While my soul, freed from ev’ry chance of ill,
Soars to that God whose high mysterious will,
Sent me, foredoom’d to grief, with wandering feet
To grope my way through all this fair deceit.”
The mother then breaks forth in a beautiful strain, inculcating confidence in God and submission to his will. We have never heard a homily from any pulpit that has taught these lessons with one half the force and eloquence of these beautiful lines. If any of our readers, in the midst of sorrow, suffering or despair, are inclined to forget that there is “another and a better world,” we advise them to learn patience under tribulation from the lips of Mrs. Norton. We wish we could quote them—but we cannot—we have already transcended our limits and can only give the beautiful and touching end of this “sad and eventful history.”
“There was a pause; then with a tremulous smile,
The maiden turned and pressed her mother’s hand:
‘Shall I not bear what thou hast borne erewhile?
Shall I, rebellious, Heaven’s high will withstand?
No! cheerly on, my wandering path I’ll take;