essibly to kneel by her side and tell her all.

At last the time came. It was Sunday, and little Lilly's birthday.
Mrs. Phillips was so much better that she was brought down stairs, for
the first time for many weeks, and seated on the vine-shaded piazza,
overlooking the river. She looked very happy, and there was a delicate
rose-tint on her cheek. All the family were gathered around her; it
was a jubilee of love. Her husband sat at her side; the boys stood
near, leaning over the railing, watching the graceful sloops sailing
by. Mary sat on a low stool before her, showing some Bible pictures to
Lilly, who wore a birthday wreath of blue violets and white rosebuds.
Suddenly the child was heard to say, "This is my birthday, you know,
Mary, and that's why it's so pleasant. When is your birthday?"

"O, never mind," said Mary, blushing, "look at this picture."

"No, no, not till you tell me when your birthday comes."

"I cannot tell you, dear."

"Why, don't you know? I 'm only five years old, and I know mine."

"Why, how is this, Mary?" asked Mrs. Phillips; "don't you really know
your birthday?"

Mary hesitated a moment, then replied, "There were some sad
circumstances in my childhood that prevented me from knowing much even
about myself. I do not know _exactly_ how old I am, but I think about
fifteen."

"About fifteen!" repeated Mrs. Phillips, in a dreamy way, "and your
name _Mary_. John, our Mary would have been just about her age, could
we have kept her; and do you know I fancy she would have looked very
much like this young girl. I suppose this coincidence of age and name
has given me a peculiar interest in her. I felt strangely drawn
towards her at first sight. I have an odd idea that she looks like our
family, somewhat as I used to look; and, stranger still, like _you_,
John."

At this, all instinctively drew near to the mother. Mr. Phillips took
her hand, and said calmly, "My dear Caroline, nobody on earth has a
better right to look like our Mary, like you and like me, than this
dear young girl."

"O John, John, tell me! Can she he! O blessed God!--"

She could not utter a word more, but she stretched out her trembling
arms, and Mary crept into them and lay on her mother's breast, the long
hunger of her heart satisfied at last!

[Illustration: Mary and her mother]

"Yes, dear, this _is_ our lost child, given back to us by a gracious
God," said Mr. Phillips. But there was no need to tell h