itable character. There I was called to
visit her; and, although not unused to scenes of suffering and sorrow, I
had never before witnessed such an utter abandonment to grief, shame,
and remorse. Alas! what sorrow was like unto her sorrow? The birth
hour of her infant was also that of its death.

"The agony of her spirit seemed greater than she could bear. Her eyes
were opened, and she looked upon herself with loathing and horror. She
would admit of no hope, no consolation; she would listen to no
palliation or excuse of her guilt. I could only direct her to that
Source of pardon and peace to which the broken and contrite heart never
appeals in vain.

"In the mean time Robert Barnet shipped on board a Labrador vessel. The
night before he left he called on me, and put in my hand a sum of money,
small indeed, but all he could then command.

"'You will see her often,' he said. 'Do not let her suffer; for she is
more to be pitied than blamed.'

"I answered him that I would do all in my power for her; and added, that
I thought far better of her, contrite and penitent as she was, than of
some who were busy in holding her up to shame and censure.

"'God bless you for these words!' he said, grasping my hand. 'I shall
think of them often. They will be a comfort to me.'

"As for Julia, God was more merciful to her than man. She rose from her
sick-bed thoughtful and humbled, but with hopes that transcended the
world of her suffering and shame. She no longer murmured against her
sorrowful allotment, but accepted it with quiet and almost cheerful
resignation as the fitting penalty of God's broken laws and the needed
discipline of her spirit. She could say with the Psalmist, 'The
judgments of the Lord are true, justified in themselves. Thou art just,
O Lord, and thy judgment is right.' Through my exertions she obtained
employment in a respectable family, to whom she endeared herself by her
faithfulness, cheerful obedience, and unaffected piety.

"Her trials had made her heart tender with sympathy for all in
affliction. She seemed inevitably drawn towards the sick and suffering.
In their presence the burden of her own sorrow seemed to fall off. She
was the most cheerful and sunny-faced nurse I ever knew; and I always
felt sure that my own efforts would be well seconded when I found her by
the bedside of a patient. Beautiful it was to see this poor young girl,
whom the world still looked upon with scorn and unki