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A BRECONSHIRE LOVE STORY. CHAPTER III, THE CONFRERES TOGETHER, § 1111, Sunday at UWl11 (« 0vven could° have I imagined it possible in a strange house 6zi^S »i^»A 0ur^0lls part iUg^g fflEi °f was tfaat' then and ever after, he Jm could never class the Uwm in the l^P~^jH8{ same category as other houses. There was such an roir of informality about everythium-tbg in- mates were 80 and hospi- tatile that, once fir v'^ given the entrSe, he found himself ler| threading the wil- o (i Paths and strolling down the avenue !0 wm more frequently than ho oared i,j3 c°nnt. He was always welcomed; woti1rfn8^ve natar9 could that. Nythfa hon C01tl8 flying round the corner of the tQ»Se to meet him, with her troop of dogs, ?n. °* some wonderful new project, only half ^JOyed till thoroughly discussed with «on- t Te' Gwyn- ooaa'ng home from her daily !tfe, expected to- see him there ready to *lsist her to dismount, and Captain Lloyd ^Biabled if he was not at hand to share his smoke. Even on rainy days, when I*? impossible for him to take out his gun, Waa more natural than for him to QJP^. down to Uwm to find out how for hi6 -Was Progressing in her Spaniah; ^a't thafcuhe wa3 ea £ er to take up tu>or. ^ua2e> ha had offered himself as native tongue 'wlt h t?|C?h7°U to <tudy yoar should call forth '» N. n! zea' an<* ardour it impatience, as sh« J awot>ld#sk wish fiery table to the perusal J t°Wl? at her own iittle b«t Owen held onf «,+ -?r beIove(1 Cymraeg "«a"'wo'i de,pi"' nulaor< burred U»<\ no use rae>" be de- few week, Aum 0nlj dowa ™ Wales for a l?et year," lllake I'act those words, unless you would 11 for life," cann> the sweet, that," hi'1 think you can expect me to do ^°r you u calmly> It is all very well fePeat T w Welsh. You live here, but, I som« ??ver undertake a thing unless there And b^Qt 10 be gained by it." Mulder3,! ^0,0^ed,at him, so tall and broad- ^thfa f W'^ ^'s oa^ra> resolute face, him fro ^at no of words would move *lnnv k* standpoint. She was too sweet and 1 *Sh% mature to be fretful, but the gay tu would fade out of her eyes as she I a away, and Gwynie would look cojjJj e ouriously at Glanafon. Sho *ist not bear to se0 ber chii<1 ar?r ^warted in anything. It being a i^ Wet aftern00n> they had taken refuge h6r e smoke-room, and Iv'ythfa was burniflg t0^Pretty oheeka orer the fire waking 'Co„/yew ought to help each other in th»^hlnS'"Le said- Will Jwu let me stir << for you P *n<l t°J\f''e-res ar* to help and aid j interest in each other's work and am a*Plration8," she answered, with a *0,1Iid nJ^r ^er r°ice' hoped 1 had "&o lje» but it soom8 I was mistaken." s*i<3, earn^iM* 8a-v tbat» confrere" he Y?ssibleu«t "But can you point out what ft °uld it ° nat»vo tongue would be to me ? e6oe a me in my wanderings through «n°ieut ulTurke^ ? Yes, I know it is an j°win» ,anoaage. and that it is rioh and qay >, i nit it is not ^he language of the D gel rou think you are taking r. very wOf the question? You have as ales- Have landlords no ^r°Per ti ei as tenants ? Is it not right and ^°Ur 0w *vou should be able to speak to !^er £ ym Peo^e i° their own tongue, 'hey en must know the language before j inducted into a Welsh living, e*teDd "ink a like obligation should i}je ° la^dowaerc, Not only that, but ^ake 0a £ ht to live among their people, *1 ab !8°na' ^pterest in their well-doing, i °Ve *1') in the country which calls 4l>(ia o,0nS'' Nythfa stood with her small l3°'sed aiPed al>ove her head, one tiny foot c°^iuo°n the fender, and the rioh colour "if an<3 ?oing in her cheeks. Ile) el thought of it in that light, cnil: 8'leHt af. 7 n' *^ter a few a few minutes' 1 bp];J ^l°w'ng embers, he added, e'sh'"V<i ^°U 416 ri«^t. I will learn (( » i Aow, that is what T call x -1 lhJ?8 Tfy ^clnfTereZTlt*' rot f Point, but he is open to conviction "'T1161' ,<? across to him with one of her irrL?1^0' &Tlt ■»$" °r° v 5 IS decidedly good.' at r> e,tter even then the stuff we used to p-*t tiugby," was bis verdict. And then he Ian u0n to sPea!r of those days, and her merrr hov^ laioat Rt tbft re°ital °f some sckooi- er;.Pra.ik, or of later times, when he had •eld li"gl>y for (.'ambrid^e. He had c0ll)°m refen'et-! to thi>se(Yiay*She knew, of i»i f"Se'tllat be w"9 one ot' t h" A.berhonddus |. act, thai he was hsir to that old title, but I of his school and college life she knew nothing. I must say I think you came thro' college with flying colours," she said at last. But I should pity the poor candidates that went up for examination if you were one of the examiners." Why, may I ask H Because they must expect. no mercy, no passing over of some trivial error or mistake by you." Do you think me such a flintstone, my confrere he asked, a little hurt, Not exactly a flint-stone, for you are capable of receiving the softening