layed upon the fresh landscape, as
bright and somber imaginings sweep over a youthful heart; and as the
young clergyman drank in all the glory and loveliness of the scene, his
soul was filled with a rapture, which none can ever know but the earnest
Christian, who sees in every bud and leaf the evidences of a beneficent
Father's love.

Long he sat reveling in that unbroken quietness and beauty, nor did he
perceive the soft footsteps of his mother, until a gentle hand was laid
upon his brow, and she said, "My son, I am glad you have returned; poor
Sam Lisle has been twice for you to visit his daughter, who can not
survive through the day. He seemed greatly distressed on not finding
you, and begged me to send you immediately to them when I should see
you."

"I can not stop, now, dear mother," said he, as she pressed him to
remain but one moment for refreshments. "I fear I am already too late,"
and he turned quickly away from the contemplation of the glories of
nature, and passed again through the silent avenue, and on to the
village, to wrestle with the sorrows of this weary life, where there was
poverty, and suffering, and death.

CHAPTER VIII.

Who that saw the little Jennie on the first Sunday morning, in her
summer home, would have imagined that but a few months before she was
sweeping the dirty crossings of Broadway, a thin, meager, half-clad
child, scorned by the passers-by, and loved only by two wretched ones,
as pitiable and unsought as herself!

As Mrs. Dunmore, at early dawn, entered the pleasant room, once Bella's,
but now appropriated to the newly-found, the child lay with her dimpled
arms thrown over her head, upon the soft pillows, and her sweet mouth
half parted with a smile at some innocent but illusive fancy that filled
her happy dreams.

Old Nannie had stolen into the chamber, and stood peeping over the
shoulder of her mistress at her young charge. She had put her finger
upon her lip, as if to hush her to deeper slumbers, when, suddenly, a
glad sunbeam shot from the east, and fell upon the sleeper's face. With
one bound she freed herself from the bedclothes, and stood by the
window, pointing toward the glorious vision that had so long been hidden
from her sight. Never had she seen the blessed sun rise since a wee
child of four years, in the home of her birth, which had almost from
that early age been the possession of strangers, and now, as she stood
in her simple night-dress, with her lon