berant gladness which sparkles in young eyes when | Many have asserted, that those who happen to kindled with the glee of rustic pastime she could be deprived of sight after that period of life from partake. The light of happy faces fell visibly upon her, and the joy she felt she was capable also of communicating to others, through the same medium. As a companion she mingled with them, not as a dependant, nor as the slave of their caprice or patience. eve be which they can date what it is to see, are necessarily more unhappy than those whose spirits are troubled by no such memory. It is said that they are far more capable than the others of estimating in its fullness the extent of their affliction. The blind who remember sight certainly repine more Different from all this was the position of the acutely than those who do not. That they are other unhappy orphan. The link of light which pressed down more heavily and embarrassed in a bound his companion more closely to the hearts of greater degree by the inconveniences of blindness her playmates was broken in him; the spirit of must be obvious to all. In the latter, nature has the eye so significant in its expression, and which not had time to accommodate herself to the priva so eloquently speaks all language and emotions, tions which come so unexpectedly upon her. Her could give no response to the advances of regard unity of action is destroyed by habits long adapted or youthful acquaintanceship when manifested to- to a faculty which has ceased to exist. Social wards him by those of his own age. This defect misconceptions crowd upon her, which are not of sight oppressed the child in more senses than only useless but injurious, inasmuch as they cannot one. Whilst, as we said, the influence of external operate through that medium by which they prenature cheered the early grief of the girl, by draw-viously acted. All this tends to render the situa ing her heart abroad upon its beauty, the boy's sor- tion of such persons more comfortless, and their row was confined within a spirit, wrapped in deeper tempers less placid than are those of the unhappy darkness, not only by his own blindness, but by the beings who have never seen. But, on the other loss of his parents. His grief, though more quiet, hand, that blank in faculties which occasions the ran in a deeper channel. What had been denied cheerless calm of one of those who are born blind, to his external sense was bestowed upon his sensi- has been filled up in them, and though the bility, and the lonely boy, who, had not nature dark, the memory is full of light and beauty. been at one entrance quite shut out, would have Heaven in all its mightiness and sublimity has more easily forgotten his affliction, now felt what been seen, and their heart, like the face of Moses, it was to be gifted with that memory of the heart yet shines in the due effulgence of God's glory. which only prolongs the term of human sorrow. Not so those who have neither the memory nor When mingling with the village boys, in this early the hope of light. As they cannot be moved by stage of his grief, he often wondered why their the remembrance of the good that has passed laughter was so full and buoyant, and could not at away from them, so are they less unhappy than the all understand why little Jane's mirth was equal others. But then the sense of loss keeps alive in to theirs. He did not know then that the laughter their minds a constitutional melancholy, which, as of the youthful blind is melancholy and feeble, nor they know not the nature of what is lost, never that an inherent sense of their privations, and the quickens into any mood beyond its own placid and physical effects of them on their temperament, make mournful resignation. Their sagacity is better their very mirth breathe somewhat of sorrow. cultivated, and those collateral instincts which alYet was his heart formed for enjoyment, and leviate the sorrow of their life, are more beaut highly capable of the finer and more human sus- fully drawn in to their support. So wisely does ceptibilities of our nature. To see him standing God temper the good and evil in life, and so hartimidly aloof from the noisy group, whose laughter, moniously are they blended in the web of our in the radiance of a still evening, rang far and chequered existence. The blind who have seen, lightly over the village green, with that melan- for instance, though pining under a more viv choly but placid smile upon his countenance, which, perception of their calamity, draw an ample consolike the widow's mite, was the all of sympathy he lation from the consciousness that they have know could bestow on his young companions, was a sight the nature of the sense that has been taken fr which could scarcely be witnessed without more them, that the secret of the strange sense is known. than usual emotion. That smile and the workings Those again who are born blind feel that the mys of his features which accompanied it, were the terious light is veiled to them during life, and as struggle of his darkened spirit after light and en- they have never seen it, they are consequently joyment. Whenever his playmates laughed, he stirred by no ideal image of its beauty beyond the brightened, though not mingling with them, but, vague guesses of a mind conscious of its privati, alas! that which moved his young countenance, but ignorant of that which has