A BIRD’S NEST, 
And selfish in her to stay so long. Taking the 
pos- night train from Chicago, she would ho Jp 
!ou'b home the morning of the second day, and kg 
ires, lake them by surprise. 
ebel- They got under way before eight o’clock ua 
rovi- of a rainy night, and, finding herself in pos* 
? Is session of a whole sea*., she began to feel the I * 
om ? ebb of the week or two of excitement she 
> her had just escaped from; and adjusting her 
olish Carpet-bag, dear Fred’s present, (which he 
y be had accompanied with an Injunction to 
was never lose sight of it for a moment,) on the 
outer end of the seat, she laid her head on it 
a we wearily and was soon fast asleep. She must 
hink have slept soundly, for the conductor 
3 ex* touched her gently before sbo waked, 
grief “ Will you give this gentleman a seat ? ” 
h Is His voice was kind; he look pains to have 
that it 60 , she thought. Comprehending after an 
Instant the demand, she lifted her head and 
you her eyes at the same moment, the latter rusl- 
tho ing full upon a handsome, manly face that 
’ we was chiefly romarkablo at the moment lor an 
d expression nt seeing her wake. The 
signed promptitude and perfection. And if 
he sometimes withdrew into his temple, he 
seemed rather strengthened than enervated 
by tho worship. 
All this was not compassed in a night, but 
spread itself over seasons, 
CHAPTER III. 
Meantime the real Mary De Forest, 
innocent of this good work, lmd found other 
good work and blessing with it. The house¬ 
hold into which she first enterod from that 
weary journey, was one of sorrow. The 
man, her uncle, had been suddenly killed. 
It was an aggravated case; besides the 
shock and the bereavement, there was the 
still worse horror offamily dissensions. The 
breaking up of borne and the breaking up 
of unity, a double grief. Her poor aunt, 
utterly broken, met her with outstretched 
arms, and cried, “ The Lord has sent you to 
me, Mary.” 
She did not question, but accepted the 
cry. If the wants of those who appealed to 
her had been less, she would have Lacked the 
courage to help, but when at first ber pro* 
sencc seemed enough, and the story of com¬ 
monplace details of her family gave consola¬ 
tion, she was encouraged to go on forgetting 
more and more that she was helpless and 
hopeless. There was every tiring to do,—to 
coinfort, to uphold,—to brighten. She did 
not forget her own burden, to which theirs 
seemed light, but she covered it and overlaid 
it with thoso common virtues of sympathy 
and care which we are apt to overlook in 
oar summing up of life’s benefit*. 
No strong mind which holds its balance 
can always dwell in eclipse; and no great 
heart, which retains strength tef answer to 
the call for help w ill break. One hurt may 
pain us, disfigure w, cripple us; but if wo 
can yet give somewhat, like CmusT, like. Him 
we shall receive life. 
Little by little, as the summer went by, 
life edged its way back Into her thought, 
and sho begun to wonder vaguely if 6he 
could take up the burden again for herself, 
when she should be done carrying it for these. 
IIow was it possible after that one imperious 
emotion which had conquered everything 
and—been last, that one should come back 
to the beggarly elements 1 To die was infin¬ 
itely easier, to live in somo healthy outside 
work was possible, but the old life before 
this was—oh I no, no, no I God had helped 
her in this—helped when she had only cried 
out of her deep! 
Over my BbadeU doorway 
Two little brown-winged birds 
Have chosen to fashion their dwelling 
And etter their loving words: 
All day they are going and coming, 
On errands frequent and fleet, 
And warding over and over, 
“ Sweetest, swoct, sweet, 0 sweat!” 
Their necks are changeful and shinies?, 
Tbelr eye* are lUte living game; 
And all day long they are busy 
Gathering straw# and stems, 
Hint, and leathers, and grasses. 
And half forgetting to eat. 
Yet never falling to warble, 
“Sweetest, swoot, sweet, O sweet 1” 
I scatter crumb* on *he doorstep. 
And fling theta some floesy threads • 
They fearlessly gather my bounty. 
And turn up tbetr graceful bends. 
And ohatter. and dance, and flutter. 
And sorapo with their luiy feet, 
Telling me over and over, 
“ Sweetest. *weei, #weet, O sweet!’ 
What if the sky Is clouded ? 
What If tho rain comes down 1 
They are all dressed to meet it, 
In water-proof suits of brown. 
They never mope nor languish. 
Nor murmur at storm or heat, 
But say, whatever the weather, 
“Sweetest, sweet, sweet, O sweet!” 
Always merry and busy, 
Dear little brown-winged birds! 
Teach mo the happy mnglo 
Hiddon In those soft words. 
Which always, in shine or shadow, 
6o lovingly you repeat. 
Over, and over, and over, 
“ BwectMst, sweet, sweet, O sweet!” 
