xert itself to please. Christmas morning was ushered in
with a sharp little flurry of snow. The scene was a very pretty one, as
the soft white flakes, some of them as large as a canary's wing, fell
athwart the green foliage of the live-oaks and the magnolias.

"This is my hour!" exclaimed Helen enthusiastically.

"We enjoy it with you," said Hallie simply.

During the afternoon the clouds melted away, the sun came out, and the
purple haze of Indian summer took possession of air and sky. In an hour
the weather passed from the crisp and sparkling freshness of winter, to
the wistful melancholy beauty of autumn.

"This," said Hallie gently, "is _my_ hour." She was standing on the
broad veranda with Helen. For reply, the latter placed her arm around
the Southern girl; and they stood thus for a long time, their thoughts
riming to the plaintive air of a negro melody that found its way across
the fields and through the woods.

Christmas at Waverly, notwithstanding the fact that the negroes were
free, was not greatly different from Christmas on the Southern
plantations before the war. Few of the negroes who had been slaves had
left the place, and those that remained knew how a Christmas ought to be
celebrated. They sang the old-time songs, danced the old-time dances,
and played the old-time plays.

All this was deeply interesting to the gentlewomen from Boston; but
there was one incident that left a lasting impression on both, and
probably had its effect in changing the future of one of them. It
occurred one evening when they were all grouped around the fire in the
drawing-room. The weather had grown somewhat colder than usual, and big
hickory logs were piled in the wide fireplace. At the suggestion of
Hallie the lights had been put out, and they sat in the ruddy glow of
the firelight. The effect was picturesque indeed. The furniture and the
polished wainscoting glinted and shone, and the shadows of the big brass
andirons were thrown upon the ceiling, where they performed a witch's
dance, the intricacy of which was amazing to behold.

It was an interesting group, representing the types of much that is best
in the civilization of the two regions. Their talk covered a great
variety of subjects, but finally drifted into reminiscences of the
war--reminiscences of its incidents rather than its passions.

"I have been told," said Miss Eustis, "that a dead Union soldier was
brought here during the war, and buried. Was his name