familiar corner, and gave Allida warning, within half an hour. She
looked about a little while and luxuriated in her freedom,--no one to
supervise her conversation, her movements, her opinions, her food. Never
mind the empty rooms, or the echoes there! She read an angry psalm or
two, looked over some texts denouncing pharisees and hypocrites, thought
indignantly of the ingratitude there was in the world, felt that any
way, and on the whole, she was where she was before Sophia came, and
went out to spend the evening, and came in at the nine-o'clock
bell-ringing with such a sense of freedom, that she sat up till midnight
to enjoy it.

And Sophia spent the day putting her multitudinous belongings into
place, hanging up her bird-cage, arranging her books and her
bureau-drawers, setting up a stocking, and making the acquaintance of
the old ladies next her. She taught one of them to play double solitaire
that very evening. And then she talked a little while concerning Dr.
Maybury, about whom Julia had never seemed willing to hear a word; and
then she read, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and
I will give you rest," and went to bed perfectly happy.

Julia came to see her the next day, and Sophia received her with open
arms. Every one knew that Julia had begged her to stay and live with her
always, and share what she had. Julia goes now to see her every day of
her life, rain or snow, storm or shine; and the whole village says that
the friendship between those two old women is something ideal.

THE MYSTERY OF GILGAL

BY JOHN HAY

The darkest, strangest mystery
I ever read, or heern, or see
Is 'long of a drink at Taggart's Hall--
Tom Taggart's of Gilgal.

I've heern the tale a thousand ways,
But never could git through the maze
That hangs around that queer day's doin's;
But I'll tell the yarn to youans.

Tom Taggart stood behind his bar,
The time was fall, the skies was fa'r,
The neighbors round the counter drawed,
And ca'mly drinked and jawed.

At last come Colonel Blood of Pike,
And old Jedge Phinn, permiscus-like,
And each, as he meandered in,
Remarked, "A whisky-skin."

Tom mixed the beverage full and fa'r,
And slammed it, smoking, on the bar.
Some says three fingers, some says two,--
I'll leave the choice to you.

Phinn to the drink put forth his hand;
Blood drawed his knife, with accent bland,
"I ax yer parding, Mister P