s in progression in the sky, for the attendants of
the god of day were resplendent in attire. They had been marshalled from
all quarters of the heavens, and their stately and solemn procession,
brilliant with the most gorgeous red, royal purple, and dazzling gold,
had caused my heart to dilate with awe and reverential admiration.

The lake, stirred by the wonderful pageant, caught the many hues as they
dropped from heaven, and tossed them on high in joyous, iridescent
waves.

The climax of majesty and beauty was reached, and then the convocation
broke up--not suddenly, but slowly, and with gracious dignity. The sun
sank into the waiting arms of the unknown; the lights of heaven faded,
and the clouds slowly melted into dusk.

The scene had stirred me as I am seldom stirred, and with the oncoming
of night new thoughts and feelings rose from their lair, as strange and
beautiful wild animals step from their caves into the deep mystery of
darkness.

My neighbor next door--Mrs. Thrush, sat on her broad, vine-clad gallery,
rocking her little child in her arms. By her side sat her husband, with
one arm thrown across her lap. He had laid his paper down, for the
daylight was fading, and perhaps his thought was too happy to stoop to
daily news. Softly the little wife and mother sang; she had a sweet home
voice, and no music of orchestra ever moved me as did her lullaby.

I was at that moment an intensely lonely woman. I thought of Mr.
Gregory and my future, and still I was lonely.

Far away to the east there was a low, long bank of clouds like a
mountain range, and as the poetry and melody of the lullaby rose from
the little nest on my left, and stole into my thought, I saw a faint
light above this line; then a group of mist-like clouds that moved
toward me. Slowly the gray haze, tinged with soft light, began to
resolve itself into shadowy forms, and my heart stood still as, in some
vague way, I traced a connection between the lullaby and the vision, and
realized that a message was coming to me.

I was perfectly calm, but with the calmness which is the outgrowth of an
excitement so tense that it is still. As the vision floated nearer, I
heard soft music--a crooning, yearning, soul-satisfying lullaby; I saw a
little child, a mother, and a father. The child was as beautiful as an
angel, and there was that in its face which made my eyes flood with
tears, and my heart ache with yearning; the faces of the parents were
too vague