tter cears; and no poring over ters and flourisropes of an Indian scribe, my eyes filled again.

    St. Joo o read; in attempting to do t in sobs. s of tising   tion, nor did ion me as to its cause; he only said—

    “e  a fees, Jane, till you are more composed.” And ient, leaning on ced and fully understood crisis in a patient’s malady. ifled my sobs, tered somet not being very  morning, I resumed my task, and succeeded in completing it. St. Jo away my books and his, locked his desk, and said—

    “Noh me.”

    “I will call Diana and Mary.”

    “No; I  only one companion t must be you. Put on your t by tcake to.”

    I knoagonistic to my oe submission and determined revolt. I o t of bursting, sometimes o t circumstances ed, nor my present mood inclined me to mutiny, I observed careful obedience to St. Joions; and in ten minutes I reading track of th him.

    t: it came over t s of ainless blue; tream descending t spring rains, poured along plentiful and clear, catcints from t. As  track, rod a soft turf, mossy fine and emerald green, minutely enamelled iny ar-like yelloime, s us quite in; for tos o their very core.

    “Let us rest . Jo stragglers of a battalion of rocks, guarding a sort of pass, beyond tle fartain surf and floed to t guarded tude, and a last refuge for silence.

    I took a seat: St. Joood near me. ream, and returned to traverse t: , let tir : o something.

    “And I s again,” e ream!”

    Strange range love! An austere pat