THE HAWTHORN. 71 



thorn blossom with boughs of laurel, and soothed 

 my agitated feelings with the dreams of martial re- 

 nown : yet, even then, the voice had spoken to my 

 inmost soul, that vanity of vanities was written on 

 the best of my choice things. I felt, but under- 

 stood not, and stifled the whisper; and when 

 again the sunburnt soldier, smiling at my pertina- 

 cious adherence to the childish commemoration, 

 playfully showered the May-blos-soms on my head, 

 I felt as though my home was certainly on earth, 

 and my dwelling-place should abide there for ever. 



But my heavenly Father had other views for 

 me, and I was put to school. Very hard to a 

 proud heart and carnal mind was the lesson that I 

 had to learn ; but my Teacher was omnipotent, he 

 subdued my will, and brought me — poor blind 

 rebel ! by a way which I knew not. Upon the 

 darkness that overshadowed my painful path he 

 poured light, and opened to my eyes the gates of 

 life and immortality. Then I went on my way 

 rejoicing ; but one thing was wanting, and that one 

 of the dearest of all created things. I was alone : 

 the beloved companion of infancy and childhood 

 was far away under a foreign sky ; earthly ties 

 multiplying around him, and not a voice to proclaim 

 the solemn admonition, ' This is not your rest : it 

 is polluted.' 



Sweet blossoms of May ! year after year I 

 marked them unfolding,, and every opening bud 



