’Midst the thorns are fragrant roses, Sunbeams ’midst the shifting clouds. Many days of open weather now intervened, when winter appeared to meditate resigning his sovereignty. The snow disappeared from the hills which surrounded their pleasant retreat, little sunny nooks were visible where the early violet might shelter, and the sands on the seashore were becoming bright and sparkling. Delightful as were these indications of spring, the inmates of Mrs. Wilson’s abode were not inclined to wish for its rapid approach. The winter had not only been pleasantly, but they all felt, profitably, spent, that seed had been sown which might, by careful culture, produce an abundant harvest. The joyous and lively spirits of Susan still retained all their buoyancy and she joined them on the sands where they were watching the white sails of the vessels as they were leaving the harbor, as the sun shone full upon them. “They are leaving their homes,” said Elizabeth, “to cross that ocean, which, though now so serene, we have seen under such different aspects.” “And,” said Herbert, “they are, no doubt, elated with the pleasant auspices under which they commence their voyage. Sailors are a superstitious race; they dread to leave their port under a lowering sky; and it is almost impossible to induce them to embark on Friday. You will frequently see them on a land-cruise, as they call it, to overhaul the log-book of the redoubtable Moll Pitcher, or some old fortune teller, relative to the success of their voyage, the constancy of their sweethearts, etc., and the wise old lady prognosticates so much to their satisfaction that they return in great glee, after leaving with her a goodly portion of their well-filled purses.” “It is surely a kind Providence,” said Mary, “which hides from us the events of futurity. How wretched would be every intervening moment were we certain of the time of some great calamity!” “True, Mary,” said Herbert, “and there are many who, without this knowledge, suffer a thousand deaths in fearing one. I refer to those who are ever anticipating evil, who prophesy destroying frost in every cold wind and blight or blasting mildew in the warm sun or refreshing rain.” “I am decidedly of the opinion,” said Susan, “that such persons are worse in society than drones in a hive, for the idle person generally injures himself more than any one else, but the discontented one makes others wretched by imparting to them a portion of his bitterness. It gives me the fidgets to hear poor Mrs. Flagg complain of this wicked world, protesting that everybody is governed by selfish motives and, shaking her head, declare that there is no such thing as happiness on earth, and yet she enjoys, or seems to enjoy, to perfection a good cup of tea and a warm cake.”