But a little more of that dreadful place and they would have lain behind.

Her days would have been numbered before she scarce had time to strike a blow in the great human struggle that rages ceaselessly from age to age.

The voice of her genius would have been hushed just as its notes began to thrill, and her message would never have been spoken in the world.

But now Time was once more before her, and oh! the nearness of Death had taught her the unspeakable value of that one asset on which we can rely--Life.

Not, indeed, that life for which so many live--the life led for self, and having for its principle, if not its only end, the gratification of the desires of self; but an altogether higher life--a life devoted to telling that which her keen instinct knew was truth, and, however imperfectly, painting with the pigment of her noble art those visions of beauty which sometimes seemed to rest upon her soul like shadows from the heaven of our hones.
* * * * * Three months have passed--three long months of tossing waters and ever-present winds.