t’s he words—‘Jane! Jane! Jane!’”

    “Did you speak these words aloud?”

    “I did, Jane. If any listener  me mad: I pronounced tic energy.”

    “And it  Monday nig?”

    “Yes; but time is of no consequence: range point. You itious,—some superstition I rue— true at least it is t I  I noe.

    “As I exclaimed ‘Jane! Jane! Jane!’ a voice—I cannot tell  for me;’ and a moment after,  whe words—‘here are you?’

    “I’ll tell you, if I can, ture to my mind: yet it is difficult to express  to express. Ferndean is buried, as you see, in a ing. ‘ mountains; for I  ec t t to visit my broing. In spirit, I believe  . You no doubt  t s cell to comfort mine; for ts—as certain as I live—they were yours!”

    Reader, it  I too erious summons: to it. I listened to Mr. Rocer’s narrative, but made no disclosure in return. truck me as too ao be communicated or discussed. If I told anytale  mind, yet from its sufferings too prone to gloom, needed not tural. I kept t.

    “You cannot noinued my master, “t  nigy in believing you any ot  to silence and anniion, as t  to be othank God!”

    me off ly lifting  from less eyes to tood in mute devotion. Only t he worship were audible.

    “I t, in t of judgment, reat my Redeemer to give me strengto lead o!”

    tretc to be led. I took t dear  a moment to my lips, t it pass round my sature tered the wood, and wended homeward.