gone?"

COBBLER.--"Don't know; would you like to take a peep in the crystal--
perhaps you've the gift, unbeknown?"

VANCE.--"Not I--bah! Come away, Lionel."

"Did not Sophy even leave any message for me?" asked the boy,
sorrowfully.

"To be sure she did; I forgot-no, not exactly a message, but this--I was
to be sure to give it to you." And out of his miscellaneous receptacle
the Cobbler extracted a little book. Vance looked and laughed,--"The
Butterflies' Ball and the Grasshoppers' Feast."

Lionel did not share the laugh. He plucked the book to himself, and read
on the fly-leaf, in a child's irregular scrawl, blistered, too, with the
unmistakable trace of fallen tears, these words:--

Do not Scorn it. I have nothing else I can think of which is All
Mine. Miss Jane Burton gave it me for being Goode. Grandfather
says you are too high for us, and that I shall not see you More; but
I shall never forget how kind you were, never--never. Sophy.

Said the Cobbler, his awl upright in the hand which rested on his knee,
"What a plague did the 'Stronomers discover Herschel for? You see, sir,"
addressing Vance, "things odd and strange all come along o' Herschel."

"What!--Sir John?"