rays of the sun," she answered, while she turned two very friendly eyes upon him. Ah The visitor's bell," and she made a little grimace. Are you obliged to go ?" u Yes, it would be mean to leave Gwyn to entertain alone, but you need not come unless you would like to join us when papa comes in for his cup of tea. And ob, please, not a word about the toffee making," was her laugh- ing entreaty as she pictured to herself the incredulous amazement of her visitors could they bat have peeped behind the scenes and seen the reserved Mr. Glanafon engaged in suoh a friendly occupation. The shooting season was at an eud. April bad given place to May, and still Owen Glanafon lingered on at Derri Farm—perfectly content, it would seem, with his quiet life. Two or three times he had run up to London to spend a few days at his own home, but he was always ready to return, and with a glad sense of pleasure he would find himself turning in at the now familiar drive gate, and see once more the old grey house nestling among the trees, Some- times he would surprise the Lloyds on the tennis courts, or Nythfa would be startled by the sudden shadow thrown aoross her book as a hand was stretohed out to take hers, for he would never tell them which day he was to return. He said it was far pleasanter to give them a surprise. One afternoon—it was late in May-be arrived, and, walking into their midst, found that Nythfa was not there to welcome him. Where is your sister?" he asked, with a keen sense of disappointment. She has gone to a tennis party at the Fare's," replied Gwynie. "But I thought she said she ne'er went to thing* of that kind," he said, with quick vehemence. And I wanted to show her the Welsh book I have succeeded at, last in erettinff for her." "She will be sorry to have missed you," said Gwynie, "Had you a pleasant time away ? He sat down and tried to carry out the old plan of giving an account of all he had seen and done sinoe he went away but, somehow, his descriptions lost half their pleasure when Nythfa's bright young face was not there to show approval, or to nod and smile her gay voioe to ply him with innumerable questions. How she would have enjoyed that joke of Charlie's, and made merry over her dlwom- fiture, when delegated to take a young 15 foreign princess into dinner. He would even have eoufessed to her that he had felt horribly nervous. He was too restless to keep still, and at length asked abruptly what time Nythfa was expected home. I think 1 shall walk in that direction," he said; "I may meet her, and I shall be glad of a stroll after being in the train all day." So it happened that as Nythfa was walking quietly homewards with her great retriever in attendance, she saw at all,figure striding along the road to meet her. It is Owen, I believe," and the next moment her hands were clasped in his. Why did you run away the very evening I came back ?" he asked. Why didn't you tell us vou were coming ?" she retorted, with one of her bright, glad snules. "Do you imagine I should have gone to that stupid tennis if I bad known. Now Gwyn will have beard all the news, and I have missed—everything." He ought to have been satisfied with the frank, unaffected warmth of her munner, and I perhaps he was, for his whole face softened, and he met her laughing glance with one of 1 his own slow smiles. "1 am very glad to be here again, and to see you, Nythfa." He had ¡ never called her by her name before, and she put it down to the excitement of the moment. It is very nice to hear you say that, for you must have had a very gay t:me away," she remarked. It was too gay for me, my confrere. I am not fitted for such a life. Do you know, 1 counted the hours till I could ran down here again. 1 am never so happy anywhere as here." She coloured alittle as it dawned upon her how much she had to do with the pleasure of his life. And I look upon the grey house as my harbour of refuge," he added. You are too young to need r. refuge; you must win your spurs before you leave the tight, old confrere and there was something in the now quieted and grave face that stayed the I words he was going to utter. He was silent a moment, battling iyith his disappointed hopes, and then he said, "Will you give me your advice, confrere, on a rather ¡ vexed question that has arisen. My father ¡ and Uncle Aberhonddu think I ought not to isolate myself down here, and they have sent me armed with introductions. They say 1 ought to go into society—that it is j' a el duty I owe to the position [ must one day occupy. What do you think ? Must I give up the old life that has been so happy. it seems cruel to break up our little circle. The Cwm and Derri form a centre of their own, shut out as it were from the rest of the world." They were passing dow". th" avenue in the glory of the sunset, its rays