y a
word fitly spoken, and others have gone down and been lost forever, from
yielding to the thought that none cared for them, either for their weal
or woe. There is not a day, nor an hour, but that somewhere throughout
the length and breadth of the land, large sums of money are expended for
charitable objects, and yet there are those who, for the want of a
friendly hand to aid them to follow the right way, have crept away, and
rid themselves of a life that had become insupportable. Persons of
sensitive feelings, wounded by the indifference of those, who, from
their professions, they should, expect only sympathy and forbearance,
have suffered and died, and "gave no sign." This is a world of misery,
and the few who know nothing of its trials, should thank God that they
have been kept from an experimental knowledge of what life really is to
thousands of their fellow-creatures, who, like themselves, are
accountable beings, and with the same capacity for enjoyment or
suffering. Indeed, none of us are always happy. We all have our hours of
trial, when even the strongest-hearted will falter, and the dreamless
slumber of the grave seem so sweet to our world-weary spirits. When it
seems so hard to say, "Thy will be done," perhaps Death enters and robs
us of some earthly idol. We see the dear one droop and die. It may be
some dear, innocent babe God has transplanted. We watch its tiny life go
out; see the sweet mouth quiver with the dying struggle, the strained,
eager gaze mutely asking relief that we cannot give. We try to think it
is well, but in place of submission, there are rebellious thoughts. Yes,
we have all striven and suffered, groping, mayhap, in the darkness of
unbelief. God, give us strength to resist and conquer! But,

"Never so closely does pain fold its wings,
But the white robe of sympathy's near it,
And each tear that the dark hand of misery wrings,
Brings the touch of a blessing to cheer it."

"Courage! weary-hearted one;" God knows what is the best for us in this
life, and has promised a glorious reward for those who are faithful, in
that life which is to come.

Mrs. Vaughn, the lady who had engaged Clemence's services, was a widow
in affluent circumstances. She spent but little time with her children,
leaving them to the care of the nurse and governess. She rarely entered
the school-room, and even when she did honor Clemence with her presence,
paused long enough to give her more than a