It need hardly be said that a visit of this kind to such an obscure place at such a moment, the grave and dignified bearing of the visitor, his silence, and his singular parting words, made a deep impression upon this rustic company, and especially upon the wife, to whom he addressed those few emphatic parting words.

When Mr. Thompson had left the cottage, the friends there gradually commenced talking again, but rather in a subdued tone. Their minds, however, were diverted from the subject of their dispute to Mr. Thompson. First one and then another left his seat in the house and came to the door to look after the stranger, and then each made some remark as to who he was, and what he meant by the "treasure." "I've never seen that gentleman afore that I know of; he's a stranger about 'ere," said Mrs. Harvey.

"He's a gentleman, whoever he be,” said one.

"That's soon seen on the face of him," remarked another. "Only I'd a-liked him to 'ave said a little more."

"I fears he hasn't spoke the truth," said a third, "whether he be a parson or not, about the treasure.”

"He has rather the cut o' one," said another, "about the face, but he's too fleshy for a parson; for, if you'll notice, none of 'em looks troubled with too much flesh."

"That's the nature of 'em,” said one; "the parson in our place is like it. They say it's the books that does it, and always on the thinking; it turns many a man's brain, that study does. I've been near it m'self, when I had that job of building that row of cottages. Head work is the toughest thing out if a man holds on to it."

Well," observed another, "I can't bottom what he meant about 'treasure in the house.""

"Nothing more, I expect, than Mrs. Harvey's baby in the cradle there."

"He didn't mean that," said Mrs. Harvey, "for he didn't see the little darling, for it's upstairs; and I'm sure he never heard it, for it's as fast asleep as a top, and has been these two hours."

"He saw something," said one; "and these parsons can always say something, a little moral like, about what they see, when the like of us should be as dumb as our chop ping-block. He meant something, as I said afore-yo11 could see that in his face, for he was as grave as a man on the gallas."

"Oh,” said one of the party, "he meant it as a compliment to us all. I suppose he thought we were making rather merry, and thought we had more cash among us than we have, perhaps."

"It was not cash at all, in my humble 'pinion. I never seed his like afore this way of the country; and if he meant money, why, then, in my humble 'pinion, it's money we nor Mrs. Harvey knows nothing about."

"The worst luck I wish you, mistress," said one, addressing Mrs. Harvey, "is, that he may soon come this way again, and afore long just put his finger on the spot where it lies. A gentleman of his stamp I'll ne'er believe would say what he did, and mean nothing."

66

'Well," said one, "he came in as calm as any angel, and more like one than any man I've seen yet, and he went out again like a angel more than anything else. Men like that mean what they say, depend on't."

This kind of conversation went on for some time, and their curiosity to know what the stranger meant now and again cropped up until the party separated. Mrs. Harvey said but little, but was inclined to believe that the words of Mr. Thompson had reference to some kind of treasure which lay hid in some part of the house. And this was no unusual belief among the peasantry of that day and in that part of the country; and this visit rather confirmed Mrs. Harvey in her belief that at different times, in the night, she had had a token of something about to happen.

Soon after the party "had broken up," the family of the cottage retired to rest; but so fast stuck the stranger's words in the wife's mind that she dreamed of the treasure, and of her successful search for it; but, when morning

came, she had forgotten part of the dream. She could not remember what the treasure was, but she recollected that the large and singular stone in the centre of the floor was associated with its discovery. So restless did she become, especially after the dream about this "treasure," that nothing less than a diligent search would satisfy her. Her husband, by this time, shared her feelings, so he remained at home from his work soon after, in order to have a "search for hid treasure."

Since Mrs. Harvey remembered that the curious stone mentioned above was connected with finding the treasure, it was decided first of all to remove it. This task was begun, but not easily accomplished, so well was the stone fitted and fastened in its place. But the very difficulty of removing it only increased their hopes of finding the treasure underneath. At last the old stone was turned over, but revealed no treasure. Then the earth for some distance down was removed, but still no treasure! The soil was thereupon shovelled into its place again, and the old stone once more fell into its resting-place, and once more was secured there with cement.

T

Strayed.

HE father came in from the harvest field, and his toil 'neath the burning sun,

The mother, borne down by her household cares, felt glad that the day's work was done;

The evening meal was before them spread, and the sun was sinking low, As the children and servants came round the board-all there save little Joe.

"Now where is my Joey," the father said,

in to tea?

"that he comes not

Has any one seen him playing around? or know ye where he can be?" They looked at each other, but no one knew where the pet of the household stayed,

For he had not been seen for many long hours in the haunts where

he frequently played.

The mother turned pale as the men uprose to seek for her darling child,

For she knew that the forest, not very far off, was still but a virgin wild;

There were ravenous beasts in its undergrowth, and dens, and pitfalls deep,

And serpents and insects crawled about where her child might pos sibly sleep.

There was need for haste in that little band, for the day was closing fast,

And they knew that darkness would settle down ere the edge of the forest was past;

So they carried their torches to lighten their feet, and frighten the beasts of prey,

In case that their search should be much prolonged; for they knew not where Joey might stray.

They searched and searched till dawn of day, in that virgin forest wild, For the sorrowful father's tender heart could not give up his child; The men returned to their needed rest, and the gentle mother's care, But the elder brother's loving heart his father's search must share.

The day wore on, when a trace was found in the prints of his little feet, In a bed of mud where a stream had been dried up by the summer heat. With eager haste they followed the track amid the bright wild flowers Which he had stopped to gather in glee, then thrown away in showers.

At length at the foot of a sheltering tree, lying sweetly asleep on the ground,

With traces of tears on his much-besmeared cheeks, their wandering darling they found;

His little hands bleeding and scratched by the thorns, one little foot naked and bare,

His clothes sadly torn, his limbs all begrimed, and dust, leaves, and twigs in his hair.

When the sun went down on that summer night, there was joy in that house untold,

For the wandering lamb, by God's grace and love, had been carried home to the fold;

The father thought not of his weariness, nor the brother of toil

and care,

Nor the mother her soul's deep agony, when she waited on God in

prayer.

The household love and the household care, were lavished on Joey's

frame,

And it seemed that such music had never been heard, as was found

in the wanderer's name:

They could never forget all the sorrowful time, when the angel of death seemed so near;

And so from his wandering far from his home, little Joey was even more dear.

Is this not a picture of many of us, who stray from our Father's

care,

To wander alone in pathless wilds, and their unknown dangers dare?

Allured by the flowers, we wander on, and see not the pitfalls near, Our eyes are filled with their brilliant hues, and our ears too dull to hear.

So we miss our loving Father's voice, as He calls us homeward long, And our Elder Brother's heart of love, and flow of pity strong: We drink of the impure streams around, and toil through the mire and clay,

And snatch at bright flowers which so fade in our grasp we are glad to throw them away.

So, stung by the insects and torn by the thorns, and turning our backs on the light,

We wander still farther away from our home, and grope in the darkness of night;

Yet still our dear Father and Brother call on, and hold forth the bright light to guide,

For they cannot but long for each wandering one, to be nestling close to their side.

When flashes of light from their Lantern of Truth reveal them to any lost soul,

He sees himself ragged, disabled, and poor, and dirty from headcrown to sole.

Then the Brother's great love makes Him rescue from death, the erring and penitent child,

And bear him in safety from pitfalls and snares, lying hid in the wilderness wild.

He heals and He cleanses the sin-defiled soul, and strips it of rags and of self,

And clothes it with robes of His righteousness pure, which cannot be bought with earth's pelf;