vised and memorized melodies, and were struck with awe
and wonder.

After the concert we went to the Commercial Hotel, where I was suddenly
and violently attacked with a congestive chill, in which emergency Mrs.
Newett, the landlady, proved a ministering angel, her thorough knowledge
of the disease and prompt devoted attendance no doubt saving my life.

We next visited L'Anse, the terminus of the Marquette Railroad, and found
a delightful hotel, bearing the euphonious name of Lake Linden House,
suggestive of the beautiful grounds gracefully sloping to the edge of the
lake, whose "wide waste of waters" seemed a "sapphire sea" set with
emerald gems, from one of which verdant spots gleaming in the picturesque
distance rose the symmetrical spire of a cathedral, whose cross stood out
like a beautiful "bas relief" from the violet background; and the solemn
voice of the convent bell told the hour when orisons arose like holy
incense to the skies. A fitting resort for the student, and the recluse
was this secluded spot, where nature opened her fairest page, and beauty
planted her altars on earth, in air and sky, and where "devotion wafts the
mind above."

We crossed in the steamer to Houghton, beautifully located upon a winding
stream, and we were pleasantly entertained at the Butterfield House.

We remained some time, lingering among the towns in its vicinity, and
returned home improved in health and finances.

Before settling down for the winter I resolved to visit a few towns in the
vicinity of Chicago, and among them Sycamore, where there was an
unexpected episode in my hitherto eventful career, a touching incident
and "words fitly spoken," which the good book says are as "apples of gold
in pictures of silver."

My husband having once been engaged in business at Sycamore, I was in
constant expectation of meeting some of his old associates; hence, was not
so much surprised when, upon entering a store, a gentleman stepped down
from his desk, and warmly grasping both of my hands, exclaimed: "I know
you." I quickly and inquiringly responded, you are perhaps a friend of my
husband? Oh no, he replied, I do not know your husband, but I have great
reason to remember you, for you were the cause of my salvation!

Moved and wondering, I tried in vain to recall the time when I could have
been an humble agent in the hands of the Heavenly Father, even to the
salvation of a human soul.

Shakspeare has said that--

"Ofttimes