Grace's Struggles with Herself. 53

front were farms and small cottages, dis-
persed at wide intervals through the valley;
and more to the left rose the tall spire of
Laneham from its bower of elms; while still
further on might be seen another and yet
another village church; and the blue, distant
hills, and hazy summer horizon completed
the picture. That view was one Grace dearly
loved, especially when she was cross and out
of humour; its quiet beauty never failed to
calm the turmoil of her feelings; and now,
as heretofore, its influence began to affect
her. Long she gazed; all was so peaceful,
so happy, so bright, so different to her
thoughts of anger; and then her eye wan-
dered upward to the sky in all its heavenly
splendour, the fleecy white clouds sailing in
the azure space so far above her, and with
a rising sob she hid her face on the seat
by her side, exclaiming, "Oh, mamma,
mamma, how wicked I am! When I ought
to be so happy, and good, and thankful;
when everything is so lovely, and I might
be so contented And to think I am not!
Oh, Georgie, I wish I could be good. You,
with your angel face up there, don't know
how shocking I am-how sinful, how un-
grateful. Oh, what shall I do? -I am so