nature, had been most wisely balanced by the firmness of mind she had derived from education; only the most unpropitious circumstances could have endangered either degenerating to an extreme. To insult she was impervious, but the voice of kindness was to her like the soft breath of spring, which "Melts the icy chains that twine Around entranced nature's form." Relaxing into all the softness of her sex and age, her tears flowed without restraint, as she poured her sorrows into Mrs. Temple's friendly bosom; and, from the well merited praise and judicious counsel she received in return, derived a supporting power, that raised her to a new existence. From consolation Mrs. Temple proceeded to admonition, forcibly representing to Adelaide how culpable she would be, if she continued to nourish in secret a grief, that would render of no avail the capability of usefulness she possessed in mind and fortune, and by this wilful waste of happiness, not only for herself but others, counteract the intention of her being; finally pointing out to her, that, though she had lost the object of her first duties, the world yet presented a wide field, in which she was bound to exert herself to supply their place by others, even should she never find any of equal interest or importance. CHAPTER XII. O! Primavera, gioventu del' anno, Bella madre di fiori, D'herbe novelle, e di novelli amori, Tu torni ben ma teco Non tornano i sereni E fortunati di de le mie gioje. Tu torni ben, tu torni Ma teco altro non torna Che del perduto mio caro tesoro, La rimembranza misera e dolente.[9] IL PASTOR FIDO. [Footnote 9: Delightful spring! youth of the year, Thou blooming mother of the opening flowers, The fresh'ning verdure, and the new-born loves-- Thou now returnest! But no second spring Will e'er return of those serene delights, That bless'd my fleeting hours of happiness-- Thou now return'st! But with thee nought returns To my sad thoughts but renovated sorrow, And bitter mem'ry of departed joys. ] The Parsonage garden was now blooming in all the beauty of summer, and the hedges had exchanged the fragrance of the violet for that of the flaunting woodbine. Instead of a brisk walk of a bracing March evening, its happy inmates enjoyed a sauntering ramble by the light of the newly risen stars, over rich meadows, or through wooded glades and cheerful valleys. Mrs. Temple and Adelaide were one evening returning from such a walk: every thing was at rest in the surrounding scene; the very flowers of day had closed their corollas, and ceased to give forth their perfumes; but the air was fragrant with the night-blowing orchis, and the new-mown grass; and sometimes it brought to their ear the melody of the nightingale, the hooting of the owl, or the hum of the night crow.