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DURING the summer of 1866, a small work, entitled “ Amy Athelstone," was published, to whose advent a generons public gave a kindly welcome. The success of the little book was doubtless far beyond its merits, it being but the simple story of a suffering life, written, in a season of deep affliction; but He who ruleth the hearts of all men inclined many persons favourably towards the feeble effort of a minister's orphan child. The little book, like a tiny barque, was cast upon the waters— prayer was the helm, and faith the pilot. Sometimes the sea was rough, and sometimes smooth ; but onward the work held its

The poor man spared an hour to glance into its pages

the rich man gave it the nobility their patronage and even Her Majesty, and the Princess of Wales, their gracious acceptance-and for a brief time bright rays of light gladdened a path that had long been dark. Months rolled on, then events occurred leading the author to leave for a period her native land. The mingled and strange

of that voyage (or rather scenes taken from them), are recorded in this volume named “Galveston.” In first preparing the book for the press, the writer had no thought of adding it as a sequel to “Amy Athelstone,” and only consented to do so at the request of a



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