[Florence Percy. 
amuse 
conductor smilingly passed on, and tlio 
stranger, with a pleasant apology for having 
disturbed her, took the place of her kutnblo 
carpet-bag. She made 6omc suitable reply, 
and glancing round the crowded car, which 
had been so sparcely occupied when she last 
saw it, was gratefully surprised to see that 
she had been the last one disturbed from tho 
possession of a whole seal. Being so dis¬ 
turbed at, last, she was still not fairly roused, 
for she leaned her head sleepily back on the 
seat. It was high-backed, like the one she 
remembered occupying when she was going 
out,, but if it were adjustable, she would 
scarcely like it tilted back now. Still, it was 
not uncomfortable, leaned against a little 
sideways. 
“ If you will allow me, this heavy shawl 
will not make a bad pillow, I think.” 
“ You will need it yourself, sir.” 
“Oh, It will spread across the whole seat 
beautifully, and 1 want to make some amends 
for rousing you so unceremoniously.” 
As her bead fell buck against the soft 
shawl,and she observed that tho stranger also, 
with his face turned toward her, bad settled 
down to rest, she was sleepily conscious of 
its being 4*111 awkward position, but lost It 
quickly in her drowse- It might have been 
an hour later when she awoke suddenly 
with that thought In her mind, and had no 
wish for more sleep. Openiug her eyes she 
saw what she had before comprehended, 
that the man was sleeping, with his head 
leaning unconsciously close to hers, his face 
shaded and partly covered with liis slouched 
hat. It was odd; she smiled to herself, 
thinking about it a moment before she lifted 
her Lead, and essayed noiselessly to change 
her position. She was not so still, however, 
but that lie started awake at the flint motion. 
“ Had he disturbed lier again f” No, sbo 
had waked quite naturally this time. 
“ Would she not do him the favor to not 
mind him at all, and take her rest as though 
he were not there, at least as nearly so as 
possibla, considering the amount of room ho 
occupied. For himself, he was on the road 
so much that ho found it as easy sleeping 
there as on a couch. She had not found it 
difficult to rest either, he thought,” with a 
smile. “ No, she had been over tired, and 
had 6lept soundly.” 
She laid her head back on her two bands 
a little further from bim, and shut, hot eyee, 
not to sleep, but to relieve him from the 
necessity of talking to her. Opening them 
again in a few moments, she was aware that 
he had been looking at her from under his 
cap, and now that his eyes were shut, tho 
began in turn studying his face, what of it 
was visible. It was a prepossessing one, fair 
and open; you read his integrity in bold 
print. Suddenly he looked out at her with 
his fresh blue eyes, and said, with a little 
laugh:—“ It is quite Fair, I own. I did not 
mean to be rude, but—pardon me—yours is 
not a common face, ancl I was trying to 
make it out a moment ago when you flashed 
your eyes open. We shall never meet again 
probably after to-niglit, and at any rate it 
can do no harm to be our better selves as 
though we were not strangers, or perhaps 
all the easier because we are so. There is so 
much conventionalism in ordinary society 
that it is the rarest thing to find a genuine 
expression of thought, or even a thought 
itself with any genuineness in it. Your par¬ 
don again, but it occurred to me”- He 
slopped abrubtly.—[To be continued. 
lira lists 
SAVED BY A SATCHEL 
after another on the table—“ ribbons, collars, 
humph, humph!” with a blush, “ not ex¬ 
pected to know,” as lifting an article care¬ 
lessly it, had unfolded, revealing wonders of 
rubles and embroidery. The blush was gen¬ 
uine, for a brusque business man, who 111 
his hand-to-hand fight with the world had 
found 110 time to cultivate the nameless 
graces of social lift;, had also found no time 
to wear oft in vice or ennui tho wholesome 
pride of innocence, ne essayed daintily to 
reduce the garment in question to its former 
compact smoothness, but gave it. up awk¬ 
wardly after a moment. Returning to his 
search lie found yet a dress, soft neutral- 
tinted silk, which also fell apart in his hands, 
and refused, with slippery artfulness, to be 
brought into any kind of order, At last, 
with a sigh, he threw it across a chair where 
the waist ancl sleeves hung over the back, 
with an uneasy suggestion of somebody hang¬ 
ing, head downwards. A pair of shoes, 
which 6eemed too small for any but a child, 
showing in the delicate leather the shape of 
the little foot; and whatever else goes to 
make up a change of dress for a woman. 
I 11 tho very bottom, rolled up in a handker¬ 
chief which repeated in its corner the name 
already familiar to him, was a scaled enve¬ 
lope containing something hard. This he 
laid aside for future reference, if necessary, I who searches for something. 
Heavens! — this was getting ridiculous. He 
could go to bed. 
He advertised next day, and after making 
it bis business to watch the papers and the 
post-office for a fortnight, he carne to the 
conclusion that ho was a fool, not to mince 
the matter, and might as well recover from 
this maudlin state, lie acknowledged to 
hav* Veen in the habit of stealthily opening 
Ids wardrobe daily, nightly, rather, just to 
see that the satchel was tlicro, and going, 
quite in the dark, to touch the dress, always 
with an odd sensation that the mere know¬ 
ing it was sate did not account for. He 
would bring himself to account and have 
done with this. 
