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CHAPTER XXXVIII.

"In our spirits doth His spirit shine,
As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew."

"What a magic power is a kind word! And when it is not the mere impulse of the moment, but the perpetual atmosphere of home, how softly go the hours! Hearts grow young and cares press lightly, pain loses half its sting and affliction half its sorrow. Were this truth more fully realized how much of this world's misery might we escape, how much of bitter self-accusations and life-long regrets." Such was Milly's soliloquy one afternoon, as she sat musing upon the wonderful transformation that might be effected in this world of disappointment, if the affections were more tenderly cultivated. This was a theme upon which she had been dreaming all her life, and the desire to effect something towards this transformation had prompted her to write the novel, which, however, was not likely to accomplish much so long as it was carefully concealed in her drawer.

Reader, did you ever try to amuse your leisure moments of thought by picturing to yourself the real life of the unmarried woman? Well, whatever your speculations may have been you may rest pretty sure that they are a failure. She might just as well attempt to appropriate to her own experience the hidden sanctities, honored or profaned, that lie within

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