s are suddenly torn
asunder, and wounds are made that never heal, or, healing, leave
hard, disfiguring scars. But this is not always so. Pure love
sometimes finds its own sweet reward. I will relate one precious
instance.

The Baron Holbein, after having passed ten years of active life in a
large metropolitan city of Europe, retired to his estate in a
beautiful and fertile valley, far away from the gay circle of
fashion--far away from the sounds of political rancor with which he
had been too long familiar--far away from the strife of selfish men
and contending interests. He had an only child, Nina, just fifteen
years of age. For her sake, as well as to indulge his love of quiet
and nature, he had retired from the world. Her mother had been with
the angels for some years. Without her wise counsels and watchful
care, the father feared to leave his innocent-minded child exposed
to the temptations that must gather around her in a large city.

For a time Nina missed her young companions, and pined to be with
them. The old castle was lonely, and the villagers did not interest
her. Her father urged her to go among the peasantry, and, as an
inducement, placed a considerable sum of money at her command, to be
used as she might see best in works of benevolence. Nina's heart was
warm, and her impulses generous. The idea pleased her, and she acted
upon it. She soon found employment enough both for her time and the
money placed at her disposal. Among the villagers was a woman named
Blanche Delebarre, a widow, whose only son had been from home since
his tenth year, under the care of an uncle, who had offered to
educate him, and fit him for a life of higher usefulness than that
of a mere peasant. There was a gentleness about this woman, and
something that marked her as superior to her class. Yet she was an
humble villager, dependent upon the labor of her own hands, and
claimed no higher station.

Nina became acquainted with Blanche soon after the commencement of
her residence at the castle. When she communicated to her the wishes
of her father, and mentioned the money that had been placed at her
disposal, the woman took her hand and said, while a beautiful light
beamed from her countenance--

"It is more blessed to give than to receive, my child. Happy are
they who have the power to confer benefits, and who do so with
willing hearts. I fear, however, that you will find your task a
difficult one. Everywhere are the idle and undes