dy. But what was his state morally,
mentally, religiously before God! Recollect, the man had never had a
check in his whole career before. The circumstances of his childhood
served rather to give strength and firmness to his nature. The sudden
failure and death of his benefactor only threw him the more on his own
resources, with which he was amply provided. His plans had been
successful. His friends were many. His hopes for the future were large,
yet not unreasonable; while on all sides, as we have said, he was
regarded as _the_ man of the community in which he lived.

Joel had scarcely time for reflection, after the death of his wife,
before his child was taken ill, and ere she was really out of danger, he
himself was stricken down. All that long, weary time, during days and
nights of fever and delirium, of exhaustion and weakness, of
convalescence and recovery, the whisper of his dying wife was constantly
heard:

'Joel, we have not lived right! Do you think we have lived right, Joel?'

'_Lived right_!' What did that mean? Was Joel Burns a dishonest man? Was
he not kind-hearted, generous, loving toward his wife, affectionate to
his child, charitable and public-spirited?

'_Lived right_.' Joel had answered his wife instantly, not daring then
and there to soothe her by equivocation, but replying truthfully out of
his soul: 'No, oh! no.' What did he mean by that? Of what did he stand
convicted, and wherefore? These were the thoughts which occupied his
mind, especially after the fever had left him, during the long weeks of
his recovery. Joel was a man of extraordinary perceptive faculties. The
situation in which he had been placed, the remarkable health which he
had enjoyed, (for he had never been ill in his life,) and the success
which had attended every plan and effort, served to still more develop
all his practical talents, and were at the same time unfavorable to
reflection or serious thought. Now he could do nothing else but reflect
and think. He looked about him. His wife was gone, and his happiness
wrecked. What was he to do? Should he make haste to push on the schemes
which his sickness had brought to a stand? The idea was loathsome to
him. He had seen how completely they were liable to interruption and
blight. The thought of his daughter was the only comfort left, but she
might be taken--then _what_?

Ah! Joel Burns! how long and wide you searched to answer that question
when the answer was so near at hand an