A sudden shock of grief takes away the moral strength, and leaves scars behind that open and ache with every breath. Such sorrows as these are the real diseases that make both body and mind aged, even more than those fierce physical attacks which leave the body broken and infirm.

The cold-hearted calumny, the pitiless persecution, the cruel laugh and sneer, the torrent of bitterness poured into a heart which God has already bruised, is a woful human work. And when is the anguish ever to end? For, alas! there are some natures who, while they tread down a falsehood and walk boldly, proudly, yes, even highly and holily over it, apparently unharmed by the adder, feel a fang which strikes in at their hearts, and leaves a mortal misery gnawing there forever.

O for a vigorous, well-educated will that is able, like Janet's, to mount to the level of any summit of emergency, and bear unflinchingly the fierce storms of trial. Very beautiful is her character; its material was firm enough in the beginning to bear the sharpest instruments of sorrow, and the master hand of discipline has sculptured it into a lovely shape. Then her will, instead of being warped and weakened under the fierce heat of trial, has grown into crystalline firmness.

Such beings remind me of what I have read about the formation of mighty mountains; some fiery process compressed together their atoms, and the sharp cuttings of Heaven's storms chiselled out their fair outlines; thus purified and formed, they lift up their lofty peaks in serene, majestic silence, piercing the great empyrean.

But there are volcanic hills as well as granite heights, alas! and as I look over on Vesuvius weeping its fiery

rain, bathing its sides with a hot, angry flood, I cannot help murmuring,

"Great Architect of all!

When Thou didst build the fire-devoted hill,

Thou gav'st it but the semblance of a life!
Say, was it merciful to frame man's heart

Só finely fibred - on the selfsame plan?'

Several days have passed in consulting, arriving at conclusions, and making arrangements. The mind be comes fearfully bewildered when a wave of sudden sorrow first breaks over it; but if one waits patiently, this wretched indecision passes away, and the confusion takes manageable form and shape.

I have resolved to return to America and face full front this shameful grief. I have written to Philip that I shall meet him there; I shall need his presence and protection. Nor shall I be left alone in the mean while. Dear Janet and Venitia instantly decided on accompanying me, kind friends! And Janet makes light of their generosity.

Why, you know," she says, cheerily, "it will be of infinite service to Venitia, such a total and complete change for her in every way will be obtained by it.”

Venitia, too, takes great interest in the proposed journey. It seems to give her a fresh impulse. When the news of my trouble came, it was the first thing that aroused her and brought back her natural self. The resenting of my wrongs by indignant words of sympathy appeared to be a relief for her, -a vent for her own unuttered suffering.

We have had in view many ways of returning. As Philip cannot be in America until autumn, I do not care to arrive there before he does, nor do I wish to remain

in Europe; therefore we have plenty of time before us, and Janet proposes we should return by a sailing vessel. We have often longed for the chance or opportunity of taking a slow, leisurely voyage on the ocean; and as Venitia is still feeble from her severe illness, it will be better for her.

Janet thinks that the monotony and stillness of such a voyage will be beneficial mentally to us, as well as physically; quiet down the fever and fret, cause the fierce vibration of feeling to fall back into a steady pulsation, give me courage for the coming struggle, and Venitia strength to accept with woman's endurance the new life.

Mr.

So we have concluded to take the sea-voyage. Rochester and our banker have kindly undertaken to charter for us a nice, safe fruit-ship on a return voyage. They have in view a pretty little clipper, now at Constantinople, but which will be in Palermo in a fortnight.

And now it is not a mere partial farewell to Naples I am taking, with the prospect of a fair journeying to some other delightful place, but probably an eternal farewell to Europe, a sight of the Promised Land from Mount Pisgah and then a mournful turning back into the old Wilderness. A mysterious, wayward destiny controls some lives.

LEAVING NAPLES.

UR last night in Naples. Dolce Napoli! We sail to-morrow afternoon in the steamer which runs between this city and Palermo. There

we shall join our little clipper, which boasts the fanciful name of "Zephyr." It was originally a warsteamer, built with great care for Santa Anna of Mexico; but the news of his downfall came just as the little naval toy was completed, then it was altered into a sailing vessel, and put on the Mediterranean and Levant fruit service.

Every arrangement has been made for our comfort. Janet, whose easy means enable her to indulge in extravagant luxuries when she wishes, and this she loves to do for the pleasure of others, has had a good cabinet piano fitted into the cabin. She has also had strong water-proof cases made, and had them lashed to the quarter-deck; in these have been placed a small, wellselected collection of books. The preparing for this voyage has given her infinite satisfaction, and she has not forgotten even such pleasant and palatable luxuries as wines, fruits, and the like. She came to me yesterday holding up triumphantly a peculiar looking tin box; it had a curious arrangement for the lid, which I did not comprehend.

"It is a water-proof case, and can be closed hermetically," said Venitia, examining it. "What is it for?"

Janet enjoyed our surprise a little while, then going to my desk, took this journal, clasped it, and laid it in the box.

"For Ottilie's journal!" exclaimed Venitia.

Yes, she is the only member of our family who keeps one; and if any accident should happen to us during the voyage, I should not like to have the book lost. We shall not be sunk at sea any the sooner for making preparations for such an event," said Janet, coolly.

So nightly I am to shut up this precious volume in the

box.

To-day I heard from Luigi. He wrote to me immediately on receiving my letter which informed him of our intended return to America. He begs of me to keep him always advised of our movements, and to do as he shall,

- write at stated times unfailingly and trustingly, even though we may sometimes miss hearing from each other. He makes no allusion to his late trouble, mentions Janet and Venitia naturally, sends his remembrances to them; altogether the letter is just such a one as he might have written two months ago, before he and Venitia had gathered the sad fruit of knowledge, which has driven them from their paradise.

I knew that from his writing thus, he wished his letter to be seen by them, so I handed it to Janet. She gave the letter to Venitia without any remark. When it was returned to me I found pencilled on the margin, in Venitia's handwriting, "Dear Ottilie, remember me affectionately always to Luigi whenever you write to him."

Jean Paul somewhere speaks of "concluding a great past with a little present"; such has been our farewell