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We left her, happy each in each, and Edith had welcomed my short wooing of then,

her, As tho' the happiness of each in each | And all her sweet self-sacrifice and death. Were not enough, must fain have torrents, lakes,

Henceforth that mystic bond betwixt Hills, the great things of Nature and the

the twins — fair,

Did I not tell you they were twins? To lift us as it were from commonplace,

prevail'd And help us to our joy. Better have | So far that no caress could win my wife sent

Back to that passionate answer of full Our Edith thro' the glories of the earth, heart To change with her horizon, if true Love I had from her at first. Not that her Were not his own imperial all-in-all.

love, Far off we went. " My God, I would Tho' scarce as great as Edith's power of not live

love, • Save that I think this gross hard-seeming Had lessen'd, but the mother's garrulous world

wail Is our misshaping vision of the Powers Forever woke the unhappy Past again, Behind the world, that make our griefs Till that dead bridesmaid, meant to be our gains.

my bride,

Put forth cold hands between us, and I For on the dark night of our marriage

fear'd day

The very fountains of her life were The great Tragedian, that had quench'd chill’d; herself

So took her thence, and brought her In that assumption of the bridesmaid —

here, and here she

She bore a child, whom reverently we That loved me - our true Edith - her callid brain broke

Edith; and in the second year was born With over-acting, till she rose and filed A second — this I named from her own Beneath a pitiless rush of Autumn rain

self, To the deaf church — to be let in - to Evelyn ; then two weeks - 10 more

she joined, Before that altar - so I think; and there In and beyond the grave, that one she They found her beating the hard Prot

loved. estant doors.

Now in this quiet of declining life, She died and she was buried ere we knew. Thro' dreams by night and trances of the

day, I learnt it first. I had to speak. At The sisters glide about me band in hand, once

| Both beautiful alike, nor can I tell The bright quick smile of Evelyn, that One from the other, no, por care to tell had sunn'd

One from the other, only know they The morning of our marriage, passed

come, away:

They smile upon me, till, remembering And on our home-return the daily want

all Of Edith in the house, the garden, still The love they both have borne me, and Haunted us like her ghost; and by and the love I by,

I bore them both - divided as I am Either from that necessity for talk | From either by the stillness of the Which lives with blindness, or plain in-. grave nocence

I know not which of these I love the Of nature, or desire that her lost child

best. Should earn from both the praise of heroism,

| But you love Edith; and her own true The mother broke her promise to the dead,

Are traitors to her; our quick Evelyn And told the living daughter with what | The merrier, prettier, wittier, as they love



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3 Lard. 1 Ungainly, awkward.

* A cry accompanied by a clapping of hands to 2 Emigrate.

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And mangle the living dog that had loved | Nay you remember our Emmie ; you used him and fawn'd at his knee

to send her thu flowers; Drench'd with the hellish oorali — that How she would smile at 'em, play with ever such things should be !

'em, talk to 'em hours after hours !

They that can wander at will where the II.

works of the Lord are reveal'd

Little guess what joy can be got from a Here was a boy - I am sure that some

cowslip out of the field ; of our children would die

Flowers to these “spirits in prison ” are But for the voice of Love, and the smile,

all they can know of the spring, and the comforting eye

They freshen and sweeten the wards like Here was a boy in the ward, every bone

the waft of an Angel's wing ; seem'd out of its place

And she lay with a flower in one hand and Caught in a mill and crush'd - it was all

her thin hands crost on her breastbut a hopeless case :

Wan, but as pretty as heart can desire, And he handled him gently enough ; but

and we thought her at rest, his voice and his face were not Quietly sleeping - so quiet, our doctor kind,

said "Poor little dear, And it was but a hopeless case, he had Nurse, I must do it to-morrow; she 'll seen it and made up his mind,

never live thro' it, I fear.” And he said to me roughly, “ 'The lad

will need little more of your care." All the more need,” I told him, "to

seek the Lord Jesus in prayer; I walk'd with our kindly old doctor as They are all his children here, and I pray

far as the head of the stair, for them all as my own :". Then I return’d to the ward ; the child But he turn’d to me, “ Ay, good woman,

did n't see I was there. can prayer set a broken bone?” Then he mutter'd half to himself, but I know that I heard him say

VI. “ All very well — but the good Lord Never since I was nurse, had I been so Jesus has had his day,'

grieved and so vext!

Emmie had heard him. Softly she callid III.

from her cot to the next, Had ? has it come? It has only dawn'd.

| “He says I shall never live thro' it, O It will come by and by

Annie, what shall I do?O how could I serve in the wards if the

Annie consider'd. “If I,” said the wise hope of the world were a lie ?

little Annie,“ was you, How could I bear with the sights and

I should cry to the dear Lord Jesus to the loathsome smells of disease.

help me, for, Emmie, you see, But that He said “Ye do it to me, when

It's all in the picture there: Little ye do it to these?

children should come to me.'” –

(Meaning the print that you gave us, I IV.

find that it always can please

Our children, the dear Lord Jesus with So he went. And we past to this ward

children about his knees.) where the younger children are | “Yes, and I will," said Emmie, “but laid :

then if I call to the Lord, Here is the cot of our orphan, our dar- | How should he know that it's me ? such ling, our meek little maid;

a lot of beds in the ward !” Empty you see just now! We have lost | That was a puzzle for Annie. Again she her who loved her so much —

consider'd and said :Patient of pain tho' as quick as a sensitive “Emmie, you put out your arms, and plant to the touch ;

you leave 'em outside on the bed Hers was the prettiest prattle, it often The Lord has so much to see to ! but, moved me to tears,

Emmie, you tell it him plain, Hers was the gratefullest heart I have It 's the little girl with her arms lying found in a child of her years

out on the counterpane."

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