ng!" came from out the painted chamber,
and from beneath the sky-blue canopy a graceful query of the night.
"What of the night, sleeper?--what of the night?" Then I was quickly out
upon the floor, and dressed, and in the cosey little room where the
fruits and flowers were hanging on the wall, and where the bright face
of Sophy, and aromatic coffee, and a charming little breakfast, were
awaiting us with a kindly welcome.

Breakfast over, I left the Doctor to expend his skill and knowledge on a
patient who had sent to claim his services, and strolled out over the
rocks behind the town,--wondering all the while at the strangeness of
the human fancy and its power on the will; and I reflected, too, and
remembered that, in the explanation of the satisfying character of the
life which my new-found friend was leading, there had been no clew given
to the first great motive which had destined such a finely organized and
altogether splendid man to such a career. Was he exempt from the lot of
other mortals, or must he too own, like all the rest of us, when we own
the truth, that every firm step we ever made in those days of our early
lives when steps were critical, was made to please a woman, to win her
slightest praise, to heal a wound or drown a sorrow of her making? I
would have given much to have the question answered, for then a thing
now mysterious would have become as plain as day; but there was no one
there to heed the question, or to give the answer, and I could only
wander on over the rough rocks, wondering more and more.

A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

One morning last April, as I was passing through Boston Common, which
lies pleasantly between my residence and my office, I met a gentleman
lounging along The Mall. I am generally preoccupied when walking, and
often thrid my way through crowded streets without distinctly observing
a single soul. But this man's face forced itself upon me, and a very
singular face it was. His eyes were faded, and his hair, which he wore
long, was flecked with gray. His hair and eyes, if I may say so, were
seventy years old, the rest of him not thirty. The youthfulness of his
figure, the elasticity of his gait, and the venerable appearance of his
head, were incongruities that drew more than one pair of curious eyes
towards him. He was evidently an American,--the New England cut of
countenance is unmistakable,--evidently a man who had seen something of
the world; but strangely old and young.