“Yes; but they cannot bear the storm that _may_, that _must_ come. The stout old thistle, reared in cold and sleet, is much better off--much more useful, and protects many a little plant under its vigorous leaves. Now, only think what adversity really does for us. To begin with _my_ early life:--my father and mother treated me as their friend in all their troubles; I was accustomed to watch their anxious care-worn faces, to try to cheer them, and to rejoice when they brightened: this bound us together in the closest affection; I believe no child, no parents, were ever so dear to each other. No little home was ever so loved as mine; and I was quite broken-hearted when away from all its cares, even for a short time, although in the midst of what people called enjoyment. These were very different feelings from those of children nursed in the lap of affluence, who are frequently selfish, and often but little attached to those around them. I knew what it was to be deprived of many comforts, which made me grateful for those I had, and taught me to feel for the sufferings of others infinitely worse off than myself. Naturally impetuous, I grew up patient; for, as you know, my father was a man of eccentric genius, who failed in all his efforts to place us in the brilliant position he dreamed of. I felt and shared in his disappointments, until disappointment itself became powerless! Sympathy with those I loved roused me to exertion--taught me the value of time--the dignity of usefulness! But, above all, the frowns of the world, the sweet uses of adversity, made me feel the dear necessity of clinging to and loving one another, and of living in that ‘peace which passeth all understanding!’” Marion paused, and looked with inexpressible tenderness on her husband. “I do not believe we should have loved each other half so well if we had not borne so much anxiety together,” she presently continued, “although it would be a dangerous experiment for those to try, who never knew what care was! _We_ very coolly stepped into its troubled waters. What straits we have been in! There is really some amusement, though, in looking back to a hundred comical little difficulties, mingled with graver trials; in peeping into the crowded picture-gallery of one’s own life--grave and gay! Do you remember when we were so _very_ poor, and your father’s friends, the Saviles, condescended to drive over to luncheon with us?” “Oh, yes,” said Edward, laughing; “when poor old Jock behaved so inconsiderately!”