"I hope we shall he able to pass some time together yet, in this world. But, if God decrees otherwise, here and hereafter, my dearest mother,
Margaret."
Who is there that reads twice a sorrowful story without entertaining an unreasonable hope that its ending may change in the re-perusal? So does one return to the fate of Paul and Virginia so to that of the Bride of Lammermoor. So, even in the wild tragedy of Othello, seen for the hundredth time, one still sees a way of escape tor the victim; still, in imagination, implores her to follow it. And when repeated representation has made assurance doubly sure, we yield to the mandate which none can resist, once issued, and say, "It was to be"
This unreasonable struggle renews within us as we follow the narrative of Margaret's departure for her native laud. Why did she choose a merchant vessel from Leghorn why one which was destined to carry in its hold the heavy marble of Powers's Greek Slave? She was warned against this, was uncertain in her own mind, and disturbed by presages of ill. But economy was very necessary to her at the moment. The vessel chosen, the barque "Elizabeth", was new, strong, and ably commanded. Margaret had seen and made friends with the captain, Hasty by name, and his wife. Horace Sumner was to be their fellow-passenger, and a young Italian girl, Celeste Paolini, engaged to help in the care of the little boy. These considerations carried the day.
Just before leaving Florence, Margaret received
