w this at the
same time that I heard the sweetest words that ever fell into my heart,
in the most joyful, self-forgetful tones of the sweetest voice!

"Oh, father! He moved! He moved!"

Mr. Winston turned to me with congratulations, shaking my hand with
warmth; and then his daughter extended hers,--cordially! Of course my
happiness was brimming!

I afterwards tried repeatedly to put my feet in motion. I could not do
it. I could not think how to begin,--what power to bring to bear upon
them. This annoyed me beyond measure, and I spent yesterday in wearisome
effort to no purpose. My thinking, willing mind was of no use to me; but
instinctive feeling, and a chapter of accidents, have brought me to my
present state of activity. A wish to change an uncomfortable position in
which Ben left me this morning restored me to voluntary action. I tried
to turn away from the sun-glare, using my elbows, as usual, for motors.
To my surprise, I found myself assisting with my feet,--and by force of
will I persisted in the effort, and continued the action. Having got the
clue to the mystery, I have now only to will and execute. My rebellious
members are brought into subjection! I am king of myself! Hurrah!

Good-bye, dearest friend. I shake my foot to you,--an action more
expressive of joyful good-will than my best bow.

I hope my return to health will not cost me dear. I begin to fear losing
the sympathy and affection of those I have learned to love so dearly,
and who have cherished me in their hearts simply because of my
infirmities. When I am a vigorous man, will you care for me? will Kate
centre her life in me? will Miss Ada Winston look at me so often and so
gently?

Well, don't laugh at me for my grasping disposition! Affection is very
grateful to me, and I should be sorry to do without it, after having
lived in a loving atmosphere so long.

I believe Ben is as proud of me as he was of his Shanghai, but he has a
proverb which he quotes whenever he sees me much elated: "When the cup's
fu', carry't even." His own cautious Scotch head could do that, perhaps;
but mine is more giddy, and I am afraid I shall spill some drops from my
full cup of joy by too rash advancing.

Kate is not so wild with delight as I am. She still forbids herself to
exult. Probably she dares not give way to unbounded hope, remembering
the bitterness of her former trial, and dreading its recurrence. She
says it makes her tremble to see my utter abandonmen