been lost, withhed raised by the sunshine of their hilarity, appeared from it by the will of the Being who has marked but when they were mirthful, and faded away, as out their condition in life. they became silent, into the mournful stillness of a heart that was too early touched by calamity. In a village so small, it could not be supposed that the families into which the orphans were taken, could live far asunder. The distance between the with considerable force, the young groups of both two houses was not more than about sixty yards, sexes immediately dispersed, leaving none behind so that the poor things had frequent opportunities them but one poor orphan boy, whose blindness of being together. Before their orphanhood, too, prevented him from seeking shelter with the same they had once or twice met, but Jane, with some- speed. The locality of the place too was at this thing of that instinctive disrelish which is felt by time but new to him, and for a moment he stood ordinary children against those who are blind, was ignorant of the direction in which he should promoved by no inclination to make the little fellow a ceed. He knew that a river with deep banks was playmate. Few did, because, though anxious to near him, for he had learned this from his mother, join them, he was an incumbrance, and in their but whether on the right hand or the left, before or amusements children are singularly prone to avoid behind, he could not tell. For about three minutes those who are marked by any bodily defect. But the rain too came down severely, but other now the early misfortunes of both, between which thoughts were working in the orphan's mind. there existed such a strange and melancholy pa- Though young, he felt at that moment a sinking rallel, invested each with a humane interest which of the heart arising from the remembrance of his they would not otherwise have excited. Their lost parents and his want of their affectionate common loss, too, gave them a still stronger in- watchfulness, which utterly overcame him. The terest in one another. Their situations and feel-gentle creature burst into tears and wept in such ings were so much alike, that the inhabitants of bitterness of spirit as he had never felt before even the village always associated them together, and at their death. It was while thus loudly giving scarcely in a single instance ever spoke of them way to his grief that he felt himself timidly touchseparatelyed upon the shoulder. "There are the two orphans, poor things," or "there is one of the orphans-that tall pale little girl--her father and mother died some weeks ago. There's another, too, a dark boy, who was left the same way, in the same week. Neither of them has a friend that any body knows of, and God only can tell what will become of them, for the poor people they live with, are hardly able to support their own children, let alone them." 66 Who is that?" said he. "I heard a foot, but I was thinking about my father and mother, and forgot that I heard it." It was the other orphan; who replied, "It is Jane Campbell-I saw that they had all left you, and I knew that you had no one to help you home, so in spite of the rain, I came back to you. I didn't wish to play with you before my father and mother died, but now I like you better, because they say that you and I are orphans. What is an orphan?" Such was the usual language of the people when speaking of them, for indeed it was difficult to avoid identifying the fate of two beings whose age While speaking, the artless child had taken the and condition, if we except the boy's blindness, ex-boy's hand and began to lead him towards the vilhibited, as we have said, so remarkable a simi- lage. He paused and thought for a little with a larity. view of giving her an answer. The affecting interrogatory, however, was beyond him, he knew it not. Their first interview after the death of their parents, occurred at one of the youthful meetings on the village green. Boys and girls composed two groups, somewhat asunder, each engaged in their appropriate pastimes. It was one of those evenings in May which sometimes become transiently overcast, and, by the deep gloom which obscures the sun, threatens to close into a dark and severe deluge of rain. A heavy cloud hung towards the west and threw for a moment a wintry aspect over everything about them, the cheerful green of nature faded into a sombre hue, a black curl came over the waters, and the breeze played along their surface in rapid and arrowy gusts, that resembled the swift motion of some strong insect shooting in eccentric sweeps, that betokened its joyful perception of the coming Storm. The vivid hue of the flowers became dead, and the rude blast tost them about, or beat their gentle heads to the earth as if it wished them newer to risc again. But like those mild spirits that are bowed down by the adversity of life, they had Friend above. As the big drops began to fall VOL. VIL-62 "I have been trying to know it," he replied, "but I can't tell you." 66 Your name is William, isn't it?" she inquired; "mine is Jane." "No," returned her companion, "my name is Willy; that's what my father and mother always called me, and I like it more since they died. Was it Jane you were called by your father and mother?" "No," said she, "it was Jenny; but I like Jane better, it's a nicer name; you must call me Jane always." "I wonder you wouldn't