thought, rebuking her for an impious
comparison of herself with her Maker, flitted across her mind. Yes,
she was about drawing a Parallel between herself and a Being of
infinite wisdom and love, unfavourable to the latter!

The sky of Mrs. Endicott had not always been free from clouds. Many
times had she walked in darkness; and why this was so ever appeared
as one of the mysteries of life, for her self-explorations had never
gone far enough to discover those natural evils, the existence of
which only a state of intense mental suffering would manifest to her
deeper consciousness. But all she had yet been called to endure,
was, she freely acknowledged, light in comparison to what poor Mrs.
Adair had suffered, and was suffering daily--and the case of this
friend gave her a strong argument against the wisdom and justice of
that Power in the hands of which the children of men are as clay in
the hands of the potter.

Even while Mrs. Endicott thus questioned and doubted, a domestic
opened the door of the room in which she was sitting, and said,

"Mrs. Adair is in the parlour."

"Is she? Say that I will be down in a moment."

Mrs. Endicott felt a little surprised at the coincidence of her
thought of her friend and that friend's appearance. It was another
of those life-mysteries into which her dull eyes could not
penetrate, and gave new occasion for dark surmises in regard to the
Power above all, in all, and ruling all. With a sober face, as was
befitting an interview with one so deeply burdened as Mrs. Adair,
she went down to the parlour.

"My dear friend!" she said, tenderly, almost sadly, as she took the
hand of her visiter.

Into the eyes of Mrs. Adair she looked earnestly for the glittering
tear-veil, and upon her lips for the grief curve. To her surprise
neither were there; but a cheerful light in the former and a gentle
smile on the latter.

"How are you this morning?"

Mrs. Endicott's voice was low and sympathizing.

"I feel a little stronger, to-day, thank you," answered Mrs. Adair,
smiling as she spoke.

"How is your breast?"

"Still very tender."

"And the pain in your side."

"I am not free from that a moment."

Still she smiled as she answered. There was not even a touch of
sadness or despondency in her voice.

"Not free a moment! How do you bear it?"

"Happily--as I often say to myself--I have no time to think about
the pain," replied Mrs. Adair, cheerfully. "It is wonderful how
mental acti