Year: 1860

q tremendous summons TO Tea, Wnen al
together they pour in Aock-wise, without
turning to the right or left" III


"Have you forgotten the memory, Hell
en-"


"Of course not, Mary; l am getting to it
My father gone and few days passed,
awoke all at once to full, startling sense
! of desolation. At home I had been pettee
child, governed only by my mothers voice
and caresses. Being, also, wholly unused
to self-dependence, my hands were as power
less as my heart desolate. It was MOI
strange, under the circumstances, that great
mother-want soon filled my heart; but il
was strange that it did not pass away, al
childish sorrow is apt; was strange how il
grew into utter wretchedness-how it scald
ed my face with tears almost hourly by day
and how the unconscious hours of nigh
caught away my spirit in a brief storm o.
shivering, in drawn breaths, which breathed
out again, left it calm till the ''risiug bell''
smote all slumbers, and the real hours
smote my calm. With the day all scenes
and sounds became for me, emptiness and
a void, for there was no mother in them.
Thusit continued for more than three
weeks. I was dubbed the crying child
and had quite worn out the patience of my
classmates, and all others who would have
consoled me. I also grew uneasy in their
presence, and avoided all intercourse with
them. The best respite I had was long
walk in the direction of home; but my
steps had soon to be retraced, and my back
turned upon home and mother. By this
necessity my heart seemed utterly cut of
from the only object to which it could cling,
to return upon itself in aching wretched.
ness.


1t was late one Saturday evening, when,
after returning from that lonely walk,
I sat down on the topmost step of the long
flight which led into the first-story piazza.
I had bathed my eyes and now sat there
silent and wearied-would have fallen asleep
in moment, if my mothers lap had
been near to receive my head; but the
brick pillow which it fell against, stopped
farther uodding, and served only its turn to
pierce that deep-set consciousness of 'no
mother The evening promenade was be-
gun, and something in the scene lulled me
into forgetfulness The confusion of sweet
and merry faces was greater than usual that
evening; the throng denser; the passing
and repassing, quicker; the tide of spirits,
gladder and higher. I watched the scene
intensely. I saw every face, till on sud-
den came meao one I thought I had seen
all ; but here were unknown dark eyes, very
full of serene beauty, which surprised me
most, however, by alighting steadily upon
my own face. They fingered, too, as if
unwilling to withdraw before they blessed ;
and the soft brown locks that framed the
wide open brow, and that unhastipg step,
so unmindful of the rapid ones around her
twas all so like my mother. Thereby
'no mother 'no mother again filed every
crevice of my heart with its relentless moan.
Burying my face in my hands, I wept aloud.


A moment afterwards crowd of girls
were around me with eager soothing in
quiries. But their sympathy was without
the pacific element; for the quick constraint
of pride held me up to myself in the light
of an intruder upon their happiness, and
made me feel like an unwilling beggar with
pities all around me. 1t was during this
moment of concentrated darkness when she
came-I knew not who-and down, softly
as dew upon the grass, came the first touch
es of an embrace that fingered so just while
she spake three little words-"Come with
me-" They entered my ear with a ze-
phyr's softness. Then the same embrace
was but strengthened to lift me upon my
feet, and guide me from the thronged pi-
azza.


When in her little chamber, with the
same'kind right to act for me, she drew me
into closer embrace removed my hands
from my face; and with motherly care
wiped off all the tears, and Stroked back my
hair with the gentlest finger touches
Then she spoke these very words, Mary !;
they writ themselves indellibly, as they fell
from her lips into my soul:


81 know from experience how desolate
you feel. I heard some girls speak of you,
to day, at the dinner table; and I resolved
to find you, and make you happier. You
shall not feel such sorrow again, if I can
help it."


Who was she, whose embrace, gentle
touches and motherly words filled me with
such an indefnable comfort-almost joy :?
My eyes could remain downcast no longer;
but leapt up to look full in the face, the be.
ing whose augel-like presence so completely
filed my soul. There she was, clear and
distinct as the evening star, before my won
dering eyes. Mary, I wholly forgot, in
that long untroublea look, my mother want.
For her large dark eyes, her wide calm
brow, her tearfully spiritual smile, her face
in which tears and smiles dwelt together in
perfect harmony, and even for the soft
brown locks that lay so smoothly around
that serene brow, 1 felt that my eyes, which
had only been looking thirteen years, rest
ed already upon the perfection of good.
ness-which is beauty-that but grew
clearer in grace and statue as her words,
winning and pure as the cliuging South
wind, fell into my heart as rain into flower
cups; fell and shook it with trembling,
gladdening emotions.


She asked me my name about my home;
my mother and my little brothers; all of
which I answered gladly, though their SUBJ
ject matter had hitherto been the cause of
all my grief. I broke the first waiting 81