wen,
when God snatched your voice from you, He became responsible; and your
claims are like the ravens and sparrows, and He must provide. After
all, it matters little where we are housed here in the clay, and
Hobbs was astute when he selected for the epitaph on his tombstone,
'This is the true philosopher's stone.' Home! Ah, if I sadly missed my
heart's home, here in the flesh, I shall surely find it up yonder in
the blessed land of blue."

A tear glided down her cheek, glistened an instant on her chin, and
fell on her pattern. She brushed it away, and smiled sorrowfully,--

"It is ill-omened to sprinkle bridal lace with tears. Some day this
fine web will droop around a bride's white shoulders and after a time
it may serve to deck the cold limbs of some dead child. If I could
only have my shroud now, I would not make lace a _desideratum_; serge
or sackcloth would be welcome. Patience,--

... 'What if the bread
Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod
To meet the flints? At least it may be said,
Because the way is _short_, I thank thee, God!'"

She partially rose in her chair, and took from the table a volume of
poems. After some search, she found the desired passage, and, rocking
herself to and fro, she read it aloud in a low, measured tone,--

"O dreary life! we cry, 'O dreary life!'
And still the generations of the birds
Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and herds
Serenely live, while we are keeping strife
With heaven's true purpose in us, as a knife
Against which we may struggle! Ocean girds
Unslackened the dry land, savannah-swards
Unweary sweep,--hills watch unworn; and rife
Meek leaves drop yearly from the forest-trees,
To show above the unwasted stars that pass
In their old glory. '_O thou God of old,
Grant me some smaller grace than comes to these!
But even so much patience, as a blade of grass
Grows by, contented through the heat and cold._'"

The book slipped from her fingers and fell upon the floor, and with a
sob the girl bowed her head in her hands.

Quickly the intruder glided unseen into the room, and stood at the
back of her chair.

He knew she was praying, and almost breathlessly waited several
minutes.

At last she raised her face, and while tears trembled on her lashes,
she said meekly,--

"I ought not to complain and repine. I will be patient and trust God;
for I can afford to suffer all through time, provided I may spend
eter