By and by the clasp of her hand slackened. A star shot down the sky,
and I turned. Her eyelids, too, had drooped, and her breath came and
went as softly and regularly as the Atlantic swell around us. And my
child slept in her arms.

Day was breaking before the first cry awoke her. My father had the
breakfast ready, and Old John sang out to hurry. A fair wind went
with them to the Islands--a light south-wester. As the boat dropped
out of sight, I turned and drew a deep breath of it. It was full of
the taste of flowers, and I knew that spring was already at hand, and
coming up that way.



LETTERS FROM TROY.

ADDRESSED TO RASSELAS, PRINCE OF ABBYSSINIA.


I.--THE FIRST PARISH MEETING.

Troy Town,
5 December, 1894.

My Dear Prince,--I feel sure that you, as a sympathetic student of
western politics and manners, must be impatient to hear about our
first Parish Meeting in Troy; and so I am catching the earliest post
to inform you that from a convivial point of view the whole
proceedings were in the highest degree successful. And if