INVALID RESIDENTS. 277 



on — night, perhaps oblivion — a darkness that 

 knows no dawn — a sleep from which there is no 

 awakening. 



"Let Fate do her worst — there are relics of joy, 

 Bright dreams of the past, that she cannot destroy, 

 That come in the night-time of sorrow and care, 

 And bring back the features which joy used to wear." 



Since that day I can but think of Madeira as a 

 fair garden, a labyrinth of roses, that, instead of a 

 gloomy cypress grove, conceals the portals of the 

 tomb. Yet it is a lovely island, and the sea-breezes 

 are laden with salutary influences that cannot 

 but be beneficial to invalids. There is charming 

 society at Funchal, but the great drawback to 

 happiness is, the anxiety that ever pervades ; for in 

 every circle there are those whose very hours are 

 numbered, although, perhaps, at the time they 

 may appear the gayest of the gay, with a bloom 

 upon the cheek which the uninitiated would 

 mistake for the symbol of health. 



The climate may not be able to cure consump- 

 tion, but it certainly prolongs the lives of the 

 stricken ones, and here they are enabled to breathe 



