CHAPTER II.


Alicia Linden walked slowly homeward, musing thoughtfully: "This is a
strange world," she soliloquized. "Let philosophers air their utopian
theories about its containing the elements of universal happiness. I
know that human nature, as it is now constituted, is too selfish and
mean to arrive at a state of absolute perfection. Truly, 'men are a
little breed.' 'But, in the future, when that which is whispered in
secret shall be proclaimed upon the housetops,' all our griefs and
wrongs shall be recompensed. Oh, weary women, syllabling brokenly His
precious promises, patient, untiring watcher, whose tired feet have
grown weary of the 'burden and heat of the day,' wait 'God's time!'
Listen to the words that have come down through the dim and forgotten
centuries--a message of 'peace and glad tidings.' 'In my Father's house
there are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you.' Teach us the
lesson of patience, oh Father above! 'Tis a wearisome struggle. This is
a sin-fallen world, and want and misery abound upon every hand. Is it
true, as another has declared--'Every sin is an edict of Divinity; every
pain is a precept of destiny; wisdom is as full in what man calls good
and evil, as God is full in infinitude?'"

Well, God sees, and over all is the loving care of "our Father who art
in Heaven."

And sometimes, when human sympathy is denied us--when the eyes, that
should only beam with pity and affection, turn coldly away, Nature,
bountiful mother, stretches out her arms lovingly, and wooes us to her
with an irresistible, but nameless charm. She cradles the tired head