exposed to the disturbing elements. But inside warmth and comfort
reign supreme. The oak parlour is all ablaze with light, and the
laughter and merriment filling the whole room betoken the happy, genial
spirits of the occupants. Let us see if we still recognize one and
all--if six years have wrought no ravages or particular change on those
we knew in their happy childhood days.

Close by the fire, lying on a luxuriously-cushioned couch, is a young
lady, whose pale, thin face bears traces of weary pain. Yet the dark
eyes are bright and smiling, and the voice has still its own merry
ring, which plainly betrays the old Winnie of bygone days. Surely Aunt
Judith's words are coming true, and she is learning beautiful lessons
in the school of pain; for the pale face shines with a peaceful calm,
and the words which fall from her lips are the words of one who has
been in the furnace of affliction and come forth tried as silver.

Seated near on a low stool, with legs stretched forth in lazy comfort,
is Dick, newly home from a long, perilous voyage. He is very much
improved and changed, but in the gallant young officer one can still
discover traces of the bluff sailor boy whose kind, honest heart won
for him the love and friendship of all with whom he associated. He has
continued to rise steadily in his profession, and Mr. Blake is proud of
his scapegrace son at last.

A little further away, at the other side of the fire, sits Edith,
smiling and light-hearted as ever, and with the same fair, sweet face;
but a plain golden band, circling one white finger, proclaims that the
gay, laughing girl has found a woman's true place in the world, and
that the grave, gentlemanly captain has won his suit in the end.

And now we have come to the last occupant of the room--a young lady,
seated in very unladylike fashion on the rug, and so little changed
that in the fresh bright countenance we have no difficulty in
recognizing our old friend Nellie Latimer. She is spending a few weeks
in town with Winnie, and if report speaks true, there is a possibility
that in the dim future Winnie may find a sister in her old school-mate
of past years.

"How nice and cosy we all look!" she is saying in her blithe young
voice; "one values light and warmth on a night like this. Hush! do you
hear the wind? I pity those on the sea to-night."

Dick looks grave. "Ah, Nellie," he replies quietly, "pity hearts that
are watching and praying in their lo