to think that every person has the making of two individuals
in him--one bad, the other good. What a pity that a man usually has only
one chance! If he makes a mistake he is lost. My dear Ruth, in the whole
course of my life I have kept my eyes upon the infallible law of cause
and effect; and I know this, that wrong-doing inevitably brings its own
retribution."

When Ruth took her eyes from this letter and fixed them upon the distant
blue water-depths they were brimful of tears. "Yes, wrong-doing is
followed by retribution," she thought, "but where is the reward for
right-doing?"

Oh, she felt so lonely in that far-off heathen land, with the shadow of
others' wrong-doing lying always across her path! Why must she suffer
and be alone?

A step from behind startled her, and she sprang up and turned round. A
pair of black eyes were smiling at her from a handsome, familiar face.
"Oh, Mr. Bruce!" she cried, and flew up the steps, holding out both her
hands.

"I have come such a long way to see you," said Bruce, "that my motive
must be pretty conspicuous: I don't mean to try to conceal it. Perhaps
you have never thought of me as a man you would be at all likely to
marry. Still, I have made it my business to come and ask you, and I
thought I might better let you know my errand at once, instead of
leaving you to guess it from any clownish efforts of mine to do the
agreeable to you."

He certainly broke it to her very well, smiling and holding her
hands--so well that she laughed heartily and was at home with him in a
moment.

One day it was rumored in Westbrook that Bruce had come home with a
wife. The news had but just reached Aunt Ruby's premises when Bruce
himself came rapidly up the path and asked for Mrs. Tascher. She came
down at once. "I have come for you to go and call upon my wife," said
he.

"Why, Mr. Bruce--" she began.

But he stopped her, and in spite of her demurring carried her off.

"You certainly _have_ a lovely place, Mr. Bruce," she said, looking
admiringly round as they mounted the front steps of his residence. The
door flew open, and there, waiting to welcome her, stood the
bride--Ruth.

ALICE ILGENFRITZ.

WHERE LIGHTNING STRIKES.

The air has been growing hotter for many days, with "occasional
counteracting influences" (as "Probabilities" says), until the
sunshine-loving doves hide under shadowing gables and the robins and
sparrows sit on the lower branches of the trees with litt