nts were given without the hope of reward. Sitting by
the parlor fire at night, the pastor told of the parishioners he had
seen, their wants and needs; while Rosalind knit stockings, and
fashioned garments.

"'It would seem that one so well fitted for society would tire of this
narrow bound,' I once said. With an eye brimming over with tenderness,
the pastor replied: 'There are souls to save here quite as precious as
anywhere else.' I felt humbled before his quiet glance. This was the
work for him to do; this was the work he loved. What matter in what
part of the vineyard? wherever there was a soul. But this mountain
grandeur pleased him. These quiet solitudes led him upward. The
glorious diadem of the hills was always urging him onward. Hard and
self-denying as his life, he had ample recompense in daily, hourly
communion with the Father through the majesty of his works."

"I should like to live where I could see all this," whispered Carry.

"The heart that loves, finds beauty and grandeur everywhere,"
responded uncle Paul; "not only the mountain passes, but the valleys
echo His praise, and there are few places so sterile but human lives
abound."

"Griselda and Thorwald, have you seen them since?" asked Carry.

"Ten years afterwards, I saw them. Griselda was a tall stately girl,
with blue laughing eyes, and curls of pale brown, and Thorwald was a
student at Geneva. Pastor Ortler was still the same, preaching to his
little flock, and giving freely of his means, his wife only slightly
older. Once more we wandered over the heights and in the valleys, the
spots where I lingered years before, plucking a flower and drinking
from the cold glacier water. Afterward, when it became necessary for
me to return, good pastor Ortler and his wife went with me, and
together we passed a winter in Milan."

"And Griselda?" asked Carry.

"Oh, uncle Paul, Griselda was"--and Carry glanced up at the portrait
of a young and beautiful woman hanging in a niche on the left-hand of
the fireplace. Uncle Paul's portrait occupied the other side. Silence
brooded over them; while to Carry it seemed the lady in the picture
looked as if with recognition in her eyes. How delicate, how aerial
she seemed! yet real, and true. Was it any wonder uncle Paul was so
good, having had the companionship of such a spirit so many years? And
as she looked, the stately frame seemed to open, and the lady to come
down from her place and seat herself on the other ar