veritable Mr. Spriggins was sent home rejoicing from the fact that
he had become insured in the Safety Fund.

Phillip Lawson was re-established at his desk, and not wishing to
allow his thoughts to wander to the subject which had hitherto
occupied them, took up a novel that lay upon the opposite shelf. It
was one of George Eliot's masterpieces--Daniel Deronda. Its depth of
thought and richness in the sublime and beautiful theories as
regards the Jewish dispensation had a charm for the talented
scholar, and he read for more than an hour, deeply buried in the
inspired words of the gifted author--one who will occupy a deep
niche in the inmost recesses of all hearts, so long as the
literature bearing her impress shall make its way in all tongues and
through every clime! Presently a light, well-known step greets the
reader's ears, and a trim little maiden, with waterproof, heavy
boots, and umbrella in the foreground, presents herself upon terms
of much familiarity.

"And my dear old Phillip, how happy you look in here! Why, its
fearfully disagreeable out to-day, and you look as contented as if
the room was heated only by the sunshine, while I am really
shivering with the dampness and fog."

"Well, little woman, what brought you out to-day?" exclaimed the
indulgent brother, stroking the fair hair of his pet sister as she
stood beside him, looking into his face with a look of pure
devotion--a look which showed that her brother was her world, and in
his face shone all that was good and true in her eyes.

Lottie Lawson was a child of a sweet and tender nature. She had been