“What is that?”
6. “The pleasure of rousing the soul to bear pain, and of agreeing with God silently, when nobody knows what is in the breast. There is no pleasure like that of exercising one’s soul in bearing pain, and of finding one’s heart glow with the hope that one is pleasing God.”
“Shall I feel that pleasure?”
“Often and often, I have no doubt; every time you can willingly give up your wish to be a soldier, or a sailor, or any thing else you have set your mind upon, you will feel that pleasure. But I do not expect it of you yet. I dare say, it was long a bitter thing to Beethoven to see hundreds of people in raptures[108] with his music when he could not hear a note of it.”
7. “But did he ever smile again?” asked Hugh.
“If he did, he was happier than all the fine music in the world could have made him,” replied his mother.
“I wonder, oh, I wonder if I shall ever feel so!”
“We will pray to God that you may. Shall we ask him now?”
Hugh clasped his hand. His mother kneeled beside the bed, and, in a very few words, prayed that Hugh might be able to bear his misfortune[109] well, and that his friends might give him such help and comfort as God should approve.