hen the wicked elf would "fold his tent
like the Arabs and silently steal away" to parts unknown, with a
fiendish grin on his ugly little face leaving his dejected victim to
receive a well-merited rebuke for carelessness. This dwarf followed us
for many days, but heeding the repeated warnings of our guide, most of
us at length learned to distrust him and turn a deaf ear to his
excuses. Thus we struggled on and on up the steep sides of the
mountain, and at the close of each day, we realized that, "Something
attempted, something done, had gained a night's repose," for us,
although we didn't always get it.

And now we were nearing the end of our journey, our hopes ran high and
we kept our eyes upward toward the summit. The obstacles which had
continually beset our path had been overcome, and we could say like
the Irishman, who, on capturing three prisoners in the late war, was
asked how he secured them: "Indade, sir," replied he with a knowing
wink, "it's meself that surrounded them, sir."

At last we reach our destination in time to just view the sunrise. The
grass is green, the flowers are all in bloom, Spring is here. The
faint gray streaks of the dawn are in the sky and soon the whole East
is suffused with a roseate flush. There is a hush of expectancy in the
air, the breeze is soft, the birds are twittering drowsily in the
tree-tops, and then in a flood of golden splendor "the morning sun
comes peeping over the hills." Instantly all nature is alive, the
birds pour forth their sweet melodies, the drowsy hum of the bees
floats lazily on the air; there is a pleasant rustling among the tall
swaying pines. Dew-drops glisten on the grass, the flowers nod gayly
in the morning breeze, and we feel like singing:

"When the sun all gloriously comes forth from the ocean,
Making earth beautiful, chasing shadows away,
Thus do we offer Thee our prayers and devotions,
God of the fatherless, guide us, guard us, to-day."

The new day has begun, and we have witnessed one of the finest views
in Nature's kaleidoscope; for what could be more beautiful than the
dawn! So are our lives just at this time. The air is full of hope and
promise; so are we. We are just in the Springtime of our lives; our
hopes, our aims, our aspirations are all as fresh and unsullied as
the morn itself.

Now, in the dewy freshness of the early morning, we see that we are on
a broad table-land, and not on the summit of the mountain as w