three fingers. Poor Dick Bryan lost both feet and one hand, and Michael Reardon one limb to the knee, and one hand; and in the Marine Asylum, where they have found a home, they still relate to wondering, sympathizing mates the horrors of the wreck of the Stella.

ՏՆ. meau the

DR. HOWELL sat with his wife and children in as pleasant a parlor as a contented and quiet heart could desire. It was not embellished with expensive furniture nor costly pictures, but the harmonious adaptation of every article in the room to the needs and tastes of its occupants made it a most attractive place. Books, rare engravings, and flowering plants met the eye on all sides, while a bright coal fire in an open grate gave a cheerfully warm welcome to the doctor when he came in from his evening round of calls.

"We have the prospect of delightfully cold, frosty weather for Christmas," said Diantha Howell, the doctor's laughter, more for the purpose of drawing her father into conversation than because she deemed the remark original or worthy of utterance.

"Who ever heard of delightfully cold weather?" queried Mrs. Howell, with a shrug of her shoulders and a peculiar tone of voice, telling a sensitive ear that the doctor's wife had a mind of her own, and never echoed another's opinions if she could find a shadow of an excuse for differing.

66

Why, mother, it sometimes seems to me as if the

cheerful comfort and warmth of our home were greatly en hanced by frost upon the windows and stinging cold out. ride. Christmas would be stale and flat if it came in August; and then in a hot, sultry day we should lose the pleasure of carrying mittens, and mufflers, and jackets, and shawls to our poor." And Diantha cast an admiring glance at the generous pile of warm things upon her work-table, the larger part of which were the products of her own deft hands.

"You forget, child, that if we had warm weather all the time, your poor people wouldn't nced those presents."

"That's true; but they might need things instead which wouldn't be half so pleasant to make or give. Now, the most agreeable part of Christmas for me will be the distribution of these gifts to-morrow, because I know each one of my poor people's wants so well, and have made and selected these articles especially for them."

"How do you know but Mrs. Jenks will have half a dozen sacques and hoods given her, besides those which you have spent so much precious time upon?" asked Mrs. Howell.

"And Tommy Jenks will swap his mittens and scarf for a jackknife with the first boy that wants to trade," added Miss Louise Goodenow, with a faint echo of her mother's tone and manner.

It may be as well to say here, that, although Diantha was the doctor's eldest child, inheriting many qualities of his heart and brain, her half-sister, Louise Goodenow, was Mrs. Howell's eldest and favorite. Mrs. Howell was a young widow with a handsome face, and a charming little girl, and a pretty fortune of her own, when Dr. Howell was called in to attend the child.

He found little Lou seriously ill with scarlatina, and the young mother pale and interesting in her widow's weeds.

17

arely looks more lovely than when ministering to cessities of pain and suffering, and the anxious for her child which shone in Mrs. Goodenow's bright added the charm of expression to a face that was iful in coloring and features. Dr. Howell had an st's eye and a susceptible nature; and what sooner stirs a generous, manly soul than the sight of a beautiful woman, suffering, grieved, and alone in the world?

What wonder, when there was no longer need for professional calls, that Dr. Howell accepted the grateful mother's invitation to call as a friend?

Then came the winter evenings, and the young doctor had more leisure than was conducive to his professional reputation, and Mrs. Goodenow was fond of poetry, and the doctor read well.

It was so pleasant for Mrs. Goodenow to find a friend in the physician who had probably saved the life of her darling child and such a friend, with a nature tender, generous, and sympathetic enough to understand her grief, that as a matter of course she told him the story of her life; the sweet, beautiful dream of wedded happiness which she enjoyed with her dear, departed Arthur, who lived scarcely a year after their marriage, and was called away before little Lou's eyes had looked upon his noble face.

The story was so brokenly and touchingly told, interpted so frequently with tears, which were soon dried, that the third time its pathetic variations fell upon the doctor's ears, the strongholds of his heart yielded, and the beautiful widow's tears flowed no longer.

Before little Lou had counted the days of her second summer, her mamma had laid aside the "grief that boiled had found white satin and over in billows of crape" tulle, orange flowers, and delicate shades more in harmoь

with her peculiar style of features and comp. sombre hue of her serge and crape; and so weeds and grief were buried beneath the beco trousseau of Mrs. Stephen Howell.

It was not a pleasant awakening from the doc. sweet dream of love, to find that beneath the fair of his wife there was much selfishness, much world bition and pride, little intelligence and less love. Bu awakening was mercifully slow, and his vision was cleared from the cobwebs of fancy until the father's lo for his first-born child came to soothe the husband's disap pointment.

Soon after the birth of his child the doctor's heart had been awakened, enlarged, and purified by the power of divine love; his life was a beautiful illustration of that visdom which is "first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good works."

His practice was also increasing rapidly, and the duties of his profession and the love for his child left in his heart little room for repinings.

Twenty years have passed since Dr. Howell took the beautiful widow and her little Louise to his heart and Lome, and we now raise the curtain and reveal the sanctities of that home only to show by contrast the beauty of that charity which "suffereth long and is kind” — to porthat pure religion which enables its possessor "to keep himself unspotted from the world."

ay

Dr. Howell is fifty years of age; his face much improved by that expression which intelligent culture, charity, earnest work, and victory over self leave, despite his gray hairs and furrowed cheeks. Looking at him, you would see only the noble, generous manhood stamped upon his face, and would forget to notice whether his hair were beard gray, or his features regular. But you your his

could