ris, to a pattern of his own device, having round it a border of
rose-buds and leaves, and a centre-piece with full-flown roses. The
bedstead, chairs, and lounges, were of bamboo, wrought in peculiarly
graceful and fanciful patterns. Over the head of the bed was an
alabaster bracket, on which a beautiful sculptured angel stood,
with drooping wings, holding out a crown of myrtle-leaves. From this
depended, over the bed, light curtains of rose-colored gauze, striped
with silver, supplying that protection from mosquitos which is an
indispensable addition to all sleeping accommodation in that climate.
The graceful bamboo lounges were amply supplied with cushions of
rose-colored damask, while over them, depending from the hands of
sculptured figures, were gauze curtains similar to those of the bed. A
light, fanciful bamboo table stood in the middle of the room, where a
Parian vase, wrought in the shape of a white lily, with its buds, stood,
ever filled with flowers. On this table lay Eva's books and little
trinkets, with an elegantly wrought alabaster writing-stand, which her
father had supplied to her when he saw her trying to improve herself
in writing. There was a fireplace in the room, and on the marble mantle
above stood a beautifully wrought statuette of Jesus receiving little
children, and on either side marble vases, for which it was Tom's pride
and delight to offer bouquets every morning. Two or three exquisite
paintings of children, in various attitudes, embellished the wall. In
short, the eye could turn nowhere without meeting images of childhood,
of beauty, and of peace. Those little eyes never opened, in the morning
light, without falling on something which suggested to the heart
soothing and beautiful thoughts.

The deceitful strength which had buoyed Eva up for a little while was
fast passing away; seldom and more seldom her light footstep was heard
in the verandah, and oftener and oftener she was found reclined on a
little lounge by the open window, her large, deep eyes fixed on the
rising and falling waters of the lake.

It was towards the middle of the afternoon, as she was so
reclining,--her Bible half open, her little transparent fingers lying
listlessly between the leaves,--suddenly she heard her mother's voice,
in sharp tones, in the verandah.

"What now, you baggage!--what new piece of mischief! You've been picking
the flowers, hey?" and Eva heard the sound of a smart slap.

"Law, Missis! they 's f