tinging: their path with gold. It was a hard question he bad given her to decide, for these months had been strangely happy to her, too, and if he were to launch out upon the stream of county society, theie would be an end to the old friendly intercourse. He had been their own especial fiiend for so long, it was hard to give him up to the world, while they must still live their old quiet life. She knew thak he was reading her ¡'ace eagerly, and a little sigh escaped her. You do not agree w;th them. You do not consider it my duty, Nythfa £ Ves, my old confrere, I do. You have lived too long in solitude. You must go out and mingle with the world." There was a sweet, regretfu1 look in the brown eyes, though the small head was carried proudly, and then she went on in a ^ayer tone, "It is not seemly for the Hon. wen Glanafon—the future Lord Aberhonddu — o live in an old farmhouse, even though he as the nicest ot housekeepers in old Mrs. Jenkins. But this evening, at least, we ean spend in the old way. Excuse me now, there are only a few minutes to dinner. You will find papa in the drawing-room," And then she ran away to her room to have a few minutes alone to stifle the half sob that would rise in her throat, and force back the half shed tears. How could I expect these happy days to last," she thought. My confrere is sad to-night, but he will soon get accustomed to the change m his life—though if he is true, if he is faith- ful and sincere, he will come back to his old friends some day," and with this comforting thought she ran down to the drawing-room, a fair vision of dainty girlhood, robed in white, with great bunches of purple hearts- ease fastened into the lace of her dress. And so a new order of thiugs reigns at Derri Farm, and invitations come pouring in upon Owen Glanafon. People from afar, who had only just discovered his presence in the county, and those who lived in his neigh- bourhood, came to call, and the quiet home- stead was besieged with smart carriages. Very often his dogcart rattled by the old grey house of Cwm, where a deeper stillness and calm seemed to rest than of old. It was useless to try and hide the fact-Nythfa missed her confrere sadly; she missed the long talks over favourite books; his quiet, grave appreciation; the old ohivalrous courtesy it had always been Owen's pleasure: to offer to his confrere. if Mr, Glanafùn might have come in now and again to tell us I how he is enjoying his wason.' But it is so easy to forget, Gwyn. Set how we arc thrown away like an old glove," and Nythfa's eyes flashed ominiously, "Those Faro girls get more odious every day. Mina said to me to- ¡ day, By-the-bye, how is it you never I see young Glanafon now. We met I him at the castle tennis party yesterday, and I asked him about your courts.' He really did not know, not I having played on them. But I thought you turned in at the Lloyds' very often.' rOh, dear no, Miss Pare, you quite mistake. It is three weeks since I have seen them,' and then he stalked away to talk and flirt with that pretty Miss Aber. I should like to have seen him," wound up Nythfa, with a suspicion of tears in her voice. It is such an unex- pected phase to break out with him. Come, Gwyn, a set of tennis. I feel I could conquer Henshaw to-day." do I," cries a familiar voice, and down through the wilderness came Owen Glanafon, greeting them in the old frank way, Every tree and shrub and flower seem to have grown more beautiful sinoe I was here last. Come, my confrere, tell me I have worked well. I would not take even one brief holiday and come in and see yon, for I knew how much I should want to stay." "Good boy," oried Nythfa, in her liveliest tones. Now, te!l us about everything— receptions, balls, dinners. You have had them in such endless succession, and we have had nothing." Poor little confrere/' and for one moment he touched the small brown band, while he was fain to tell her that in those gay gather- ings there was not one to compare with her, and that images of her bright, wavy hair, and laughing eyes had haunted him with teasing pertinaoity. "Now, I have given yon a true and graphic report, and there is only one little addendum to make. lam to be allowed cessation from all frivolities, for my people. are anxious I should contest the Plas Division next year." "That means we shall lose you, but private feelings must be banished." if Yes, they have to be put aside," he said, earnestly. "But, Nythfa, you will help me? You can tell me so muob. You know the Welsh people so well." II Of course, I will do anything for my oountry, and J'las needs a good member in the House. Yes, confrere, we will work I heart and hand to send you up our represen- tative r Three cheers for Owen Glanafon." And then she stooped to oaress her retriever, and as her brown curls mingled with