aser, the Steward, a smart lad of
eighteen, was cleaning out the cabin. The boards felt cold and wet, and
Flora, who was anxious to see all she could of the coast of Scotland,
hurried upon deck, where she found her husband up before her, conversing
with the Captain.

The _Anne_, with all her white sails set, was scudding before a
favourable wind, which whistled aloft strange solemn anthems in the
shrouds. The sun had just climbed above the mountain-heights, that
formed a glorious background to the blue glancing waters, over which the
ship glided like a thing of life. It was a splendid July morning, and
the white-crested billows flashed and rolled their long sparkling surges
beneath a sky of cloudless brilliancy. All nature glowed with life and
beauty, as land and sea looked up rejoicingly, to hail the broad, open
eye of day.

"Twas heaven above--around--below."

The romantic features of the coast, with all the poetical and historical
associations connected with it, the deep music of ocean, the very smell
of the salt brine, filled the heart of Flora Lyndsay with hope and joy.
To have gazed upon such a soul-stirring scene with a mind burdened with
painful regrets, would have been an act of impiety towards the
bountiful Creator, whose presence is never more fully recognised than
when following the course that His wisdom has shaped out for us across
that pathless wilderness of waves,--that wonderful mirror of His power,
that, whether in storm or shine, faithfully reflects the glory and
greatness of its Maker.

With returning health and spirits, Flora's mind recovered its former
tone. She felt not only contented, but happy, and submitted herself with
child-like confidence to the protecting care of the universal Father.

All, doubtless, she thought, is ordained for the best. If not for us,
for our children. Others have toiled for us; it is but right that we
should toil in our turn. It is to the workers, not to the dreamers, that
earth opens up her treasures. Life is beset with trials, take which path
we may. The brightest sky at times is darkened by clouds; the calmest
ocean vexed with storms. What matters it that we are called upon to bear
the burden and heat of the day, if we receive the reward of our labours
at night? If the sunset be fair and peaceful, who recals the tempest
that darkened the heavens at noon? The quiet grave receives all at last;
and those who have worked hardest on earth, will find a brighter mo