e latent life:
and yet the lower instincts were duly subordinated to the higher, and
dignified self-control ordered her deportment. Somehow, according to
the doctrine of the wise Jacob Boehme, the fierce, hungry fire had
met in embrace the meek, cool water, and was bringing to birth
the pleasant light-flame of love. The transformation, though not
perfected, was fairly begun.

Partly I could see how this change had been wrought. Ill health, pain,
disappointment, care, had tamed her spirits. A wide range through
the romantic literature of ancient and modern times had exalted
while expending her passions. In the world of imagination, she had
discharged the stormful energy which would have been destructive in
actual life. And in thought she had bound herself to the mast while
sailing past the Sirens. Through sympathy, also, from childhood, with
the tragi-comedy of many lives around her, she had gained experience
of the laws and limitations of providential order. Gradually, too, she
had risen to higher planes of hope, whence opened wider prospects of
destiny and duty. More than all, by that attraction of opposites
which a strong will is most apt to feel, she had sought, as chosen
companions, persons of scrupulous reserve, of modest coolness,
and severe elevation of view. Finally, she had been taught, by a
discipline specially fitted to her dispositions, to trust the leadings
of the Divine Spirit. The result was, that at this period Margaret had
become a Mystic. Her prisoned emotions found the freedom they pined
for in contemplation of nature's exquisite harmonies,--in poetic
regards of the glory that enspheres human existence, when seen as a
whole from beyond the clouds,--and above all in exultant consciousness
of life ever influent from the All-Living.

A few passages from, her papers will best illustrate this proneness to
rapture.

'My tendency is, I presume, rather to a great natural than
to a deep religious life. But though others may be more
conscientious and delicate, few have so steady a faith in
Divine Love. I may be arrogant and impetuous, but I am never
harsh and morbid. May there not be a mediation, rather than a
conflict, between piety and genius? Greek and Jew, Italian and
Saxon, are surely but leaves on one stern, at last.'

* * * * *

'I am in danger of giving myself up to experiences till
they so steep me in ideal passion that the desir