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 her conceptions at that moment embraced the outlines of a millennial state, clearly comprehended by the inner sense, but not tangible to others.

Gradually as the shades of evening gathered around her, darker pictures of the poverty and wretchedness of life cast their shadows over these fair visions, and instead of wishing herself released from her earthly abode, she felt the sublimity of a life that demanded, not rest,—not absolution from the trials of this world, but a devotion to its highest interests here.

She thought of the thousands unto whom the light of day comes only as a dreaded tyrant, at whose approach the weary, worn out frame must bid adieu to its needed repose; of the multitude of children treading the paths of sin and vice, through want of a mother's tender care to guide them; of homes surrounded by every physical comfort, made miserable by the discord reigning within, and she thought of those also whose infatuation on some favorite theme of pecuniary gain or worldly fame blinded them to the richness and beauty of this outward life, thus voluntarily depriving themselves of those blessed influences which, in her poetic nature, were closely associated with all solid enjoyment and individual perfection.

Milly was never unhappy, neither was she one of those restless spirits, always discontented with their present position, but she was one who, approaching middle age, could not look back with satisfaction upon a life devoted to no other interest than the trivial occupation of the unmarried woman. Retro-