rather be called what your father and mother called you; surely it's sweeter to you than the other, and you know they liked it or they wouldn't call you by it." "Do you think often of your father and mother?" inquired the girl. "I can't feel sorry for mine now, as I used to do." "I do," said the boy; "and every night when I go to bed in my little place in the corner, I spread my father's coat over me, although I be warm enough without it, but I like to be feeling the breast strange-it's strange-the sun makes me glad, but buttons as I used to do. If I died now I wouldn't I like the moon better." be sorry." "And why do you?" "Because when the sun shines upon me, I feel glad and pleasant, and forget my father and mother; but the moon shines at night and makes me sorry, for then I think of them; but for all that it's Why wouldn't you? Death's an ugly thing." "No, it's not an ugly thing. I loved my father and mother better when they were dead than when they were living, and if it was an ugly thing I wouldn't. I'll tell you why I'd wish to die-be-pleasanter to be sorry for them, than even to be cause I'd go to them, and my mother would be with The orphans had now considerably slackened their pace and were walking hand in hand slowly along. The expected shower did not come down, the sun having burst from the clouds and filled the earth with a warm and serene glory through which a few large feathering drops fell, which, tinged by the evening light, appeared rather like liquid gold than rain. The face of nature sparkled; the robin and blackbird once more resumed their songs in the copses, now pendant with living crystal; the tints of the flowers became more delicate and glowing, and their perfumes more fragrant on the mild air. 'I'm glad we are out now," said the girl; "how sweet every thing is, the flowers all look so lovely, and the sun is shining so beautiful. Don't you like the sun now?-1 do." 66 listening to the boys playing." "What's the reason," said the girl," that they don't wish you to play with them?" "Because," said the poor child, in a voice which became tremulous with sorrow, "because I'm blind, and they don't like me.” "Well," replied his companion, " don't be sorry for that, you and I will play together." "Oh," said he, in a voice suddenly raised to an expression of ecstacy-" will you? will you? we will play together? And you won't keep me out and make me stand away as they did?” "No, I won't; and I'll call you, and bring you to us, and lead you home again. If you like primroses, I'll pull you some now." 66 felt Wait," said the boy, now working under the influence of deep and delighted feeling-" wait, give me your hands." Having with that calm and experimental air peculiar to blind persons her hands, joint by joint, he then passed up to her arms and shoulders and neck; "may I feel your face?" said he; "I would like to feel it, you make me gladder than the sun does, or even the boys at play." What makes you wish to feel my hands and face ?" she inquired. "Because," said the child," my heart is happy. and I know by it, that I like you for what you said. Now I'll be thinking of you, but I couldn't rightly if I didn't know your face." "Well now," observed his companion, who did not properly comprehend the vague analogies that were drawn into their simple conversation by 3 being deprived of a sense so necessary to close comparison as sight is "Well now," said she, The blind child instinctively turned his face towards the sun, and stood in that position for nearly five minutes, his countenance working under the influence of emotions which it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to explain or fathom. Several times he put up his little hand before its genial "let us come and pull the primroses, I'll tie thera beams and passed it slowly backwards and forwards up for you, and they'll smell sweet till this time with an expression of earnest and placid curiosity, to-morrow." alternating like light and shade upon his face. "Will you tell me, if I guess what the sun is like?" he inquired. "I will," said his companion; "it's the easiest thing in the world to guess it." “I think," said he, "it's like little boys at play because it always makes me glad when I feel it shining. I'm glad now." ers, The two orphans then went to a bank of primroses, whereon he sat while she gathered the flowand having arranged them into a little bouquet. placed them in his hand. Both then took their way towards the village, which they entered the first time together, walking slowly along in the golden light of the evening sun. CHAPTER III. To those who can bring humble life near them. it would be difficult to find within the whole range of ordinary calamity, a more pathetic picture, than that of these orphans, yielding an unconscio sympathy to each other. On the wide stage indifference, and left them to the care of those whose hearts had been softened by poverty to a closer perception of human wretchedness. To feed, support, and afford them shelter at all, was an act of virtue which it would be difficult to find out of the lowly state of life in which they lived, and although it was performed with reluctance, surely we cannot but honor the principle which prompted them in the midst of their own necessities to perform it under any circumstances however ungracious. existence they had no friend to whom they could | The wealthy and the comfortable