his black I ones she whispered in his ear," It is all right, I great heart. lie is true as steel, and has not I. forgotten little confrere? ■' It is St, David's Eve, a wild, blustering night, and the wind is sweeping the rain in I heavy sheets across the Uwm Valley. From the unshuttered windows of Cwm House a oheerful light irradiates the darkness, a beacon of hope to the weary pedestrian, who, after the buffetings of the storm, is glad to gain I the shelter of the verandah. Here he pauses, and looks within. The drawing-room is bright, with a blazing fire and tall wax candles in old silver sconces, whose light shimmers on the heavy crimson curtains and Indian tapes- trios. A great wicker chair is drawn up on the hearth, and in it sits Nythfa-the slender brown fingers busily fashioning rosettes out of a pile of green ribbon iu her lap. At her feet lies her great retriever. She looks so sweet and dainty in her white dress that Owen Ulanafon lingers, loth to break the spell. He is cold and wet and weary. The last weoks have been weeks of incessant work and excitement to him. He has travelled many a mile to-day has come as fast as rail can bring him to Cwm yet he hesitates to break in upon the pretty scene. Great-heart oomes to his aid. The watch-dog rises and stalks to the window, giving utterance to a short, sharp lark, Nythfa follows him, and uufastens the window bolt, that he may have his usual evening run. Then Owen stepped out of the shadows, Do not be frightened—its only me, confrerehe said quickly. She was startled, and the ool»ur tied from her face, but the next moment she was ^aily asking him how long he had taken to burgla- rously prowling about people's houses. Owen smiled a little absently, and fell into a contemplation of the fire in his old habit II Do you know it is St. David's Eve," exolaimed Nythfa, gathering up her work pre- paratory to flying out of the room in search of her father and to order some coffee for the trailer—ho looked so cold, poor confrere. See what an industrious mood I am in, I have made all theso rosettes for the housbold to wear to-morrow.'J Did you think I should forget St. David's Day ? No i M,y only fear Was kast I should arrive too Urt* to spend it with you. Won't you stay a moment, be added, pleadingly. Sho cam* b*ck to him at once, I h&vo come stright from Pias. I only heard 1 was returned it's member this morn- ing, and I thought perhaps you might like to know." Nythfa held out her hand. ilfv old con fere, I am so pleased. How very good of you to remember us and to come all that wav on such a night as this." "Oh! as to that, I quite make up mv mind to see rain onoe 1 am across the border." She was going to make some eager dis-1 claimer, but he went on gravely, ° This has been the longest year of my life, and I should not be here now, only the idea struck me that on St. David's Eve perhaps I should find my patriotio friend more tender of heart than she had been once before to me." As he spoke he put in her hand a beautiful little trinket- the leek formed of emeralds, with the stalk in pearls, "If you will wear this on our great saint's day, sweetheart, Owen Glanafon will take it as a token that he is never to be lonely and companionless again, but that he will have his little confrere with him till the end of life." Then the woman's heart came to Nythfa Lloyd. The long months of parting, and silence and trust, had fitted her for the joy of this hour. She fastened the gleaming jewel into the lace at her throat with hands that trembled somewhat, and, turning, held out both those little hands to him. H Your little confreie, now and for ever," she repeated softly. And the shadows of Saint David's Eve fell deeper around, veiling the happiness of two loyal hearts. [THE END. J

The Lost Banknote. PART 11. One morning Mabel was eagerly scanning the column in the newspaper, always the first to attract, her attention, needless to say, headed Shipping intelligence," when she called out joyfully, HOb, father! the Mace- donia passed Holyhead at midnight, so Henry will be here to-day." And the happy, smiling girl brought the paper over to old John, with I one finger lovingly laid »n the most impor- tant item contained in tbat day's issue—at any rate in her estimation. any rate in her estimation. Yes, Mab, there it is and no mistake. If all goes well my boy will sleep here to night, but the voice died away into something sus- piciously like a sigh, as he handed the paper back to his companion. She did not seem to notioe the eoolaess of his manner, though the smile faded from her lips. It soon returned, however, for the prospect of meeting with her lover in a few hours was too cheering to I permit of gloomy thoughts. So she flitted to and fro, now in the house preparing 'for Harry's reception, anon in the shop attending