ction of your own soul, or can
it be that such as she has indeed been amongst us?"

"She has been, and has passed away!--has passed away," he repeated to
himself; "I never thought to meet her again until the dark river had
been crossed! but what do I see?" and he passed his hand over his eyes,
as if to assure himself that he were not dreaming.

No, it was no dream; a gentle, living form stood before him who had
sorrowed for his only child nearly twenty long years, and was devoutly
regarding those inanimate features to which his soul had clung, as if it
were of life; and his eye now wandered from the animate to the
inanimate,--the beauteous countenance of the Madonna. It was not unlike
that of the Sea-flower; the features were the same. Regaining his
composure, the artist proceeded, in a peculiarly mellow tone of voice--

"Dear lady, you will pardon my seemingly ill-mannered reception of you,
I know, when you have heard what has never yet passed my lips to any
mortal! Near twenty years have expired since I left my cherished home,
on the other side of the Atlantic, and came to America. I met with
sorrow at an early age; the young wife of my choice was taken from me,
and I should have been overwhelmed with grief, had not the precious boon
left to me by her, claimed my heart-felt love; the beautiful babe smiled
upon me, and I felt rebuked in spirit that I should thus murmur at God's
will, when in his loving kindness he had spared to me this, her very
likeness, and I came to smile again. I could then smile upon his
chastening rod, but,"--and a deep shudder thrilled his frame, "I have
since been led to ask myself if there is a God! O! can a good God thus
afflict his children?"

"Pause, sir, I beseech you, ere you give utterance to such dreadful
thoughts! Think of the countless mercies which you have received at his
hand,--weigh them well in a balance with your sorrows, whatever they may
have been, and you will find the measure of your blessings tenfold."

"Your words are as balm to my calloused heart; yet listen to me, and
judge if my cruel fate would not engender a dark distrust in a purer
heart than mine. My child grew in strength and beauty,--grew to be like
her who had left us; she was the pride of my luxuriant home, the main
spring of my life! Yes, I could realize it then, while I could yet gaze
upon her face and dream of heaven; but other days drew near. It was in
her twentieth year when my Natalie knelt before the