ents, difficulties; but these
were well borne. More than once, too, they had to look on Him whose
face flesh scarce can see and live: they had to pay their tribute to
the King of Terrors. In the fulness of years, M. de Bassompierre was
taken: in ripe old age departed Louisa Bretton. Once even there rose a
cry in their halls, of Rachel weeping for her children; but others
sprang healthy and blooming to replace the lost: Dr. Bretton saw
himself live again in a son who inherited his looks and his
disposition; he had stately daughters, too, like himself: these
children he reared with a suave, yet a firm hand; they grew up
according to inheritance and nurture.

In short, I do but speak the truth when I say that these two lives of
Graham and Paulina were blessed, like that of Jacob's favoured son,
with "blessings of Heaven above, blessings of the deep that lies
under." It was so, for God saw that it was good.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

CLOUD.

But it is not so for all. What then? His will be done, as done it
surely will be, whether we humble ourselves to resignation or not. The
impulse of creation forwards it; the strength of powers, seen and
unseen, has its fulfilment in charge. Proof of a life to come must be
given. In fire and in blood, if needful, must that proof be written. In
fire and in blood do we trace the record throughout nature. In fire and
in blood does it cross our own experience. Sufferer, faint not through
terror of this burning evidence. Tired wayfarer, gird up thy loins;
look upward, march onward. Pilgrims and brother mourners, join in
friendly company. Dark through the wilderness of this world stretches
the way for most of us: equal and steady be our tread; be our cross our
banner. For staff we have His promise, whose "word is tried, whose way
perfect:" for present hope His providence, "who gives the shield of
salvation, whose gentleness makes great;" for final home His bosom, who
"dwells in the height of Heaven;" for crowning prize a glory, exceeding
and eternal. Let us so run that we may obtain: let us endure hardness
as good soldiers; let us finish our course, and keep the faith, reliant
in the issue to come off more than conquerors: "Art thou not from
everlasting mine Holy One? WE SHALL NOT DIE!"

On a Thursday morning we were all assembled in classe, waiting for the
lesson of literature. The hour was come; we expected the master.

The pupils of the first classe sat very still; the cleanly-writte