"At home again! How I ran about with my winter hood, and water-proof, visiting the old familiar spots, and rejoicing in the presence of my dumb pets. The dear old library--my harp and piano, like faithful friends, seemed to welcome me again; the sweet Eolian sounded out a loud pæan, for sharp March winds swept over its strings, and it, too, seemed rejoicing. "How shall I occupy my time? There is a great deal here to do. I should like to do some good in the world, and live for something beside myself. "Could I not gather a little group of poor children, and teach them? Could I not establish something like a parish school? There are so many poor people around us, that only live a wild life,--children of the fishermen. Effie could help me, and we would be so happy together. Then, after awhile, we might perhaps have the services of our own church; I could get a missionary to come here twice a-month from Boston, and then we may have a church of our own; but I must see Aunt Clara first, she can direct me. * * * * * * "I am with Aunt Clara again. There is rest in her very smile; the soft silver hair lies so quietly around her mild face; the peace of God breathes in every look and motion. She is so different from Aunt Matilda--she draws me heavenward; Aunt Matilda drags me down. "Poor aunty! what a pity that she has nothing but the things of this world to lean upon! no wonder that she feels their insecurity. But, dear Aunt Clara, so patient, so peaceful, so happy. I can pour out my whole heart, I can tell her all my thoughts. "She seems to anticipate all I have to say. How sweet the name of Jesus sounds, uttered by her lips! She talks to me of his tenderness, his fulness, his preciousness, until sometimes I feel, 'None but Jesus!' "Then clouds come again--I lose my hope, and all is dark. But still I trust that there is some progress in the inner life. I love my Bible; the hour of prayer is precious; the house of God, my chief joy. Nothing will draw me to the world again, I hope; and yet my 'heart is deceitful above all things,' as regards the things of God. "Lavinia urges me to follow in her sinful, foolish ways; I will not--I have refused her invitations repeatedly, and she tries the power of ridicule. She does not know me, or she would not try the weakness of such a weapon. "I am too proud yet to yield to such a mode of opposition. Just let me believe myself a Christian, and Lavinia's ridicule will only excite my sorrow. "The gay world has lost its charms for me, and I care not what Lavinia and her friends may say. She has told me a great deal about Helen Thornly, and has convinced me, that she is, indeed, the chosen companion of Roland's future life--may they be happy! She says that Roland always speaks of me with the affection of a brother, very calmly, but never seems willing to talk about Helen.