. Thomas à Kempis and the Brothers of the common life . ad more in them than what she had yet read. * Telemaque wasmere bran ; Scotts novels and all Byrons poems were hardly whatshe wanted. She wanted some key that would enable her tounderstand, and in understanding endure the heavy weight thathad fallen upon her young heart. If she had been taught real-learning and wisdom, such as great men knew, she thought sheshould have held the secrets of life. And so she applies herselfto hard study for a time, and a certain mirage would now andthen rise on the desert of the future, in which she seemed t


. Thomas à Kempis and the Brothers of the common life . ad more in them than what she had yet read. * Telemaque wasmere bran ; Scotts novels and all Byrons poems were hardly whatshe wanted. She wanted some key that would enable her tounderstand, and in understanding endure the heavy weight thathad fallen upon her young heart. If she had been taught real-learning and wisdom, such as great men knew, she thought sheshould have held the secrets of life. And so she applies herselfto hard study for a time, and a certain mirage would now andthen rise on the desert of the future, in which she seemed to seeherself honoured for her surprising attainments. For awhile shewent on with resolution enough, though with an occasional sinkingof heart, as if she had set out to the Promised Land alone, andfound it a thirsty, trackless, uncertain journey. But, alas ! as dayswent on discouragement deepened, and tears filled her eyes,while she had to endure a wide hopeless yearning for that some-thing, whatever it was, that wa&.greyest and best on this HIS WORDS HAVE A SINGULAR INFLUENCE, ^i One day in her lonely trouble she listlessly examines the bookson a window-shelf, but one after another is laid down, till at lastshe takes up one with the title of Thomas k Kempis. Thename had come across her in her reading, and she felt the satis-faction which everyone knows of getting some ideas to attach toa name that strays solitary in the memory. She took up the littleold clumsy book with some curiosity ; it had the corners turneddown in many places, and some hand, now for ever quiet, hadmade at certain passages strong pen and ink marks, long sincebrowned by time. Maggie turned from leaf to leaf, and readwhere the quiet hand pointed. . Know that the love of thyselfdoth hurt thee more than anything in the world. ... If thouseekest this or that, and wouldst be here and there to enjoy thyown will and pleasure, thou shalt never be quiet nor free from care,for in everything somewhat will be w


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