“My love, the fault lies with yourself—not with your hat or coat. It was that you thought more of them than of the kind, good God, who gave them to you.” “Mamma, if I say my prayers now, will God forgive me, and will he let me feel afraid no more?” “Yes, love, God will forgive you, if you are sorry for forgetting them.” He knelt—and while that cherub face, now bathed in pearly drops, was raised to heaven, he lisped, in accents sweet, a prayer to Jesus. Then, clasping his hands in joy, while a gleam of sunshine glistened through his tears, he cried, “Arthur’s not afraid now, mamma; he don’t feel alone any more!” One fond embrace—and soon the little penitent was locked in slumbers sweet; while near, all radiant with the smiles of heaven, hovered his angel guide. * * * * * In an arbor, round which the jasmine and honeysuckle gracefully clung, mingling their spicy breath with the gentle zephyrs that fondly caressed their trembling leaves, sat a beautiful child, his curly locks resting upon his little arm, his whole soul mirrored in his deep, full eyes, as he gazed out upon the distant hills, now bathed in sun-set splendor. And, as he continued thus in childish thought to muse, the spirit of the flowers saw him encircled with an atmosphere of strange, mysterious beings; some, in their dull and heavy flight scarce rising from the earth, seemed busy linking chains to bind his spirit to their groveling appetites; others, with silvery wings sporting in sunbeams mounted high in air, while others still, of diamond light, to which the rays of mid-day sun looked pale, played round his noble brow. As the bright guardian whispered sweet visions to the innocent, it saw the little flower-spirit gazing inquiringly upon the scene, and in a sweet melodious voice, it said, “The beings that you see belong to this fair child. Together, all, they form what man calls _life_! The beauteous form he bears is made of dust; and when this _life_ forsakes it, it returns to dust. Those beings creeping on the earth are ministers of flesh. They add to its pleasures, modify its pains, and by collecting other particles of dust together, construct for, feed, and clothe it. Every creature crawling on the earth partakes this life, these appetites. Their home is in the flesh, and with the flesh they die. In worldly language, these are called ‘The Passions!’ “Those pure, bright spirits, sparkling like the rays of morn upon the ice-capped mountains, gamboling in sunbeams, are formed to worship, to adore; to bask forever in the beauty, power, and wisdom of creation’s God. These are called ‘Moral Sentiments.’ “And those that cluster round his brow, beings of power, called ‘Intellect,’ encompass sea and land, penetrate the deep bowels of the earth, and mount on wings of light to the revolving spheres, tracing in all the wisdom, power, consistency of nature’s laws, then tracing all to God.