to a customer, her eyes beaming all the while with joy, and her sweet voice humming a merry tune, in harmony with the gaiety which reigned in her heart. By tea time «he bad become a little sub- dued, and while sitting at the table and keep- ing a sharp look out through a small window at the shop, she inquired: "Are you going to speak to Harry this evening, father, about that money—that lost note ?" "Yes, my girl," was the reply, "I must get at the truth as soon as I see him, and end the horrid doubt one way or another." "I think that will be the right thing to do," said Mabel, and the meal concluded with-1 out further reference to the subject which was uppermost in their minds. Night had oast her gloomy pall over the city, and Mabel had just oemplctcd 11 lighting 11- up," when a four-wheeler came to a stand- still at the door. Her Meart can a big throb, and the next moment Harry was behind the counter, and had her folded in his s I urdy arms. "Help the cabby to bring in those traps, Bob," he said to the grinning shop lad, and then, turning to his sweetheart, Why, Mab, you're looking prettier than ever, and I've brought home heaps of nice things for you. But where's father ?" Mabel nodded in the direction of the little baok room, and the next instant John Burton and his son stood face to face, with hands) olasped together. ) Welcome home, my boy! And now you're here I hope you'll stop." "That I will, father. I've had all the roaming I. want, though we've had a splendid trip, and everybody aboard is sorry I'm leaving," t. Proud to hear it. But you're hungry, and Queen Mab has been busy getting some Ii nioe things ready for YOG." "Full up, father. I bad a good meal aboard a couple of hours ago, so they'll have to wait till supper time, when we can all sit down! together," and as he conoluded speaking his eyes wandered lovingly towards the spot where Mabel stood in the shop. where Mabel stood in the shop. Well, sit down; I've got something to talk about rather unpleasant, and I'd better I get it over soon." And Harry toelc a ohair opposite bisi father, wondering whatever could have happened during his absence. The old man, with many pauses and much emotion, recalled to his son's recollection the lecking-up of the bank notes in the safe, and then continued— Now, when I went and opened that drawer next morning, only three notes were there. Tbfl fifty pounder bad gone 1 What did you do with it? Speak the truth, Harry, how- evftr hard it may be to do so." The young tailor's face was crimsoned momentarily with indignation, and then be- came clouded as he realised the position and tried to solve the mystery. Father, you can't think me such a skunit as to have stolen that money? What does Mab s&y ? Does she know about it ?" Yes, she knows, and has stuck up for you like a brick all along. But what can I think, Harry ? I gave you four notes to lock up, and find but three there next day." It does look black against, me, no doubt, father, i can't account for it myself. 1.ct me thiuk a biK When J put them in the safe tLe drawer was very full. I remember, I had to press them down in order to close it." Hfl1 stopped speaking, and remained f°r a minute in deep thought, while his father gazed wistfully at him. thought, while his father gazed wistfully at him. "By.love I It might Le so- Come along, father," and the impetuous young feilow half dragged his father into the shop. inoyr) open the safe." I The old mau, whose hands were, trembling wiih excitement, unlocked the iron door, while Mabel stood with anxious, eager, hopeful eyes riveted upon her lover. I "Unlock the bottom left-hand drawer," I 3nid Harry, a little excitedly, and with just a shade of the seoond officer's tone of command. But his father noticed it not, he simply j obeyed his son at this crucial moment as im- plicitly a3 one of ihe ship's apprentices would | have done. pull it right out and lay it on the counter." The order was promptly obeyed. ¡ Now, put your hand into the vacant space, right up to the baok of the safe, and bring out anything you feel there." Bat this was ¡ impracticable, for John Burton's frame was

