Memory did but little for her, and she hardly knew how to hope.

She would read, till she had nearly learned all their books by heart, and would play such tunes as she knew by the hour together, till the poor instrument, subject to the sea air and away from any tuner's skill, was discordant with its limp strings.

But still, with all this, her mind would become vacant and weary.

"Mother," she would say, "is it always to be like this ?" "Not always, Kate," the mother once answered.
"And when will it be changed ?" "In a few days,--in a few hours, Kate." "What do you mean, mother ?" "That eternity is coming, with all its glory and happiness.

If it were not so, it would, indeed, be very bad." It may be doubted whether any human mind has been able to content itself with hopes of eternity, till distress in some shape has embittered life.
The preachers preach very well,--well enough to leave many convictions on the minds of men; but not well enough to leave that conviction.