﻿THISTLE-DOWN. 121 



twilight, fancy came with more than sunset beauty, and around me 

 threw the cherished shadows of the past. Distance melted away ; 

 home and friends, in pure and sweet communion, were present to 

 my mind all in varying succession came and went. My little 

 Sabbath class seemed clustered around me as they were wont to do 

 Sarah, Lucretia, Celia, Caroline my heart was glad, and bade 

 them welcome to my thoughts. The moments sped swiftly as the 

 shades of night rolled on, and when, above the wooded hill-tops, the 

 reflected sunbeams were fading from the east, stars came gently 

 glimmering. 



A light breeze passed, and bore upon its course a floating whirl 

 of thistle-down ; a moment it was entangled on the casement, until 

 a friendly breath of air again set free and wafted it away. Whence 

 came that little traveller so late upon its journey? Perhaps for 

 many days it has been floating thus along, and many more might 

 come ere it should fall upon the open soil to rest. Or, perhaps it 

 had but just set out, and ere the morning dawn, its little errand 

 would be done. To us it is all the same, for who heeds its light 

 passage, or asks the object of its mission forth? Yet let us not for- 

 get the lesson it may give ; that its course is not unguided, but it is 

 to fall upon some genial sod, and when the wintry storms are passed, 

 the little seed it bears will bud and blossom. 



The autumn leaf, which, circling round and round, in silence falls 

 upon the earth, within its bosom bears no seed, the embryo promise 

 of another spring ; but the winds of night hurry it away ; the snows 

 of winter bury it in brown decay ; its freshness can never be re- 

 stored ; but the light thistle-down, in the still, warm hour, comes 

 forth from its thorny home, and, raised aloft upon its silver plumage, 

 passes on by His command and care, whose hand supports and guides 

 alike its airy circle, or the wheeling orb on which we live. 



And we, like it, shall pass away. To us it is unknown whether 

 the weariness and woes of a long pilgrimage be ours, or to be gath- 

 ered in that full, unequal harvest, not alone of ripened fruit and ready 

 bending sheaves, but earliest, fairest flowers. Nor matters it. The 

 priceless gift of life, with all its sweet endearments, is not to us a 

 blessing if its noble object be unfulfilled. Permitted, by our Saviour's 

 constant intercession, still to rejoice in this world so full of beauty, 



