m, for his own benefit and improvement. With these
points securely guarded, we may safely look to the future without much
dread of that terrible confusion and disorganization which now threaten
the unhappy South. We may at least begin to plant the germs of a
reorganization which will speedily bring back again order and
prosperity, based on a better foundation than they have ever heretofore
had to rest upon.

WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?

'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one lives it--to
not many is it known; and, seize it where you will, it is
interesting.'--_Goethe._

'SUCCESSFUL.--Terminating in accomplishing what is wished or
intended.'--_Webster's Dictionary._

CHAPTER XIII.

'Love descends.' To be filial is a virtue. But who calls parental
affection a virtue? 'Honor thy father and they mother.' It is commanded
from Sinai. 'Love and cherish they children.'

The idea _is_ a melancholy one, that as we grow old, and more than ever
require sympathy, our children, in the inevitable course of nature,
become interested in their own surroundings, and less able to sympathize
with us.

Joel Burns was not, in the ordinary sense, growing old. He was in the
very flush and prime of his manhood. I have explained with what feeling
and affection he regarded his daughter, and how his daughter regarded
him. But for Joel Burns is coming the hour of agony and trial. Reader,
if perchance you begin to take some interest in this narrative, do not
blame Sarah Burns. Could she oppose the _vis naturae?_ Could she, if she
would, battle against that subtle and irresistible _leaven_ which now
began to pervade her being? Indeed, she could not. And how unconscious
she was! How much more than ever she loved her father!--as she thought.
Perhaps she did. For when a young girl first feels her soul charged
with this mysterious influence, how kindly and joyously and lovingly all
are embraced!--father, mother, brothers, sisters, friends.

Sarah had only her father; and when her heart began to fructify and
expand, all her affections expanded with it. Not that her heart had, as
yet, any object to rest on. By no means. But the time had come. There
was no resisting _it_, any more than resistance may be predicated of the
green leaf, which _must_ put forth in the spring, bringing bud and
flower and fruit after it. Yet, I repeat, Sarah Burns was unconscious,
actually and absolutely unconscious. Do not suppose sh