ormed, childish characters. There were also some drawings, and among
these one of a small house and a well, with a man standing near it,
particularly attracted Hunne's attention, and he took the book in his own
hands, and began turning the leaves.

"Hallo!" he exclaimed with a knowing look, as he took out a piece of paper
that lay folded between the leaves; "Mamma has one like this; it belongs
to Lili; the one I am going to America to find."

Julius laughed aloud. "What in the world are you chattering to Dora about
now, Hunne?" But his mother glanced, quickly at the little boy as she
caught his words, took the paper from his hand and read what was written
there.

Great tears fell from her eyes as she read; the memory of long past hours
of her happy childhood rose before her, clear and distinct, and almost
overpowered her, Her own mother's face, and all the sights and sounds of
childhood! It was the other half of her own poem that she held in her
hand, the half that had been kept by her dearly loved friend. She gave it
silently to her husband; she could not trust her voice to read it aloud.

The children watched her curiously as she took the other half from her
notebook, and laid the two bits of yellow faded paper side by side. They
made a sheet of the usual size of old-fashioned letter paper. The writing
was the same on both, and as the lines were joined, their meaning became
plain. Mr. Birkenfeld read the verses aloud:

"Lay your hand in mine dear,
Joined thus we need not fear,
Each the other clasping fast,
That our union should not last,
But behold, the fates decree
That our future severed be.
We will cut our verse in two,
Half for me and half for you.
But we still will hope forever
That the halves may come together,
And with no loss to deplore.
Our friendship be as 'twas before."

The mother had taken Dora's hand in hers. "Where did you get this paper,
Dora?" she asked, much moved.

"It has always been in my mother's album," replied the child with
surprise.

"Then you are my Lili's child!" cried Mrs. Birkenfeld, "and that is what
your eyes always said to me, when I looked into them;" and she folded Dora
softly to her heart.

The children were intensely excited, but seeing how much moved their
mother was, they restrained themselves, and sat very still, watching Dora
and their mother with eager looks. But little Hunne broke the spell.

"Then I