done,
Had earned a night's repose."

So entirely was every thing of earthly fortune wrecked, and so
changed were all his relations to the business world, that hope had
yet no power to awaken his mind to ambition. For the present,
therefore, he was content to receive the reward of daily toil, and
to be thankful that he was yet able to supply the real wants of his
family. A cheerful tone of feeling gradually succeeded the state of
deep depression from which he had suffered. His spirit, which had
walked in darkness, began to perceive that light was breaking in
through the hitherto impenetrable gloom, and as it fell upon the
path he was treading, a flower was seen here and there, while the
roughness his imagination had pictured became not visible.

Nearly a year had glided away since the wreck of Markland's fortune,
and little or no change in his worldly prospects was visible. He was
sitting late, one evening, read