tion; but
that faith must be the true one after all," said the Squire. "They
made incursions on our folds. They took now and then a lamb, or fowl;
but how much less have they taken than enough to pay them for the good
they did. How few of us would do the same good to them for the same
small reward. We are impatient of griefs and vexations. We chafe, and
foam, and champ the bit that curbs in our passions, and reins us around
the wisest way. We think it hard that wolves should sometimes bring us
a disguised blessing. We find it difficult to discover the good design
of apparent ill. But at last we shall see how evil may issue in good.
The end will reveal the good design of all. As I understand it, evil
is the imperfection which necessarily follows our nature. The moral
difference between an imperfect world and a perfect God. The shadow of
the Tree of Life. The cloud that veils the Mercy-Seat. The sad and
the bitter, the dark and dreary, that serve but to reveal the joyful
and sweet, the bright, and glad, and beautiful.

"And we know by experience, Julia, that the evils of this world may be
turned into a high and fruitful discipline; and from that discipline we
may rise to a life of maturer powers, and more ample and energetic
character; with thriftier faith and greener hope; and clustering graces
all around the heart, of juicier pulp and rarer flavor."

XVI.

THE MINISTER.

It was now past the middle of September, and the farmers of Summerfield
had finished their fall seeding; most of them had spread their flax;
some, cut their corn, gathered their pumpkins, and dug their potatoes:
and all were enjoying a September of the soul.

Fabens was enjoying it out on his accustomed seat, beneath a favorite
shade-tree, in the green mown meadow before his home; and indulging one
of those golden reveries that rise in the autumn time. The June-like
lustre of the glowing sky; the beauty of the fields now blooming in
second verdure, like aged souls with new hopes and loves in the light
of Christianity; the affluence of orchards, dropping the burden,
diffusing the fragrance of their mellow fruit; the opulence of
woodlands, exhibiting signs of the first frost, yet still withholding
the wealth of their bright foliage; the pride of his gallant horses,
liberated from the plough, and galloping here and there, on sports of
majesty in the upland pasture; the appearance of fine cattle grazing on
the distant mead; the sig