But there is nothing so indelible as the 
thing wo try to forget, and nothing so volu- 
blc as mystery. It buttonholes us at the 
most, inopportune times, it wears us out with 
its perpetual challenge. And though John 
Gray resolutely entered into his business, 
though he did not leave a duty undone, 
though ho nijvor wrote De Forest when he 
meant Gray, nor opened the wardrobe, nor 
talked to himself, yet he was no less the 
victim of the dream. He became a silent 
man, and attained an eager look, like one 
He acquired 
and proceeded to examine over again all the the habit of reading whole pages of names in 
articlessol dress, and to shake oat the empty the registers of hotels, of looking at busi- 
satchel, in hopes of finding other letters or ness cards, of collecting catalogues of 
papers which should serve to designate the schools, so that he was quite a dictionary in 
whereabotite of this mystic person, Mary that respect. Travelling East one day, lie 
De Forest. There was nothing; not a met, an old friend, ancl surprised him with 
Jones, do you know of any 
Was it not best of all to 
lay her life in His hauiJ-Btod be content ? If 
it were only possible. 
It was about tins time that going to church 
one day, because ber aunt bad wished it and 
without any thoughts of personal benefit, she 
saw that the minister was an old man, with 
that look of having fought the good fight 
and kept the faith, which we sometimes see 
and which lx always an inspiration. She 
had this thought on her face when he rose 
to give out his text. 
“Why art thou cast down, O my soul, 
and why art, thou disquieted in me ? Hope 
thou iu God, for 1 shall yet praise Him for 
the help of His countenance.” 
Looking up as he said the last words, and 
resting his keen eyes on her face, lie paused 
a moment ancl repeated, “Hope thou in 
God, for I shall yet praise Him for the help 
of His countenance.” 
Perhaps she did not know rightly if the 
sermon were profound, or the sentences nice¬ 
ly turned, being so conscious of its aptness 
in relation to her ow n case, and of a thrill of 
conviction that had its origin in the heart of 
the preacher. 
He was not the officiating clergyman, but 
an old friend of the family, and went, home 
with them. Taking Mary's hand when her 
aunt presented her, with tho familiarity of 
his age and profession, ho looked in her eyes 
without other greeting, and asked “What 
did my text mean to you to-day ?” 
“ I don’t know*, sir.” 
“ I thought I had a message for you.” 
Pausing a moment, and seeing she did not 
answer, he said, “My dear child, there is no 
lack iu tho fullness ot God ; liis mercy en- 
dureth forever.” 
“ But, sir-” 
He shook his head. “ Say that you do not 
believe all that I do, you can understand 
how one who had the power would say, 
‘ Come unto me, aud I will give you rest.’ 
You have been walking a thorny road; your 
feet are torn and your soul is thll of weari¬ 
ness. If one told you that there were rest 
and peace, you would, perhaps, look up to 
6 ee.” Blie smiled. “ My dear, I know that 
my Redeemer lives, just you look up and see.” 
If lie had proposed an argument, she 
might have worsted him; if he lmd railed 
against her doubts anti asserted himself of¬ 
fensively, she would have recoiled; but when 
be said, “ I had a message for you,” with the 
same easy confidence that ho might have 
mentioned that the day was fair, she could 
not dispute him. And besides, if. was strange 
that he should have preached to her, and 
that he knew so well what she would say, 
that he did not. need to hear her speak. 
What if he had a messege ? Why, then 
God’s hand again in this, leading liergradu- 
the question 
family of the name of De Forest ?” 
“Eh! where?” 
“ Oh, anywhere in the State.” 
“ Why—yes—there was a family of that 
name in Herkimer county when I lived 
there, hut I never knew them particularly. 
Why, Gray ?” 
“ I want to find some one of that name; 
Will you write me the address on this slip of 
paper ?” 
Coming back that route, be stopped off at 
the little station and made his inquiries. 
Nothing gained. It was not a numerous 
family, and there teas no Mary in the list. 
Later, he went off on another tangent after a 
lawyer whose card he had found in a coun¬ 
try newspaper. Not a lengthy journey, but 
a weary one, from which he came back dis¬ 
heartened, and acknowledged that he had 
disobeyed both the spirit and letter of his re¬ 
solves and deserved sentence. 
People did not analyze the change they 
saw in John Gray, or 1 bought he tv as be¬ 
ginning to take his wages like a sensible man. 
He was successful, rich, why should lie not 
court society, and what was there wonderful 
in his acquiring the case and address he had 
been thought wanting in? Money could do 
anything, even polish a rough diamond like 
him. He was no longer restless and eager, 
but, like a man who had a healthy heart to 
give to his work, went, on with a project he 
had begun before, and which he now seemed 
bent on completing with more than the de- 
