wed up in eternity."

There was service in the morning in the pretty little country church.
Strange that this beautiful and appropriate mode of commencing the
New-Year, which is so general in continental Europe, should be
frequently neglected here! It appears so very natural, upon entering
upon a new division of time, to consecrate its commencement by
acknowledgments of our dependence upon the Great Creator. At least, so
thought the family party assembled at The Grange; and they were amply
rewarded for the effort it cost them by the joyful, hopeful nature of
the services, which were intended to lead the soul to repose upon God
with unshaken trust for all future time.

In the evening, it was agreed that there should be no story, but that
games and conversation should fill up the time. Mary proposed a new game
she had heard of, "_Characters, or Who am I?_" While one left the room,
the rest agreed upon some historical personage who was to be represented
by the absentee upon his return. When he re-entered, unconscious whether
he was a Nero or a Howard, they addressed him in a manner suitable to
his rank and character, and he replied in such a way as to elicit
further information in regard to the important question, "Who am I?" As
he grew more sure of his own identity with the illustrious person whose
deeds they alluded to, his answers would become more unequivocal, until
at last he could announce that he had solved that difficult problem,
"know thyself." An amusing state of puzzle--a dreamy feeling that you
might be anybody in the world, was found to pervade the first replies.
Cornelia, who led the way in assuming a character, declared that she
felt like the little woman in Mother Goose's Melodies,

"If I be's I, as I suppose I be,
I have a little dog at home, and he knows me!"

and that when she found out who she really was, it was as grateful to
her as was the little dog's joyous bark to the unfortunate woman,
doubtful of her own identity.

When Cornelia entered, Mary said to her: "Does your majesty feel very
sore from your fall?"

"Very little bruised, indeed."

"Physically, I presume that you feel nothing; but you must suffer
mentally," remarked Ellen. "For a queen to be so disgraced, and for a
moment's pride to be brought down to the rank of a subject, and of a
divorced wife, is indeed a dreadful fate."

"A lofty mind," replied Cornelia, "can bear reverses."

"True," rejoined Charlie. "I rejoic