press my acknowledgments to my venerable friend.
"I am but the humble instrument, my dear young friend," said the bishop; "let us both give thanks to the almighty Searcher of hearts. Let us hope that the work is perfect—for then, you will be the occasion of 'joy in heaven.' And now,' continued he, 'let me ask you one question. Do you feel in that state of mind that you could bear any affliction which might befal you, without repining?"
"I trust, Sir," answered I, "that I could bear it, not only cheerfully, but thankfully; and I now acknowledge, that it is good for me that I have been in trouble."
"Then all is right," said he; " and with such feelings I may venture to give you this letter, which I promised the writer to deliver with my own hand."
As soon as my eye caught the superscription,
"Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed I; "it is from my Emily."
