soliciting notice, and he accepted his fare and quarters with little
or no complaint.

"Crutch," he said one day to the little boy, "did you ever see your
father?"

"No, I never saw him, Mr. Reybold, but I've had letters from him."

"Don't he ever come to see you when you are sick?"

"No. He wanted to come once when my back was very sick, and I laid in
bed weeks and weeks, sir, dreaming, oh! such beautiful things. I
thought mamma and sister and I were all with papa in that old home we
are going to some day. He carried me up and down in his arms, and I
felt such rest that I never knew any thing like it, when I woke up,
and my back began to ache again. I wouldn't let mamma send for him,
though, because she said he was working for us all to make our
fortunes, and get doctors for me, and clothes and school for dear
Joyce. So I sent him my love, and told papa to work, and he and I
would bring the family out all right."

"What did your papa seem like in that dream, my little boy?

"Oh! sir, his forehead was bright as the sun. Sometimes I see him now
when I am tired at night after running all day through Congress."

Reybold's eyes were full of tears as he listened to the boy, and,
turning aside, he saw Joyce Basil weeping also.

"My dear girl," he said to her, looking up significantly, "I fear he