As from every event in life we gather some golden lesson of wisdom, from this I learned to—­

    “Think nought a trifle
    Though it small appear
    Small sands make up the mountain,
    Moments make the year,
    And trifles life!”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

    “While, O, my heart! as white sails shiver,
      And crowds are passing, and banks stretch wide;
    How hard to follow with lips that quiver,
      That moving speck on the far-off side! 
    Farther, farther—­I see it—­I know it—­
      My eyes brim over, it melts away,
    Only my heart, to my heart shall show it,
      As I walk desolate day by day.”

At home for the winter, I was joined by my husband, who had entered into business, and constant tidings of Hattie’s convalescence cheered me.  Ida being obliged to visit home, I was left in entire charge of my house, daily bewailing the fatal effects of inexperience, when, as ever, a friend was furnished me in the hour of need.  Mrs. Leavitt, my neighbor “over the way,” was a lady of great personal attraction, whose beautiful head was crowned with the glory of prematurely white hair.  She ministered to me in so many ways.  In reading or conversation her melodious voice lent a charm to the most ordinary theme.  Nor did she deem it degrading to enter the domestic realm, and there as everywhere she reigned a queen.

The flutter of a handkerchief at the window blind was my “signal of distress,” and when my “Ship of State” seemed sinking amid the breakers of domestic storms, her strong arm ever saved.  When, the dread emergency of dinner demanded more skill than my amateur art supplied, she came to the rescue, and as she presided in the kitchen, teaching to compound some savoury sauce or delicate dish, the process was interlarded with some sage sentiment from Bacon and other profound philosophers; while, like Joe’s practical sermon over the “plum pudding” came her comments “My dear! knowledge is power,” thus deeply impressing me with the potency of her presence even in the culinary department.

Hence from this dear friend I received not only the “fullness of knowledge,” but the richness of affection also.  She finally drifted away from me to the sunny, flowery land of Florida, whence sweet memories are wafted to me through her love-laden letters, under whose sentiment there flows the same deep under-current of thought.

In the dreary month of January, Hattie came with the snow drifts, bringing with her presence a bright sun-ray, for she was buoyant with the hope of health, and I rejoicing that her life could be lengthened, perhaps saved, hence the winter passed in mapping out plans for the future.  But, with the early spring, the dread disease reappeared with such intensity that I felt her doom to be irrevocably sealed, while “hope fled and mercy sighed.”  Prompted by a hope of enhancing her interest, I accompanied her to Morrison, Illinois, where she was awaited by two loving sisters, who, together with their noble husbands, so tenderly cared for her that it in some degree appeased the sad reluctance of giving her into other hands.