How unaccountable are our sudden changes of
mood! You have now thrown over me your own spirit of peaceful repose
and contentment. Good-night, and think you!"
"Well, I am content, entirely content," soliloquized Mary Clinton,
when the loved form of the child of her heart had disappeared. "To
try to bless another, how richly does the blessing fall back upon my
own soul! Yes! I have my joys. Why am I ever so ungrateful as to
murmur at aught that befalls me? I am blest--a sunshine is breaking
over the tender earth for me; all clouds are gone." With feelings
much changed from what they were a few months previous, Mary Clinton
sought the window, and with loving and devoted eyes dwelt upon the
night and stillness of the heavens--so boundless and so pure. The
moon was full; near it was one bright cloud of silver drapery, upon
the edge of which rested a single star. "So shall it be with me,"
she murmured, "be the clouds that float over the heavens of my soul
bright or dark, the star of holy trust shall linger near, ever
bringing to my bosom--peace."
About two years after, on a winter evening, there was a large
company assembled at Mr. Clinton's dwelling. It was in compliment to
Alice, for that day completed her twentieth year.
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