* * * * * THE REVEALINGS OF A HEART. BY D. T. KILBOURN. “Oh, Ellen! is not this a most enchanting prospect! How lovingly those little islands rest their grassy heads upon the tranquil bosom of the deep blue waters! And those distant sails—how like beings of life and thought they seem, gliding so gracefully over its glassy surface. Indeed, when one views this noble edifice—these cultivated gardens—this lovely prospect—and inhales the cool sea-breeze wafted from the bosom of the mighty ocean—instead of the abode of the poor, helpless and forsaken, he would suppose it the resting-place of some of the great from yon proud city; who, weary of its noise and din, had retired hither to enjoy in sweet repose the accumulated wealth of years.” “It is, indeed, a lovely prospect,” said her companion, gazing thoughtfully upon the scene before her—and as a pensive smile lit up her expressive features, she continued—“Invariably after visiting an institution of the kind, such a weight of sadness seems to oppress me, that my mind is little calculated to enjoy the beautiful.” “Sadness, Ellen! What is it possible you can find here to make you sad! For, laying aside the beauties of nature, have we not seen with what care and neatness every thing is arranged—what a regard to comfort. And then not only are the physical wants of the inmates provided for, but the mental and religious seem not forgotten.” “Mental, Lucy! Where the mental?” “Why,” said her companion, slightly coloring, “did we not see those spacious school-rooms for the children, and the chapel, where public services are held every Sunday?” “Why, Lucy, you cannot possibly suppose some eighty or a hundred children, placed under the care of one instructor, and that one, perhaps, taking no interest in his duties further than to secure a livelihood, as likely to derive much benefit from such a course of mental instruction. But,” added she, in a more lively tone, observing the embarrassment of her companion, “but, dear coz, those little ones formed not the burden of my thoughts—for children, you know, like flowers, though crushed to the earth by the pelting storm, the drops which weigh down their trembling petals, reflect but light and love. And however the foreshadowings of their destiny may creep upon the soul, it requires but one bright smile to chase all gloom away. Bless their sunny hearts! this earth would be a dreary waste without them. But, Lucy, what makes me particularly sad, is that whenever I visit a place of the kind, I see so little of joy and gladness; so much of sorrow and concealed despair expressed in the countenances of its inmates.” “But, Ellen, is it not always thus wherever we meet the unfortunate?”