saw their misery turn to look for protection; no relation that they and heard of their sufferings, but looked on with knew of, whose heart might be stirred by the impulses of natural affection, or moved by a case of destitution unsurpassed in the mournful history of orphanhood. And yet after Jane had left her little companion at home, both of them felt their hearts soothed by a complacent sense of relief that was new to them. Life, remote and limited as was that portion of it which they filled, had now something to rest upon; hope, humble as was her promise, still had one to give; and amusement, which is every thing to the young, a cheerful spirit ready to remove the blight of early sorrow. And who Such is the habit of the heart to love that which will say that this meeting between them, simple as is near it, that before they had sense to appreciate it may appear, was a circumstance merely fortui- the value of the benefits they received, and despite tous? Let those who think so, examine their own of blows and cruelty in many shapes, they felt an lives closely and they will find that minor incidents affection grow upon them for those with whom have uniformly led to those which may have af- they lived, and especially for their children. This fected its interests most deeply. It is beautiful to beneficent provision of God, on the one hand softhink that the providence of God is alike watchful tened in a considerable degree the rigor of their of all, and that the humble and forsaken are as fate, whilst on the other, their domestic sufferings much the objects of his care as the exalted and threw their hearts more closely together, and ocmighty. For several days these children met, and casioned by the humble records of their sorrow as separating themselves from the groups about them, related to each other, those delightful emotions of conducted their amusements together. Little Jane sympathy, in which every thing but its delicious felt the total dependance of the boy upon her as a charm is forgotten and lost. Here again was the matter of gratification. Before this she was no-balance of good on their side, at a moment when thing, but now she on a sudden became a being of the unfeeling pity of the world was laid in comimportance to a fellow creature, who, in their passionating their condition. sports, necessarily found her his superior. Though There was little during their early youth to vary ignorant of the sentiment we have expressed, she the course of all that they enjoyed or suffered. was accessible to the feeling that corresponds to The girl, as she grew up, was able to make herself it, for feeling in the young precedes philosophy, useful, and heavy were the tasks the patient child and after, acts with a more certain aim. Their was compelled to execute. Still, this was looked position truly was a proof of the rashness with upon as a compensation, in some degree, for that which we often pass judgment upon the events of which she had received from her protectors, and, life, and of the errors into which we fall when concluding that what bears the aspect of calamity, is really such. These two beings were now happy, and that new happiness, be it observed, was made to spring from the affliction which had been laid upon them. as common sense expanded, she felt it a duty to repay them by her labor with as much cheerfulness as she could assume. This satisfaction, however, was denied to poor Martley, who, as he advanced in growth, perceived with bitterness that his pressure upon the poor family with whom he lived, inIt could not be supposed that creatures so young creased with his years-yet it was not his fault, and dependent were free from the many severe and and although his calamity was frequently imputed oppressive trials incident to their situation. Living to him as a crime, still his very helplessness occaupon the hard-earned pittance of those who were sionally drew forth from them affecting instances themselves of the very poorest class, and incapa- of pity, and many strong touches of feeling. Inble for the present of rendering any service ade-deed it required only a passing glance at each to quate to the support and protection which they re- form an opinion of their condition. Clad in coarse ceived, how could it be otherwise than that they and tattered garments, pale, drooping, and appawere felt as a burthen, and treated as intruders, rently famine-struck, it might be said, from their thrown by a vexatious turn of fortune into two obvious destitution, that " orphan" was written on struggling families on whom they had no claim, every lineament of their wasted features. and to whom their parents were almost utter stran- Much of this, 'tis true, arose from physical disgers. Their bread, therefore, though scanty, was tress. Bad food, insufficient in quantity, want of eaten in bitterness, and watered by their tears-nor care, the absence of a mother's hand, of a father's let us tax with want of feeling or harshness the protection, misery and raggedness, were in themhumble persons, who, from a sense of duty alone, selves capable of producing all the symptoms of prevented our orphans from dying in the streets. grinding poverty which they exhibited. Habit, "What," said the man, 66 are I and mine to however, had reconciled them to much of this;| and as happiness and misery are merely compara- feed, and clothe, and lodge a blind whelp that