and terrified, the child looked at her and began to
cry. She never forgot that scene, nor the words of the pale
lady in black, who so loved the sea and its loud roar, and who
had started so violently and shrieked so wildly, when she had
struck her playfellow.

Of Alice! What shall I say of Alice? What did she once say of
her favourite flower, her type and her emblem, for it bore in
its bosom the Cross and the Crown of Thorns, and it was pure
and spotless as those that

"Won Eve's matron smile in the world's opening glow."

She said it had done what God had sent it into the world to
do. It had given her buds in the spring, and flowers in the
summer; thoughts of joy in health, thoughts of peace in
sickness, thoughts of God and of Christ always. Alice has gone
and done likewise. She goes about doing good. She weeps with
those who weep, she rejoices with those who rejoice, she feeds
the hungry, she clothes the naked, she visits the sick and
those in prison, she teaches the ignorant, she prays for the
guilty. Into the haunts of misery, into the abodes of despair,
she goes; and speaks of peace where peace has never been, and
of hope to those in whose ears the words sound strangely.
"When the ear hears her it blesses her; when the eye sees her
it gives witness to her; and the blessings of those who are
ready to perish come upon her. She is eyes to the blind, and
feet to the lame, a mother to the fatherless, and to those who
have none to help them."

Morning and evening she kneels in church, and, like Anna,
serves the Lord with fastings and with prayers. There she
takes up the cross in the morning, bears it through the day,
and returns at night to give thanks, and press it to her bosom
with all its thorns and all its sharpness.

Is she happy? I have studied her face; I have watched her
life; I have seen her pray by a death-bed; I have heard her
sing to herself as she sat at work in her room; I have seen
her play with joyous children; I have seen her weave garlands
of bright flowers, but then I saw her lay them on a grave--and
I dare not say she is happy; but I know she is of those who,
if they mourn, shall be comforted; who, if they sow in tears,
shall reap in joy; and I remember that a sword pierced through
the soul of her whom all generations call blessed.

There is a man who goes every day to the same church, who
sometimes supports an aged woman, and leads her gently to the
bench where Alice sits; who kneels h