m of uncle Paul's
chair, and to lay her head on his shoulder.

"To do good was her aim, Carry; may it be yours," said uncle Paul, and
the spell was broken.

A Sabbath In Lausanne.

After a long journey we arrived at the head of the lake of Geneva, by
far the most interesting portion of this sheet of water. The mountains
on the left of the valley are extremely wild and majestic, and at
their feet, close on the borders of the lake, is the little village
where I had promised to spend the Sabbath with my old friend Wagner.
The sun had gone down, but a rosy flush tinged the clouds and lingered
about the tops of the mountains.

The walk was not long to the parsonage, a low rambling cottage, with
deep windows and overhanging roof, embowered in trees and fragrant
with the breath of flowers. All this we took in at a look, and without
any break in the talk, taking us back as it did to the day when we
bade good-by to the college and its professors, and shook hands with
each other for the last time. Looking into Wagner's face it did not
seem so long ago; while I, floating round the world, had gathered
experience enough to make me feel, if not look, something older. At
the porch we were met by Maude, her slight girlish figure rounded into
the perfection of womanhood, the rich bloom of her cheek not quite as
deep perhaps; but the sweet blue eyes met mine with all the old
frankness, the charming naivete that had rendered her so much a
favorite when a child.

Sitting there in the lessening light it all came back; the old
university at Basle, and above all, the old professor, Maude's father,
whom we all loved.

"His place is well filled, and still we miss him," said Wagner.

There were tears in the young wife's eyes, and rising hastily she
disappeared into the house. A few moments later she appeared, her face
smiling and glad, a very sweet-faced babe clasped in her arms, another
tugging at her gown. "Allow me to show my treasures," she said, as she
seated herself beside me. Hours passed as hours will when friends have
been separated for years. Then came a summons to tea; and after that
Maude put up her jewels, and the pastor introduced me to his study.
Summer though it was, a bright fire of sticks was burning on the
hearth; bright, but not too bright to exclude the outside view. Slowly
the purple curtain drooped over the mountains, falling lower and
lower, until the small village, the tiled roofs, and the wooden spire