“Picture me then idle, basking, plump, and happy, stretched on a cushioned deck, warmed with constant sunshine, rocked by breezes indolently soft.”

“Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.”

“My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary; Long is the way, and the mountains are wild;Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary Over the path of the poor orphan child.Why did they send me so far and so lonely, Up where the moors spread and gray rocks are piled?Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child.Ye, distant and soft, the night-breeze is blowing, Clouds there are none, and clear starts beam mild;God, in His mercy, protection is showing, Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing, Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled,Still will my Father, with promise and blessing, Take to his bosom the poor orphan child.There is a thought that for strength should avail me; Thought both of shelter and kindred despoiled;Heaven is a home, and a rest will not fail me; God is a friend to the poor orphan child.”

“The second picture contained for foreground only the dim peak of a hill, with grass and some leaves slanting as if by a breeze. Beyond and above spread an expanse of sky, dark blue as at twilight: rising into the sky was a woman’s shape to the bust, portrayed in tints as dusk and soft as I could combine. The dim forehead was crowned with a star; the lineaments below were seen as through the suffusion of vapour; the eyes shone dark and wild; the hair streamed shadowy, like a beamless cloud torn by storm or by electric travail. On the neck lay a pale reflection like moonlight; the same faint lustre touched the train of thin clouds from which rose and bowed this vision of the Evening Star.”

“Human beings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objectsof affection, I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing afaded graven image, shabby as a miniature scarecrow. It puzzles me nowto remember with what absurd sincerity I doated on this little toy, halffancying it alive and capable of sensation. I could not sleep unless it wasfolded in my night-gown; and when it lay there safe and warm, I wascomparatively happy, believing it to be happy likewise.”

“His idea was still with me, because it was not a vapor sunshine could disperse, nor a sand-traced effigy storms could wash away; it was a name graven on a tablet, fated to last as long as the marble it inscribed. The craving to know what had become of him followed me everywhere.”

“Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before you go--embrace me, Jane.”