hoping family, while there was the least possibility that she might be heard from again; and who would wish to be the first to pronounce that gentle wife a widow?  Darker and still deeper grew the overshadowing cloud, and the hopes of the trusting ones less.  Mrs. Grosvenor would sit for whole days brooding over her sorrows, clinging to the last ray of hope, with almost the insanity of hope; but the last spark finally went out, never again to be rekindled.  The untiring wheels of time still went their rounds, and everything moved on, as if there were no hearts beating in discordant measure to the joyous song of nature.  Sympathizing friends pitied the afflicted, and the world read,—­“A noble ship lost at sea! all on board supposed to have perished!  Ship and cargo valued at thirty thousand dollars; no insurance!” and they exclaim,—­“ah, the sailor’s life is indeed hard!” But they dwell upon the latter clause of the paragraph with as much real pity, the words fall upon their ear, conveying as much of real sadness to their minds, as that many families have been called to mourn the loss of one of their members.  The Sea-flower could hardly become reconciled to the thought that she would never see her father more, yet for her mother’s sake she suppressed her grief, endeavoring to soothe her weary spirits by those refreshing promises of Him who dries the mourner’s tear,—­binding up the wounds of the broken-hearted.

“Dear mother, we are called upon to bear a heavy trial; this is indeed a bitter, bitter draught, yet we must not forget ’tis our Father holds the cup.  You have taught me to smile upon his chastening rod, but in this dark hour of trial truly the flesh is weak; yet we will rest upon the strength of His arm, He will not forsake us; and, mother, His ways indeed are higher than our ways.  How tenderly has he dealt with us, inasmuch as he has so ordered that our dear Harry should be spared to us; for as I look upon the past, I can see nothing but the kindly interference of his will, that my brother did not share the same grave with his father.”

“My darling, your precious words shed light over my weary pathway.  I fear that I have sinned in thus murmuring at God’s will, for I would not see his loving kindness in sparing to me my boy.  But it is so very hard,—­so dreadful,—­that in that hour when his spirit winged its way to that better land, we might not pause from our worldly pursuits, turning our eyes heavenward; craving strength to bear our cross; but your words of love, my child, remind me of that Being who is the fountain-head of loveliness, and I thank God for his gift of you.”

“If I am a comfort to you, mother, it is through your influence, for you have taught me to walk in the paths of virtue.”

“True, I have pointed out to you the ways of righteousness, but when you looked upon that bright river of life, I observed that its waters were no less tranquil, and mirrored upon its bosom was one more shining star; and it has been increasing in magnitude, till now its radiance illumes even the bright river itself.”