wakens its appropriate affection. If there had been a
true love of his neighbor in the mind of the gifted one when he
wrote the book from which the mother read, and if his purpose had
been to inspire with human emotions--and none but these are
God-like--the souls of men, his work would have filled the heart of
that mother with a deeper love of her child, instead of freezing in
her bosom the surface of love's celestial fountain. To have
hearkened to the grief of that dear child, and to have ministered to
its comfort, would have been a commonplace act, but, how truly noble
and divine! And now, look again, and let what passes before you give
strength to your wavering spirits."

I lifted my eyes, and saw a man reading, and I knew that he read
that work of mine which the gifted one had condemned as dull, and
tame, and commonplace. And, moreover, I knew that he was in trouble
so deep as to be almost hopeless of the future, and just ready to
give up his life-struggle, and let his hands fall listless and
despairing by his side. Around him were gathered his wife and his
little ones, and they were looking to him, but in vain, for the help
they needed.

As the man read, I saw a light come suddenly into his face. He
paused, and seemed musing for a time; and his eyes gleamed quickly
upwards, and as his lips parted, these words came forth: "Yes, yes;
it must be so. God is merciful as he is wise, and will not forsake
his creatures. He tries us in the fires of adversity but to consume
the evil of our hearts. I will trust him, and again go forth, with
my eyes turned confidingly upwards." And the man went forth in the
spirit of confidence in Heaven, inspired by what I had written.

"Look again," said the one by my side.

I looked, and saw the same man in the midst of a smiling family. His
countenance was full of life and happiness, for his trust had not
been in vain. As I had written, so he had found it. God is good, and
lets no one feel the fires of adversity longer than is necessary for
his purification from evil.

"Look again!" came like tones of music to my ear.

I looked, and saw one lying upon a bed. By the lines upon his brow,
and the compression of his lips, it was evident that he was in
bodily suffering. A book lay near him; it was written by the gifted
one, and was full of bright thoughts and beautiful images. He took
it, and tried to forget his pain in these thoughts and images. But
in this he did not succeed, and soon