A Soft Breeze in a Sultry Place

'That doubt and trouble, fear and pain,
And anguish, all, are shadows vain,
That death itself shall not remain; That weary deserts we may tread,
A dreary labyrinth may thread,
Thro' dark ways underground be led; Yet, if we will one Guide obey,
The dreariest path, the darkest way
Shall issue out in heavenly day; And we, on divers shores now cast,
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
All in our Father's house at last!'
R. C. TRENCH.

Margaret flew up stairs as soon as their visitors were gone, and
put on her bonnet and shawl, to run and inquire how Bessy Higgins
was, and sit with her as long as she could before dinner. As she
went along the crowded narrow streets, she felt how much of
interest they had gained by the simple fact of her having learnt
to care for a dweller in them.

Mary Higgins, the slatternly younger sister, had endeavoured as
well as she could to tidy up the house for the expected visit.
There had been rough-stoning done in the middle of the floor,
while the flags under the chairs and table and round the walls
retained their dark unwashed appearance. Although the day was
hot, there burnt a large fire in the grate, making the whole
place feel like an oven. Margaret did not understand that the
lavishness of coals was a sign of hospitable welcome to her on
Mary's part, and thought that perhaps the oppressive heat was
necessary for Bessy. Bessy herself lay on a squab, or short sofa,
placed under the window. She was very much more feeble than on
the previous day, and tired with raising herself at every step to
look out and see if it was Margaret coming. And now that Margaret
was there, and had taken a chair by her, Bessy lay back silent,
and content to look at Margaret's face, and touch her articles of
dress, with a childish admiration of their fineness of texture.