ing you all cheerful and amused together; and I need not remind you, Dora, of the duty of sacrificing at all times your own feelings to hers." "I am sure I would not make mamma unhappy about me for the whole world if I could help it," replied Dora tearfully. "I know you would not wilfully; and therefore I wish to bring you to see how we mar our own peace, whenever we yield to the natural selfishness of our hearts. And with regard to Mary (as I have often told you), you increase the want of sympathy between you that you complain of, by making yourself mysterious and incomprehensible to her. You know that she is different to you both in disposition and in taste, and she cannot, however she may wish it, enter fully into all your thoughts and feelings. It is not because she is younger than you, but because she is differently constituted, and her mind has an opposite bias. But people of opposite tastes need not necessarily disagree with each other. Quite the contrary. I have often found the most dissimilar characters blend together the most harmoniously; and I think further, that the very view that Providence has in placing such individuals together in families is to draw more closely the ties that unite them to each other. The peculiar failings of each seem to make them more dependent upon each other's charity, and their various distinct qualities seem purposed to contribute towards the general comfort of the whole. How rare a thing it is to meet with two sisters or brothers with the same dispositions; and it cannot be supposed that there is less wisdom and design employed in the arrangement of a human family than in that of the various L organs which constitute the existence of each little perishable herb! Ye are of more value than these.' Nor can it be presumed, that He who has given us the command to 'love one another with pure hearts fervently,' would place us under circumstances where it is impossible to do so. Depend upon it the fault, where it exists, is in our own unrenewed spirits. I see but one prospect of happiness in life for you, Dora: it is in devoting yourself to others. Endeavour constantly and on all occasions to forget yourself, and to find out how you may best minister to the interests and wishes of those connected with you. There is nothing harsh in this but the sound, and nothing difficult but the first effort. To a loving spirit, the practice of self-denial becomes an easy task, a grateful duty that brings with it its own peaceful reward; and if ever, which God forbid, your young heart should be crushed with sorrow, you will find more solace in it than you can now understand. What is so beautiful as an unselfish character; and what so sure of winning love? And I know you value the love of others (of some at least) more than any earthly good. But you must not look for sympathy, my dear girl, in this world. Here and there you may find it perhaps, now and then, but not often; and it will be better for you to learn to do without it; you will more easily succeed in annihilating the selfish principle, that great foe to the moral improvement of our nature. And now, love, good night!" and Miss Vaughan kissed Dora and dismissed her, fearful lest her trembling voice should betray that very sympathy which she wished to teach her to do without, and humbled and convinced, yet greatly comforted, the poor girl sought her room. The disappointment which Miss Vaughan had felt on finding that Dora had relapsed during her absence into her old fault vanished, as she watched her steady endeavour to put into practice the lesson she received that night. She well knew that a failing like hers was not to be overcome without repeated struggles; and she trusted to Dora's excellent sense and to her loving heart, through God's grace, to bring her forth victorious in the end. And she was not disappointed. Her resolution never varied from that time; and its effects were soon visible in her softened manner, her less abstracted look, and her ever ready kindness. All rejoiced in the change, and Dora was happier by being more beloved. CHAPTER XVIII. It is an evil incident to man And of the worst that unexplored he leaves COWPER. WITH feelings very different to those of the preceding year, the sisters now resumed their walks in the cold months of spring. Nothing escaped their quick eyes now; objects that they had not seen before, or had only lightly glanced at, were now replete with the deepest interest. Every sign of new life was carefully marked, and every flower welcomed at its coming. And those which had pleased them formerly filled them now with double admiration. The Violet had ever been a favourite, as it is with all, for its sweet perfume and its modest loveliness; but now they knew that the head which bent so gracefully down and hid itself under the broad leaves had a purpose in so doing-a task appointed to it to perform. They knew that it hung there not to please the eye of man only, but to guard the embryo seed, and protect it from the rain and cold dews that might retard its ripening. And when they saw the withered violets hold up their heads boldly, they knew that that was in obedience to another law of nature, in order that they might obtain a better position for scattering the now ripened seed to a distance. In this and in a thousand things they traced the almighty power of God, and every wonder that met their eye increased their joy and thankfulness; and it was not the mere animal joy of existence that they experienced now. Like the young lambs, indeed, they felt that it was "a pleasant thing to be alive," but their hearts responded still more to the following words of that sweet hymn: "They cannot praise Him, therefore we are better than they. We cannot see Him for He is invisible; but we can see His works, and worship His footsteps in the green sod. They that know the most will praise God the best; but which of us can number half His works?" The book of dried flowers was brought out once more, and the collection increased rapidly. By the close of the following summer they had obtained nearly 500 specimens, which after being pressed and dried were neatly arranged in a large book, and over each specimen was written the botanical and English name and the day of the month and name of the place in which it was gathered. Several excursions had been made to places at a distance, where there were chalky hills on which they expected to find certain flowers which they knew were peculiar to that sort of soil, but which they had never yet met with. Among these were the Pasque flower, so called, because it blooms about. Easter time; the beautiful Polygala with its pink, blue, and white varieties. The small Woodruff, the wild Clematis, the Yellow-wort, the Blue Chicory, the Rock Rose, and the Fly and Bee-Orchis. All of these they were fortunate enough to find, at different times, to their very great satisfaction. |