92 FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 



weed which we dignify by that name, and 

 I had to take the buttercups instead ; but 

 there were violets a-plenty, and on the 

 slopes, the tender blue of that of the bird s- 

 foot, the loveliest one of all ; there were the 

 moss pinks, the crowsfoot geranium, the 

 wild azalea, and what-not. How bright it 

 all was, and how happy they looked ! 

 They toiled not, neither did they spin, and 

 yet &quot; Solomon, in all his glory, was not ar 

 rayed, was not arrayed, like one of these, 

 like one of these.&quot; It seemed as if 

 work were needless, and that we, too, 

 should vegetate only, in a world so full of 

 life. 



But no such immunity from the com 

 mon lot is needful. What do I say ? no 

 such immunity is desirable or grateful, ex 

 cept for the moment. It is the weight 

 upon the heart that crushes. The knowl 

 edge of personal wrong-doing is the worst, 

 or perhaps the best, in that it brings with 

 it its own antidote, in the healthful im 

 pulse, but next to this, and in a certain 

 sense the worst of all, is the fact of being 

 cruelly misconceived and misjudged. Ah ! 

 this is the burden which we feel cannot be 

 borne, the wrong for which there appears 

 no remedy, the damned spot which seems 



