ent
our reunion forever. But I was not wise enough to see it. I only
thought you would send my son to me. I waited in my lonely home in
Charleston years on years. He came at last, but not too late; my
frivolous soul, grown selfish with vanity and disappointment, bent
itself before God through the prayers of our son. I am forgiven, Perry
Whaley. _I have felt it!_"

The old man did not answer, but strained his eyes upon his son. "See
there!" he slowly spoke, "Perry is dying. Famished all these years for
human love, this excess of joy has snapped the silver cord. Wife,
Mary, we have martyred him."

It was the typhoid fever which had developed from Perry's wasting
vitality. He sank into delirium as they looked at him, and was carried
tenderly to his bed. Marion Voss came to nurse him with his mother.
She, too, after Perry's departure, had grown serious and followed his
example, and was a Methodist. The young zealot sank lower and lower,
despite science or prayers. Both churches prayed for him. Negroes and
whites united their hopes and kind offices. One morning he was of
dying pulse, and the bell in the Episcopal church began to toll. At
the bedside all the little family had instinctively knelt, and Perry's
mother was praying with streaming eyes, committing the worn-out nature
to Heavenly Love, when suddenly Judge Whaley, who had kept his hand on
Perry's pulse, exclaimed:

"It beats! He lives again. The stimulant, Marion!"

Father and son had rescued each other's lives. One day as Perry had
recovered strength, Judge Whaley said:

"My son, are you a minister, qualified to perform marriages?"

"Yes."

"When you are ready and strong, will you marry your mother and me
again?"

"Very soon," said Perry; "but not too soon. Here is Marion waiting for
me, as she has waited, like Rachel for Jacob, these many years. I
shall preach no more, dear father, except as a layman. I see by your
eyes that the demon is no longer in our home, and the remainder of my
life will be spent in returning to you the joy my presence for years
dispelled."

"O Perry, my patient son," exclaimed the father, "they who entertain
angels unawares have nothing to look to with regret--except
unkindness."

A CONVENT LEGEND.

The General Moreau, that pure republican,
Who won at Hohenlinden so much glory,
And by Bonaparte hated, crossed the sea to be free.
And brought to the Delaware his story.
World-renowned as he was,