"

JOANNA BAILLIE'S ORRA.

"The heart knoweth his own bitterness."

PROV. 14:10.

But only a few days after Mrs. Travilla's visit, an event occurred,
which, by exciting Elsie's sympathy for the sorrows of another, and thus
preventing her from dwelling so constantly upon her own, was of great
benefit to her.

Adelaide received a letter bringing tidings of the death of one who had
been very dear to her. The blow was very sudden--entirely unexpected--and
the poor girl was overwhelmed with grief, made all the harder to endure
by the want of sympathy in her family.

Her parents had indeed given their consent to the contemplated union,
but because the gentleman, though honorable, intelligent, educated and
talented, was neither rich nor high-born, they had never very heartily
approved of the connection, and were evidently rather relieved than
afflicted by his death.

Elsie was the only one who really felt deeply for her aunt; and her
silent, unobtrusive sympathy was very grateful.

The little girl seemed almost to forget her own sorrows, for the time, in
trying to relieve those of her bereaved aunt. Elsie knew--and this made
her sympathy far deeper and more heartfelt--that Adelaide had no
consolation in her sore distress, but such miserable comfort as may be
found in the things of earth. She had no compassionate Saviour to whom
to carry her sorrows, but must bear them all alone; and while Elsie was
permitted to walk in the light of his countenance, and to her ear there
ever came the soft whispers of his love--"Fear not: thou art mine"--"_I_
have loved thee with an _everlasting_ love"--"_I_ will _never_ leave thee
nor forsake thee," to Adelaide all was darkness and silence.

At first Elsie's sympathy was shown in various little kind offices;
sitting for hours beside her aunt's couch, gently fanning her, handing
her a drink of cold water, bringing her sweet-scented flowers, and
anticipating every want. But at last she ventured to speak.

"Dear Aunt Adelaide," she whispered, "I am so sorry for you. I wish I
knew how to comfort you."

"Oh, Elsie!" sobbed the mourner, "there is no comfort for me, I have lost
my dearest treasure--my all--and no one cares."

"Dear Aunt Adelaide," replied the child timidly, "it is true I am only a
little girl, but I do care very much for your grief; and surely your papa
and mamma are very sorry for you."

Adelaide shook her head mournfully. "They are more glad than sorry," she
s