s shall
Take patience, labor, to their hearts and hands,
From thy hands, and thy heart, and thy brave cheer,
And God's grace fructify through thee to all."

ELIZABETH B. BARRETT.

"While I was restless, nothing satisfied,
Distrustful, most perplexed--yet felt somehow
A mighty power was brooding, taking shape
Within me; and this lasted till one night
When, as I sat revolving it and more,
A still voice from without said,--'Seest thou not,
Desponding child, whence came defeat and loss?
Even from thy strength.'"

BROWNING.

III.

GROTON AND PROVIDENCE.

* * * * *

'Heaven's discipline has been invariable to me. The seemingly
most pure and noble hopes have been blighted; the seemingly
most promising connections broken. The lesson has been
endlessly repeated: "Be humble, patient, self-sustaining; hope
only for occasional aids; love others, but not engrossingly,
for by being much alone your appointed task can best be done!"
What a weary work is before me, ere that lesson shall be fully
learned! Who shall wonder at the stiff-necked, and rebellious
folly of young Israel, bowing down to a brute image, though
the prophet was bringing messages from the holy mountain,
while one's own youth is so obstinately idolatrous! Yet will
I try to keep the heart with diligence, nor ever fear that the
sun is gone out because I shiver in the cold and dark!'

Such was the tone of resignation in which Margaret wrote from Groton,
Massachusetts, whither, much to her regret, her father removed in the
spring of 1833. Extracts from letters and journals will show how stern
was her schooling there, and yet how constant was her faith, that

"God keeps a niche
In heaven to hold our idols! And albeit
He breaks them to our faces, and denies
That our close kisses should impair their white,
I know we shall behold them raised, complete,
The dust shook from their beauty,--glorified,
New Memnons singing in the great God-light."

SAD WELCOME HOME.

'_Groton, April_ 25, 1833.--I came hither, summoned by the
intelligence, that our poor--had met with a terrible accident.
I found the dear child,--who had left me so full of joy and
eagerness, that I thought with a sigh, not of envy, how happy
he, at least, would be here,--burning with fever. He had
expected me impatiently, and was ver