gently chafed his forehead, and addressed to him words of affection and filial endearment.

"Shall I bathe your head, father?" she would ask. "Yes, dear child," would be the reply.

And so it was, all day long, and all night long, except when he slept, or she absented herself for a brief repose.

After lingering for a few days, he slept the sleep of death, closing his eyes in holy calmness, and bidding us an affectionate farewell.

"O, Lelia!" said he; "sweet and angelic has been your care for me, and on the wings of your beautiful and heavenly love shall my soul be lifted to God!"

At our request, the families of Mr. Dinneford and Mr. Brown united with us in the last sad offices of respect and love. We followed him to his grave, and stood over it and wept; and when we retraced our steps there were tears in our eyes, but smiles in our hearts.

We remained in New York a few days longer, keeping perfectly quiet, that Helen might recruit her wasted energies; and then, with chastened feelings and a larger faith, we started for home.

Mrs. Stewart received us with the most endearing affection; and, after embracing us both, she said,

"I hope, my dear children, that you have now decided to make this your home."

"Yes, dear mother," I answered, "we have. We

shall gladly live with you, and beautiful shall be your life with us."

I uttered these words with the greatest difficulty, and Helen trembled like a leaf, and she leaned heavily upon me for support, and the tears fell rapidly which she struggled in vain to suppress. She would have sprang into her mother's arms, but I gently restrained her.

"Thank you, my dear boy; and is Helen willing to live here with me? She is weeping;- is it for joy or grief?"

"For joy!-only for joy; for our Lelia is very glad to have such a sweet, sweet home as this."

"Lelia! Lelia! O, gracious Father!

made a mistake, Henri, for Lelia is in heaven."

But you

I could restrain her no longer. She sprang from my arms, and folded her mother to her heart, exclaiming,

"Mother! my own mother! Your child! Your own child! - Your own lost Lelia!"

Mrs. Stewart clasped her arms around her child, and held her tightly for a moment, and then her hands dropped, her face grew white as death, and she would have fallen, if I had not caught her in my arms; for Helen was too much weakened by the feelings and emotions which shook her frame like a reed.

In a brief period, by the application of proper remedies, she was restored to consciousness. Helen was bending over her when she opened her eyes. As weak as she

was, she flung her arms around her neck, and kissed her

passionately, exclaiming,

"You are my Lelia! I know you are! But, how can it be? But those eyes! hair! expression! God be praised! O, my child! what a world of happiness you bring to this long desolate heart! Henri, my son, come and tell me all,— tell me how you learned that Helen Means was my own dear child!"'

I gladly complied with her request; and when I had finished the strange narrative, she said, "It must be so! The lost is found! The dead is alive again! God bless you, my dear children! What moments, hours, days and years of suffering, have I endured! But this hour repays it all. With my own dear ones shall I pass triumphantly and hopefully to my grave! "

"You may expect to see many happy years ere that sad hour shall come," I remarked.

"Blessed years, with your children to comfort you, my mother," said Helen.

"Ah! yes, most blessed. I have ever loved you both, but I knew not how near and dear you would one day become. But this is too much joy for me. I would share it with all the world, and then my heart would be full. Send for all of our friends, and let us rejoice together."

In accordance with her suggestion, we sent invitations to all of our relatives and friends. They came,

our brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, friends and neighbors. After we had partaken of a sumptuous dinner, I gave them the strange narrative. When I had concluded, surprise and wonder were depicted upon every countenance. Expressions like these were heard: "Wonderful!" "A miracle!" "Stranger than fiction!" "If the proof were not so positive, I could not believe it!" Then followed showers of congratulations, and a spirit of subdued joy beamed from every face. We were all happy, and the faint light in the east showed that another day was about to dawn upon the world ere our guests had retired or departed for their homes.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE WEBBER FAMILY.

A DECIDED sensation was produced in our little country town when it became known that my beautiful and accomplished bride was the daughter of Mrs. Stewart, and that she was the little pale-faced, ragged child, who once lived with Deacon Webber. These two facts would have furnished abundant material for conversation; but, adding to them the other facts, it seemed so much like a highly-wrought romance, that the story was in everybody's mouth. The day after our happy gathering of friends, Mr. Edgarton went to visit the Webbers. When he returned, he came in to inform us of the result. It was just after dinner. His face was very red, and there was a roguish twinkle in his little round eyes.

"I have been to see them," said Mr. Edgarton. "Been to see who?" I inquired.

"The pious ones, to be sure," he replied, laughing. Uncle Eaton joined in the laugh, and said, "You old rogue you!-I know where you have been." "Ha, ha, ha! O, what a face he did make up!"