e no reason to be
grateful, even for that time of darkness and sorrow? Do you remember how
the black clouds came yesterday, and quite hid the sun from our sight,
and the strong wind shook the house, so that we were almost afraid of
its fury, and the heavy rain fell and bowed some of our beauteous shrubs
nearly to the ground; then the clouds passed away and the sun shone more
brightly than ever, and the fierce winds were hushed, and the shrubs
lifted up their drooping heads all the more graceful and lovely for the
crushing storm. So it is when God sends trials and sufferings upon
us--the world looks black and dreary, and we are bowed very low in our
affliction, and His purpose in it all is to make our hearts better and
purer, and more beauteous in His sight when the troubles shall have
passed away."

"Did the world seem very dismal to you, dear mamma, when Bella died?"

"Very dismal, my child, until God sent me another little daughter to
lighten the grief that was pressing me down; now the clouds are parting,
and the sunlight comes beaming through, and I think we may be very
happy, my darling, if we will. But here comes Mr. Colbert. Let us go to
meet him, he used to love dear Bella, and will be glad to see you, I
know."

CHAPTER VII.

Mr. Colbert was the clergyman of the parish and lived near Mrs. Dunmore
with his widowed mother, and often, as he took his daily walk, he bent
his steps toward the cottage of his friend whom he had known in her joys
and her sorrows, and from whose subdued and Christian conversation he
derived both pleasure and profit. He had baptized and buried her little
Bella, and now as he gave Mrs. Dunmore a kind and earnest greeting, he
looked with painful interest upon the child who stood modestly by her
side, and in whom he traced a striking resemblance to the departed. Mrs.
Dunmore instantly perceiving the impression made upon him, hastened to
present her young _protegee_, saying, "You have doubtless noticed how
like my sweet Bella, the child of my adoption is in feature and
expression--I trust to you, my dear sir, to aid me in trying to make her
as truly like her in heart and life. It is a weighty responsibility that
I have assumed; but He who directed the impulse to make her my own, will
impart the strength and wisdom to guide her aright."

"You do me honor in admitting me to a participation in your new and
sacred duties, dear madam," replied the clergyman, "be assured, I shall
most