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THE SECRET OF THE HIDDEN ROOM. By SPENCER JEROMF. The priest found himself in a corridor which he never before had entered. It waa suffused with light that came from behind a translucent ceiling. Opening on it were small rooms, or deep alcoves cut off from the corridor by heavy curtains. He pushed asida one of these. Within were bag, of gold and open gold caskets of rarest jewels, i If scaroely gla.nced at them, but eaying, The burdens of life are enough-I wish not the burdens of wealth," he passed on. In the next alcove were swords and javelins of every description, and a plumed helmet capping them all. They did not detain him, and murmuring, Naught is so empty as glory," he turned to the next. In it, on a purple oloth, were a crown and sceptre. "Baubles for ehildreu," he snuied and turned away. Another room showed an almsgiver. Tb, prie&t frowned, Those who cannot live should die." Then he oame to a student's library, the shelves filled with rare volumes and curious manuscripts, while through a half-opened door the tools of alohemy were visible. My soul is wearied with knowledge," 1;<° exolaimed; "I long for wisdom." The next room showed a divan, upon which a woman reolined in all the splendour of her beauty. A blush came to her checks as abe saw the priest, and she hid her face from him, and strove to cover herself with a silken shawl. He lingered, looking at her, and hia heart beat rapidly. 11 I would tarry here." he said, could 1 bt thy lover and not thy slave. I would tarry here, wouldat thou but release me when the tio that bound our hearts was broken. I would tarry here, wouldst thou recognise that at the most thou oouldst be but an eddy in the current of my life but, to be content with this, thoe wouldst love me too much —or not-enough." And so, with one last regrétJul look, he turned away, and throwing aside another curtain, he felt the oool air of night upon his hot face, and he looked out over the desert lying dim and mysterious in the moon- light. He advanced a few steps to where he saw a taper burning. There was a poroh with » rose bush running over it, and the red blossoms visible here and there. Two well-tried friends of many years eat there, and there was upon a table a flask filled with red wine, through which the light of the taper came rioh in colour as the twilight sify in autumn. There was a third chair and a glass waiting for bim. The friends rose and came towaids him, saying:— We were to d you were coming. Come, we have been waiting long." He went to them gladly and grasped their bands. "My dear olt." b e cried, "here is unalloyed hnppiness."—1^e for April.

OPI'XION OK T«K_ REV. R, D. ROBKBTS, r.i.WYN- I;Ar'rll"r r Sir, — I caugut » vers severe colli wliS V3. for a length of time In a most iwininl coiujit oil. I tbfu obtained a bottle of th« oot, which Roor. restored me to my usual health. From my eiiieru-uce of it, I heartily recommend H t-o tbeooMcfint my fellow countrymen.- Youvs truly, (Ber.l li- Roberts, l ei-tain Cure for Coughs, 0< Ms, Asthma; I}rom;iiitis, Sic. 1 ut Up jn at is. lit! 2s. 3ii., an« OK Fierarerl by Morgan TV. Che>v>«t, Llaiieliy. Hjpf*1 OM ftD: FAMB AT ms TOP AIm KAa THE BIOORD INSIDE THE FIRST HALF.

I built on many lines, and the space previously [ occupied by the drawer would not admit his muscular arm. Come here, Mab, you must help us to solve the mystery. See if you can bring anTe thing out." And the young woman, naturally delighted at assisting in clearing her lover's reputation, easily inserted her arm into the orifice. With an ejaculation of joy she instantly withdrew it, and in her hand was the missing bank note! There, father, I lowv that Harry would clear it all up when he came home 1" The old man's countenance presented a curious series of varying expressions as he looked at the bit of paper which bad oaused him so much mental anguish. An almost grotesque look of surprise was succeeded by a coraioally rueful aspect, when he thought how readily he had suspeoted his own son, and this gave plaoe to an expression of intense happt" ness as he realised that his handsome sailor lad was ianooent, Thank God I I was wrong in my sus- picions," he muttered huskily, as he went into the parlour. The young folks followed, and the father grasped his son's hand fervently as he said in broken aooants, "Forgive roej Harry, for my unjust thoughts; but how did the note ever get there?" "Why," replied his son, "tile drawer was very full when I olosed it, and when you opened it the top note was sorsp-sd along uutil it slipped over at the back, and there it has been ever since." Well, I'm getting an old fool, that's all I Too old for business, so I'll retire aftei to-night. Tell Bob to put the shutters up, though it is on hour earlier than usual. We'll celebrate Harry's return by a little festivity among ourselves, I know Mab has got some- thing good ready for us, a'.d after three months of such misery as I've had. thinking over that blessed note, I can do with a little bit of pleasure." And they had a merry re-union that night, though the oompany was limited to three. Harry told the incidents whioh Jiad cropped up during his voyage. He displayed to their delighted eyes the curiosities of the Easi^ which he had brought to adorn their home^ and if old John Burton's eyes were sometimes J dim with tears, as he sat aud listened to the i merry talk of the young people, they were not tears of sorrow, but of the purest joy. J. FDWARD9.