Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Cheerfulness in Suffering. 95 the vestibule and, O joy! Nora’s voice in its sharp, excited key; “Bless the darlint!”’ she cried, folding the trembling little girl in her arms, “ and it’s frightened to death she is, and Il niver be after forgivin’ meself, niver in the world. Sure and I forgot all-about: yees, yees was so still in the church, and I wint home with Biddy and never minded about yees until I was goin’ up the steps at home, and straight I wint to the sexton’s, and after the bother of getting him up with the kay, I’m here at last.” And Julie, now that Nora was there to take her home, began to be very brave. To be sure, she was a little frightened, she said, but she didn’t care the least bit in the world now, and she walked home as bright and wide awake as if it were broad daylight and nothing had happened. But she never has had the least desire to go to church with Nora again, and when she goes with papa and mamma she is careful to keep her eyes as wide open as possible, and never to lean back upon the cushions, for fear that she might fal asleep and be left alone at night in the church again. ——— CHEERFULNESS IN SUFFERING. BY FRANK T. UNDERHILL. By the pleasant porch in summer Hung with vines of verdure rare, ‘Where the bee, a constant comer, Droned its music on the air; Where the birds, with bliss o’erflowing, Poured their notes the livelong day, And the shadows, coming, going, All around the precinct lay; Sat a boy, the widow’s treasure, Worn and feeble, pale and lame, But upon his face a pleasure Beamed with never-dying flame. Though in posture never moving, Everything gave joy to him; All the scenes of beauty loving, Eye nor spirit e’er grew dim. Childish voices round him sounding, Ne’er a saddened look had he; And his heart, with love abounding, Echoed to their noisy glee. Dearly loved he joyous nature, Hum of bee, and song of bird, And the landscape’s every feature, And the singing brook he heard; Cattle lowing in the meadow, Forest waving in the breeze, Glowing sunlight, falling shadow, Voice of insect minstrelsies. Everybody knew and cheered him, Gave him pleasant word and smile, And the loving souls that neared hii Bettered were themselves the while. On them fell his patient spirit, Beaming through its weight of care, And the joys the blest inherit Rested round his easy-chair. But a change the scene investeth: Vacant is the little seat; Round-the porch a sadness resteth, Late with peace and love replete. Though the birds their song still utter, And the bees their drone outpour, And the leaves of summer flutter By the widow’s cottage door, He that gave the scene its beauty By his patience and his love— Type to us of faith and duty— Rests in painless peace above. connicloooks,. com