look as with a spell, to their angel expression.  The heart of the young girl throbbed almost to bursting, with the world of undeveloped feeling that rushed over her.  It was a moment which many have experienced—­a moment which breaks over the young for the first time with such a thrill—­she realized that God had gifted her with power—­with a soul that might and must have its influence.  Bowing her head upon Aunt Mary’s knee, she wept; and a flood of joy, humility, and thanksgiving came over her, as she more deeply dedicated herself to the holy Lord, and laid her gifts upon His altar.  Aunt Mary’s words sunk peacefully into her soul, and a clear light irradiated it and filled it with a calmness that made all things right.  With a look of irrepressible tenderness, and a voice full of low music, Alice said to Aunt Mary, as she rose to retire, “You have charmed away every discordant note that was touched to-night, dear aunt.  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.  As she moved from one spot to another, her sweet face radiant with happiness, Aunt Mary’s eyes followed her with a devoted expression, which betrayed that the lovely being was her dearest earthly treasure.  The merry girl was now a glad-hearted, but thoughtful woman.  An innocent mirthfulness lingered around her, which time itself would never subdue, except for a brief season, when her sweet laugh broke out with a natural, rich suddenness; there was a catching joy in it, that could not be withstood.  She was the gentle hostess to perfection; with tact enough to discover congenial spirits, and bring them together, finding her own pleasure in the cheerful home thus made.  She possessed the rare but happy art of making every body feel perfectly at home, one knew not why.  For a moment, Alice stood alone with