Its pictures are not in
black and sombre hues, but bright and glowing tints; its music--save
when ye drown it--is not in sighs and groans, but songs and cheerful
sounds. Listen to the million voices in the summer air, and find one
dismal as your own. Remember, if ye can, the sense of hope and pleasure
which every glad return of day awakens in the breast of all your kind
who have not changed their nature; and learn some wisdom even from the
witless, when their hearts are lifted up they know not why, by all the
mirth and happiness it brings.
The widow's breast was full of care, was laden heavily with secret dread
and sorrow; but her boy's gaiety of heart gladdened her, and beguiled
the long journey. Sometimes he would bid her lean upon his arm, and
would keep beside her steadily for a short distance; but it was more his
nature to be rambling to and fro, and she better liked to see him free
and happy, even than to have him near her, because she loved him better
than herself.
She had quitted the place to which they were travelling, directly after
the event which had changed her whole existence; and for two-and-twenty
years had never had courage to revisit it. It was her native village.
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