ains, with feathery crowns of violet cloud.

Suddenly a sound of music floated on the air; and they stood
spell-bound, with heads bowed, as if their souls were hushed in
prayer. When it ceased, Mr. Blumenthal drew a long breath, and said,
"Ah! that was our Mendelssohn."

"How exquisitely it was played," observed his wife, "and how in
harmony it was with these groves! It sounded like a hymn in the
forest."

They lingered, hoping again to hear the invisible musician. As they
leaned against the trees, the silver orb of the moon ascended from the
horizon, and rested on the brow of Mount Holyoke; and from the same
quarter whence Mendelssohn's "Song without Words" had proceeded, the
tones of "Casta Diva" rose upon the air. Flora seized her husband's
arm with a quick, convulsive grasp, and trembled all over. Wondering
at the intensity of her emotion, he passed his arm tenderly round her
waist and drew her closely to him. Thus, leaning upon his heart, she
listened with her whole being, from the inmost recesses of her soul,
throughout all her nerves, to her very fingers' ends. When the sounds
died away, she sobbed out: "O, how like Rosa's voice! It seemed as if
she had risen from the dead."

He spoke soothingly, and in a few minutes they descended the hill and
silently wended their way homeward. The voice that had seemed to
come from another world invested the evening landscape with mystical
solemnity. The expression of the moon seemed transfigured, like a
great clairvoyant eye, reflecting light from invisible spheres, and
looking out upon the external world with dreamy abstraction.

When they arrived at their lodgings, Flora exclaimed: "O Mamita Lila,
we have heard such heavenly music, and a voice so wonderfully like
Rosa's! I don't believe I shall sleep a wink to-night."

"Do you mean the Aunt Rosa I was named for?" inquired her daughter.

"Yes, Rosen Blumen," replied her mother; "and I wish you had gone with
us, that you might have an idea what a wonderful voice she had."

This led to talk about old times, and to the singing of various airs
associated with those times. When they retired to rest, Flora fell
asleep with those tunes marching and dancing through her brain; and,
for the first time during many years, she dreamed of playing them to
her father, while Rosabella sang.

The next morning, when the children had gone out to ramble in the
woods with their father, her memory being full of those old times,
she bega