So says—or rather sings—the celebrated Gray. It may be however a questionable dictum, whether in verse or in prose. In five out of eight parties in which I remember the truth of the above position to have been doubted and impugned, the decision was against the tear being quickly forgotten, and the sunshine being uniformly unclouded. It is a mere matter of personal experience, and is not worth the mooting. The sequel will at least prove that “sunshine” was paramount to shower.

It will be seen, from the conclusion of the preceding chapter, that, if I was not to be exactly considered as

yet my infancy was one of incessant solicitude to my parents; a solicitude, not bereft however of many hours, and days, and months of unspeakable transport to sympathising and grateful bosoms. There is always hope where there is offspring. In essaying to lift up the veil of futurity, as to the probable des tiny of a child, wishes are reasons; and reasons are too frequently as transparent and unsubstantial as the dews of the morning. My mother's letters are a striking exemplification of this truism. It is evident that, while her heart was half breaking from the gloomiest forebodings, her spirits assumed an artificial and even joyous tone.