the hearts of married partners, grew out of their mutual bereavement. Every year they clung to each other with fonder, more helpful, more absorbing love.
The movement of Amy's life was very calm, but rounded by acts of steady, systematic goodness. Thus was born that heavenly peace which springs from the conscientious discharge of daily duties, even the most trivial, and thus was found the only true nepenthe!
Every day she asked herself "Has my existence bettered some other life to-day?" "Have I shared my gifts with others?" "Have I cheered any troubled heart?" "Have I made any burden lighter, any discordant spirits more harmonious?" And few were the days upon which Amy could not answer these soul-searching questions with thankfulness. When it was not in her power to do much, she was content to do little, if in that little she "did what she could!" True, she was never fully satisfied with the amount of good achieved, but what large nature ever is?
In spite of her heavy bereavement, and the much coveted blessing forever denied, the clergyman's wife was one of the happiest mortals that walked the earth. Could any being adopt Amy's rules of life and not be happy? Truly the Kingdom of God is "within us," and well has it been said, "God has two dwellings; one in heaven, the other in a meek and thankful heart."