has tive, it was well for our orphans that their notion not been able to work a hand's turn, even to the of life and enjoyment was founded upon a scale so value of sixpence, to pay us for our kindness in limited and humble. Their sufferings were visible saving you from dying in the public streets? and to the world, but as they arose from childhood to are you to dare to dictate to the man that was a youth, what opportunity had that world of observ-father to you ?" ing the silent and progressive changes which their| "No," said the boy, "I wouldn't say a word to hearts underwent while passing through the stages anger you, but if I cannot work for you as another of affection? Long before we dream of love, or would, it is not my fault. What I can do, I do. become cognizant of its existence, the influence it You see I'm blind. No, I wouldn't say one word has upon us, like disease, often lurks in our con- to anger you, and I'm sure I never did. You are stitution for a considerable time before we com- all the father I have, and I have no mother to go plain of illness, a fact which a thousand subse- to, or I would not be a burthen on you. I love the quent remembrances clearly establish. Our or- family as if I was one of their own blood, and I phans were thrown early together, and their situa- never will say a word to vex you or them." tion produced that interchange which most generally draws heart to heart, the first impulses of simple kindness. From this, as they advanced in years, they passed on from pity to esteem, from esteem to friendship, from friendship to sympathy; and sympathy in two who required it so much, He flung his heavy shoe, the heel and sole of soon melted into the tenderness of the most en- which were paved with strong nails, at the boy, trancing of all passions. Indeed, it was not sur- who receiving the blow on his head, fell and beprising that their intimacy ripened into love. Who came insensible. His wife had been endeavoring was there in the wide world from whom Jane to strip her husband, with a view of getting him Campbell ever received a word of consolation, ex- to bed, but on seeing the blow given with such cept from the kind-hearted orphan boy? and whose force, she flew to the boy with a shriek, and raising voice ever fell upon John Martley's heart like mu- him up, surveyed with strong exclamations of pity sic, except that of his gentle girl! What, in fact, and alarm his apparently lifeless face, down which was all they suffered, to those moments of sweet the blood was already streaming. communion, in which the first approaches of love "God forgive you, Philip, for that above al stirred their pulses into transport ?-nothing. On things you ever did," she exclaimed ; and God in the contrary, they would have suffered ten times his mercy grant that the luck of the family may as much for the promise of happiness which dawned not leave us with the blow you gave him! You upon them so sweetly. What," said the man again, "is it making a liar of me you are to my face and before my own family? take that and let it teach you more respect to the man who broke himself striving to do what he was not able to do-support you." 66 have done what no man was ever known to do and thrive; you have struck the blind. If it does not end in his death,—if the orphan's not killed, you ought to be thankful. Sweet heaven, he is not recovering." From the moment that the blind boy began to feel the workings of an emotion that was so new and delightful, a marked change was visible upon him. His disposition, at all times placid, now became so gentle, that his foster-father, as we shall call him,| The man's conscience, not naturally hard, was together with his whole family, wondered why they seized with sudden remorse for what he had done. felt much of their former harshness towards him He took the boy in his arms, and bringing hem abated. To be angry with a creature so mourn-over to the rushlight that burned in the wooden fully sweet in his disposition, was, one would have candlestick, looked in his face with symptoms of thought, impossible. But, as it has been truly strong feeling. said, poverty when excessive, as it was in the case Yes, God forgive me," he said, "I have struck of his foster-father, often injures the temper, even the fatherless and the friendless, and what is worse, of the best and most benevolent. the blind-the poor orphan that I took under my roof and my own protection, knowing him to be what he was." Martley was entering his fifteenth year, when one evening the man came home, contrary to his wont, considerably affected by liquor. A sense of His eyes filled with tears as he spoke, and hastily his own distresses pressed heavily upon his heart, untying his cravat he wiped away the blood from which, together with the excitement arising from the orphan's face, exclaiming Poor, mild creawhat he had drank, rendered him violent, if not ture! a hard life he led with us, Ellen, and a dark outrageous, with all about him, and principally lot in this world came to his share, yet who ever with his unhappy protegé. His family, as was heard a murmur from his lips?" natural, tried every means to soothe him, and among the rest, poor Willy begged him to go to bed, add-down his cheeks, and fell upon the orphan's face. ing that sleep would cure him. The boy, however, soon recovered, and finding He then kissed him, and the big tears rolled |