before him.

"Please open it, and examine the contents."

She obeyed him; and, after removing the wrapping, found a blue velvet
case that opened with a spring and revealed a parcel enclosed in
silver paper. Dr. Grey turned and walked to the window; and, as Salome
took off the last covering, a watch and chain met her curious gaze.
One side of the former was richly and elaborately chased, and
represented Kronos leaning on his scythe; the other was studded with
diamonds that flashed out the name "Salome." Astonishment and delight
sealed the orphan's lips, and, in silence, far more eloquent than
words, she bowed her head upon the table. After a few moments had
elapsed, Dr. Grey attempted to steal out of the room; but, being
obliged to pass close by her chair, she put out her hand and arrested
his movement.

"It is the most beautiful watch I have ever seen; but, oh, sir! how
shall I sufficiently thank you? How can I express all that is
throbbing here in my proud, grateful heart? Although the costly gift
is elegant and tasteful, I hold still more precious the fact which it
attests,--that during your absence you thought of me. How shall I
begin to prove my gratitude for your kindness and generosity?"

"Do not thank me, my little friend; for, indeed I require no verbal
assurances that my _souvenir_ is kindly received and appreciated. Wear
the watch; and let it continually remind you not only of the sincerity
of my friendship, but of the far more important fact that every idle
or injudiciously employed hour will cry out in accusation against us
in the final assize, when we are called upon to render an account of
the distribution of that invaluable time which God allows us solely
for the accomplishment of His work on earth. It is so exceedingly
difficult for young persons to realize how marvellously rapid is the
flight of time, that you will, I trust, forgive me if I endeavor to
impress upon you the vital importance of making each day fragrant with
the burden of some good deed, the resistance of some sore temptation,
some service rendered to God or to suffering humanity which shall make
your years mellow with the fruitage that will entitle you to a
glorious record in the golden book of Abou Ben Adhem's angel. Let this
little jewelled monitress of the fleeting, mocking nature of time,
this ingenious toy, whose ticking is but the mournful, endless knell
of dead seconds, remind you that,--

"This life of ours, what is it? A