ou sit down and talk
with me a few minutes?"

Gertrude hesitated.

"Do not refuse; I am an old man, and very harmless. Take a seat here
under this tree, and tell me what you think of the prospect."

Gertrude smiled inwardly at the idea of his being such an old man, and
calling her a child; but, old or young, she had it not in her heart to
fear him, or refuse his request. She sat down, and he seated himself
beside her, but did not speak of the prospect, or of anything, for a
moment or two; then turning to her abruptly, he said, "So you never were
unhappy in your life?"

"Never?" exclaimed Gertrude. "Oh, yes; often."

"But never long?"

"Yes, I can remember whole years when happiness was a thing I had never
even dreamed of."

"But comfort came at last. What do you think of those to whom it never
comes?"

"I know enough of sorrow to pity and wish to help them."

"What can you do for them?"

"_Hope_ for them--_pray_ for them!" said Gertrude, with a voice full of
feeling.

"What if they be past hope--beyond the influence of prayer?"

"There are no such," said Gertrude, with decision.

"Do you see," said Mr. Phillips, "this curtain of thick clouds, now
overshadowing the world? Even so many a heart is weighed down and
overshadowed by thick and impenetrable darkness."

"But the light shines brightly above the clouds," said Gertrude.

"Above! well, that may be; but what avails it to those who see it not?"

"It is sometimes a weary and toilsome road that leads to the
mountain-top; but the pilgrim is well repaid for the trouble which
brings him _above the clouds_," replied Gertrude, with enthusiasm.

"Few ever find the road that leads so high," responded her melancholy
companion; "and those who do cannot live long in so elevated an
atmosphere. They must come down from their height, and again dwell among
the common herd; again mingle in the warfare with the mean, the base,
and the cruel."

"But they have seen the glory; they know that the light is ever burning
on high, and will have faith to believe it will pierce the gloom at
last. See, see," said she, her eyes glowing with the fervour with which
she spoke--"even now the heaviest clouds are parting; the sun will soon
light up the valley!"

She pointed as she spoke to a wide fissure which was gradually
disclosing itself, as the hitherto solid mass of clouds separated on
either side, and then turned to the stranger to see if he observed the
change; but, wit