assed a mise

rful dreams, o

a Christian

pend another

to buy a world

smal terror w

ARD

being clasped in arms whose familiar hold inspired no terror; of hurried words of endearment, and a kiss upon my forehead that lulled the returning pulsations of fear into repose again; then a blank; then shouting voices, and the sound of footsteps, many and heavy, rouse me once more into faint and fitful consciousness, and dim and

by a painted screen. My eyes wander around inquiringly upon the simple furniture of the room, the dark, low walls, the piles of books and pamphlets that heap the shelves irregularly, till they rest upon the two figures at the other end of the room. A fire burns low on the hearth, and beside it sits a man, stooping his head upon his hand. Another in an attitude that is familiar to me, stands with his arm upon the mantelpiece shadi

u believe me when I say it pains me to the heart, after so many years of steadfast and close friendship

think again of what I said; it was an over-anxiety for your happiness that prompte

you must not blame me, if I cannot put aside at once a hope that has got so strong a hold upon me. I promise you to do nothing rashly, to let nothing blind my judgment, to put the test of absence, change of sce

tear up the cherished hope of years, than to put dow

ness that poisoned the very fountain-head of my youth; you have seen how it has tainted the current of my whole life; how that after years of suffering and self-denial, it only needs a word, a r

oom, then came back to his place.

have learned to live without what was life to you once; that I can learn the same hard lesson. I have tried, oh, my friend! I have tried to gain your heights of faith and hope;

mes to se

d hoped for, you know longingly,

d bring you higher than I stand, but by a gentler way, if it be His will! Arthur, it was a fiercer struggle than even you can understand, in which my faith was born. It was a conflic

dead jo

m of some b

is than temptation, as the service of Go

if in involuntary triumph, the

g down, looked in my face with anxious inquiry, while the friends at the other end of the room hushed thei

r come back ye

" she answered, with preciseness of man

me the cry that I had uttered then, this time to be soothed by a tender and familiar voice; then restless with pain, and burning with fever, only pacified from that dream to be hurried off into another, wilder and more terrible. With glaring eyes and demoniac faces, the crowd of men, with Michael at their head, were in mad pursuit of a flying horse and rider; with hideous jeers and yells they urge them on, and c

terror, the agony is dispelled by the low voice that says, "What is it now, poor child?" and panting with fright, I cling to the hand that soothes me, and only from its steady grasp gain anything like peace.