And _is_ this all--this mournful doom?
Beams no glad light beyond the tomb?
Mark how yon clouds in darkness ride;
They do not quench the orb they hide;
Still there it wheels--the tempest o'er,
In a bright sky to burn once more;
So, far above the clouds of time,
Faith can behold a world sublime--
There, when the storms of life are past,
The light beyond shall break at last.
THE POWER OF KINDNESS.
HOW much comprised in the simple word, _kindness!_ One kind word, or
even one mild look, will oftentimes dispel thick gathering gloom
from the countenance of an affectionate husband, or wife. When the
temper is tried by some inconvenience or trifling vexation, and
marks of displeasure are depicted upon the countenances and perhaps,
too, that most "unruly of all members" is ready to vent its spleen
upon the innocent husband or wife, what will a kind mien, a pleasant
reply, accomplish? Almost invariably perfect harmony and peace are
thus restored.
These thoughts were suggested by the recollection of a little
domestic incident, to which I was a silent, though not uninterested
spectator. During the summer months of 1834, I was spending several
weeks with a happy married pair, who had tasted the good and ills of
life together only a twelvemonth.
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