" How
often, after leaving with disgust the so-called great affairs
of men, do we find traces of angels' visits in quiet scenes of
home.
'The Hours and the Graces appear as ornaments on all thrones
and shrines, except those of Vulcan and Pluto. Alas for us,
when we become so sunk in utilitarian toil as to be blind to
the beauty with which even common cares are daily wreathed!'
And so on and on, with myth and allusion.
Next, Margaret spoke of the friends whose generosity had provided
the decorations on her walls, and the illustrated books for her
table,--friends who were fellow-students in art, history, or
science,--friends whose very life she shared. Her heart seemed full
to overflow with sympathy for their joys and sorrows, their special
trials and struggles, their peculiar tendencies of character and
respective relations. The existence of each was to her a sacred
process, whose developments she watched with awe, and whose leadings
she reverently sought to aid. She had scores of pretty anecdotes
to tell, sweet bowers of sentiment to open, significant lessons of
experience to interpret, and scraps of journals or letters to read
aloud, as the speediest means of introducing me to her chosen circle.
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