te of a year past. When the owner of the house entered,
he found his guests in quite a tumult of surprise and puzzle. At first
he was quite as much at a loss as themselves to account for this
discovery. It was, however, remembered by the gentleman to whom the
letter was addressed, that about a year before he had applied to the
writer for aid in some charity, but, having many demands of the same
kind to supply, he declined. Afterwards, as it appeared, he regretted
having done so, and had accordingly inclosed the money. Probably, soon
after, he met the gentleman in whose book it was found, (with whom he
was on intimate terms,) and asked him to give the letter as addressed.
The receiver brought it home, laid it on his table, and forgot it. The
book lying open, it may be that the letter slipped between the leaves
and the volume was returned to the shelf. And there it had waited for
more than a year, holding the invisible letter quite safe, until the
person to whom it was addressed took down, for the first time in his
life, a volume from those shelves, and received into his own hand the
communication intended for him. No one can wonder that the invisible in
libraries has a strong hold on the faith of our friend.

Although few may be so fortunate as to find bank-notes in letters
addressed to themselves between the leaves of books in libraries, yet
we all have felt the sensation of discoverers of hidden treasures. After
carelessly looking at a volume which has stood on the shelves for years,
we open it and find within thoughts which appeal to our deepest
experiences, high incentives to our nobler energies, deep sympathy in
our sorrows, sustaining words to help us on with our life-work. How
differently do we ever after regard the visible of that book! The
invisible has been revealed to us, and we almost wonder whether, if we
had looked into it two or three years before, we should have found there
what now we prize so much. Perhaps not; for after different experiences
in life come different revelations from books. The pages which a few
years ago we might have glanced over with indifference now speak to us
as if uttering the emotions of our own souls.

Sometimes it is a work of fiction which, we open for the first time, the
title of which has been familiar to our eyes. Out of it invisible
spirits walk. We are introduced to charming people who never existed,
and yet who become our daily companions. We go with them through many
tr