I believe I was generally beloved, and that a deep feeling of sympathy for my misfortunes pervaded the community, for I had never been elated by prosperity; but Ernest, whose exclusiveness and reserve was deemed haughtiness, was far from being popular. Mrs. Linwood was revered by all, and blessed as the benefactress of the poor and the comforter of the afflicted; but she was lifted by fortune above the social level of the community, and few, very few were on terms of intimacy with the inmates of the Granite Castle, as Grandison Place was often called. Its massy stone walls, its turreted roof, sweeping lawn, and elevated position, seemed emblematic of the aristocracy of its owners; and though the blessings of the lower classes, and the respect and reverence of the higher, rested upon it, there was a mediocral one, such as is found in every community, that looked with envy on those, whose characters they could not appreciate, because they were lifted so high above their own level. I have spoken of Dr. Harlowe and Mr. Regulus as the most valued friends of the family; but there was one whom it would be ungrateful in me to omit, and whose pure and sacred traits came forth in the dark hours through which I had just passed, like those worlds of light which _are never seen by day_. I allude to Mr. Somerville, the pastor of the parish, and who might truly be called a man of God. The aged minister, who had presided over the church during my mother's life, had been gathered to his fathers, and his name was treasured, a golden sheaf, in the garner of memory. The successor, who had to walk in the holy footprints he had left in the valley, was obliged to take heed to his steps and to shake the dust of earth from his sandals as he went along. In our day of sunshine he had stood somewhat aloof, for he felt his mission was to the poor and lowly, to the sons and daughters of want and affliction; but as soon as sickness and sorrow darkened the household, he came with lips distilling balm, and hands ready to pour oil on the bruised and wounded heart. Methinks I see him now, as when he knelt by my bedside, after I aroused from my long and deadly trance. No outward graces adorned his person, but the beauty of holiness was on his brow, and its low, sweet music in his somewhat feeble accents. It seemed to me as if an angel were pleading for me, and my soul, emerging as it were from the cold waves of oblivion, thrilled with new-born life. Had my spirit been nearer to God during its unconscious wanderings, and brought back with it impressions of celestial glory never conceived before? I know not; but I know that a change had passed over it, and that I felt the reality of that eternity, which had seemed before a grand and ever-receding shadow. Every day, during Richard's illness and mine, came our good and beloved pastor, and he always left a track of light behind him. I always felt nearer heaven when he departed than when he came, for its kingdom was within him.