“True, but is it not to the end that particular things, within its sphere of supervision, may be kept in order? Break up the harmony and dependence of particular things one upon another, and what becomes of general harmony? Does not all sink into confusion? How small a circumstance often involves the most important consequences; and if the greater result is regarded by Providence, surely the seemingly insignificant cause must also be regarded. Depend upon it, father, there is a particular providence, or no providence at all.” “Perhaps you are right, Eunice. I never saw the subject in that light. As you intimate, we must give up all idea of Providence, and feel that every thing is governed by chance, or admit that it reaches to the most intimate things of our lives. It may be as Shakespeare says, ‘There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will.’” “It is so, father, depend upon it. Human prudence, as Mr. Carlton has so often said, and said it to you in my hearing some years ago, is nothing. You did not believe it then, but you cannot entirely doubt it now.” “I cannot, certainly,” replied Mr. Townsend, speaking sadly, “for my prudence has availed nothing.” “Not for the salvation of your worldly possessions. The good things of natural life were taken from you and from us, but is it not possible for this to prove a blessing and not a curse?” “I do not know. At present it is far from being apparent to my mind.” “It is not altogether so to mine,” returned the daughter. “As for me, I know myself better, and have learned to regard the good of others, and to seek for that good as well as my own; and this is a heavenly affection, and its exercise prepares us for heaven. The very life of heaven is a love of being useful to, and making others happy, and unless we have this love, we cannot go to heaven when our few brief years are closed up here. Surely any natural circumstance that helps us to see what is evil in our hearts, and also to put it away, should be regarded as a blessing.” “Perhaps so, viewed in that light; one in which, I must own, it has never been presented to my mind.” “But is it not the true light, father? Are not our spirits the real and substantial about us?” “Substantial, Eunice? Our bodies are substantial.” “Not substantial like our minds. Material substance is perishing, but spiritual substance endures for ever. In a little while our natural bodies will decay, but neither death, decay, nor corruption can touch our spiritual bodies. Our spiritual well-being is, therefore, of infinite importance, compared to our mere natural well-being.” The words of the young preacher sunk into the heart of her father; a deep sigh struggled up from his bosom, and he sat thoughtful for many minutes.