eyes, were quiet in their gaze. She had evidently
learned to curb emotion and regret--the past for her was a sealed
book, with all its remembrances; she was a woman without her sex's
loveliest impulses--a sister without tenderness, a daughter without
gratitude. They parted, as they had met, each unconvinced, each
grieving for the other--the visiter returned to her holy filial
duties, the devotee to her loneliness. My friend, on which of these
sisters do the angels in heaven look down most rejoicingly? This scene
made me sorrowful, as every thing does which destroys an illusion. I
had entertained such romantic ideas of life in the cloister, it seemed
so tempting to me in its rest, its spirituality; and now I realize
that we have no right to such rest, that it is not ours to shrink from
the duties, to shun the penalties, to crush the affections of
humanity--and my visions of lonely happiness have passed away _pour
toujours_. If ever I could be induced to forsake a world that now
appears to me so rich in promise; if ever I am numbered among the
tried in spirit, and broken in heart, some active solace must be mine,
not this fearful leisure for thought and remembrance. My lot is to be
a restless one; and whatever else the future may hold for me, I know,
in the spirit of prophecy, it will bestow nothing of repose. . . . .
You tell me my little sister grows every day more lovely. I can
readily believe it. There is something very fascinating in the style
of her childish beauty, something that appeals to tenderness and seeks
for love--and she is always the reality that prompts my dreams of
angels. Is it not unwise, my friend, to hold the gift of personal
beauty of little value, when it thus involuntarily commands affection,
and can win the world's charity for many faults?"

I know not if these disjointed scraps have interest for others, but I
have recorded them, because to me they recall the young writer's
glowing enthusiasm, and evince the confident hopefulness which is one
of the most common traits of mental excellence. Without being vain,
she had yet no fears for herself, no doubt of the successful exercise
of the powers whose stirring presence she felt. All that seemed
necessary to her was opportunity; and she possessed the faith our good
God gives to youth, and whose passing away is one of the sorrows of
age.

The time appointed for her return home had now arrived, and her
mother's anxiety to see her was scarcely greater