orld was free
of its monster. Beneath her shone the crescent moon, whose horns were
sharp as swords. Rays of blessing, streaming from her hands, revealed
the Mother of grace and of all benefaction.

Opposite, her apotheosis. A chariot of clouds was bearing her to her
throne in heaven; the loving head was shining with a light that paled
the stars above her; far down were the crags of earth, the fearful
precipices that lead the weary and adventurous toiler to at last but
narrow prospects. Far away now the conquered Devil, and the conquered
world,--the foot was withdrawn from destructions,--the writhing of the
Enemy was felt now no more.

The organist had bought these pictures for her wall when she had paid
her first month's board in this her present abiding-place.

Towards the centre of the room stood her piano, an instrument of finest
tone, whose incasing you would not be likely to admire or observe.

White matting covered the floor. Heaps of music were upon the table and
the piano. There were few books to indicate the taste or studies of the
owner beside these sheets and volumes of music, and they were
everywhere. All that ever was written for organ or piano seemed to have
found its way in at the door of that chamber.

On a pedestal in the window stood an orange-tree, whose blossoms filled
the room with their bright, soft sweetness; a Parian vase held a bouquet
of flowers, gathered, none could question whether for the woman whose
room they decorated.

One window of this room looked out on a busy street, another into the
church-yard, a third upon the sea: not so remote the sea but one could
hear the breaking of its waves, and watch its changing glory.

Thus she had for "influences" the loneliness of the grave,--for the
church-yard was filled with monuments of a past generation,--the
solitude of the ocean, and the busy street. Was she so involved in
duties, or in cares, as to be unmindful of all these diverse tongues
that told their various story in that lofty and lonely apartment of the
old stone house?

Into the church, equally old and gray, covered with ivy, shadowed even
to the roof by the vast branching and venerable trees, she now
went,--and was not too early. The boys were growing restless, though it
needed but the sound of her coming to reduce them all to silence: when
they saw her enter the church-door, they all went down quietly to their
places, opened their books, and no one could mistake their aspect