"A lovely day," said Joy.

"Beautiful for youth and health," she answered curtly; "but all days
are the same to me."

"You are ill, then," said Joy, sympathetically.

"Ill, and weary of this life. Nothing goes well in this world: there is
too much sorrow to enjoy anything. But," she added after a brief silence,
"you are young, and cannot enter into my griefs."

"I have come for the purpose of bringing you comfort and hope if you
will but accept it," answered Joy, modestly.

"A stranger could scarcely show me what I cannot find. Be assured,
young maiden, if I had the pleasures you suppose I possess, I should not
be tardy in seeing them. No, no: my life is a succession of cares and
burdens."

Joy was silent a moment, and then said, "But you have health, a home,
and plenty to dispense to the needy, which must be a comfort, at least,
in a world of so much need."

"My home is large and elegant, I admit; but, believe me, the care of
the servants is a burden too great for human flesh."

Joy thought how much better a cottage was, with just enough to meet
the wants of life, than a mansion full of hirelings; and she said,
hopefully, "Our blessings ever outnumber our woes. If we but look for
them, we shall be surprised each day to see how many they are. I am