whose passion
Is for a world's renown,
Not in a form of fashion,
Cometh a blessing down.

Not unto land's expansion,
Not to the miser's chest,
Not to the princely mansion,
Not to the blazoned crest,
Not to the sordid worldling,
Not to the knavish clown,
Not to the haughty tyrant,
Cometh a blessing down.

Not to the folly-blinded,
Not to the steeped in shame,
Not to the carnal-minded,
Not to unholy fame;
Not in neglect of duty,
Not in the monarch's crown,
Not at the smile of beauty,
Cometh a blessing down.

But to the one whose spirit
Yearns for the great and good;
Unto the one whose storehouse
Yieldeth the hungry food;
Unto the one who labours,
Fearless of foe or frown;
Unto the kindly-hearted,
Cometh a blessing down.

THE DARKENED PATHWAY.

"TO some the sky is always bright, while to others it is never free
from clouds. There is to me a mystery in this--something that looks
like a partial Providence--for those who grope sadly through life in
darkened paths are, so far as human judgment can determine, often
purer and less selfish than those who move gayly along in perpetual
sunshine. Look at Mrs. Adair. It always gives me the heart-ache to
think of what she has endured in life, and still endures. Once she
was surrounded by all that wealth could furnish of external good;
now she is in poverty, with five children, clinging to her for
support, her health feeble, and few friends to counsel or lend her
their aid. No woman could have loved a husband more tenderly than
she loved hers, and few wives were ever more beloved in return; but
she has gathered the widow's weeds around her, and is sitting in the
darkness of an inconsolable grief. What a sweet character was hers!
Always loving and unselfish--a very angel on the earth from
childhood upwards, and yet her doom to tread this darkened pathway!
If Heaven smiles on the good--if the righteous are never forsaken,
why this strange, hard, harsh Providence in the case of Mrs. Adair?
I cannot understand it! God is goodness itself, they say, and loves
His creatures with a love surpassing the love of a mother; but would
any mother condemn beloved child to such a cruel fate? No, no, no!
From the very depths of my spirit I answer--No! I am only a weak,
erring, selfish creature, but--"

Mrs. Endicott checked the utterance of what was in her thought, for
at the instant another