ld them of his new hopes and purposes.
We can not describe that scene, but surely the angels saw and rejoiced
over it. Then once more, before his friends and neighbors in
prayer-meeting, with trembling voice he related his experience. Tears
and "amens" greeted it, all testifying to the spirit of true brotherly
love. Some, to be sure, there were who said, "Can the leopard change
his spots?" But when, Sabbath after Sabbath, they saw that the head of
the "Lyman pew" neither pretended to be asleep, nor to have forgotten
his wallet when the much-abused green contribution bag swung along,
but instead deposited therein the freshest scrip, they said, "Truly,
this is the Lord's doings, and is marvelous in our eyes."

Perhaps the story of the change at home is about as Tillie whispered
it in the ear of a confidential friend. "You see pa asks a blessin'
now 'fore we eats; and then we read the Bible; and he prays the Lord
to keep us good all the day long; and so we grow gooder and gooder. Pa
bought mother a new black silk dress the other day, and Oh, he's so
much lovinger than he ever was before!" Yes, he was "lovinger," as
Tillie called him, for truly he had passed from death unto life.

The old homestead, too, soon began to change visibly. The shades of
ugliness that had so long hung over it vanished away. Its very angles
seemed to grow less acute, and never, in its palmiest days, had it
rejoiced in such bright coats of paint. But, with all the brightening
up without and within, there was one most cozy place of all where the
family was wont to assemble each Sabbath evening. "Seem's though it's
always full of rainbows," Nick said; but that must have been owing to
the blessed influence of her who sat there, for this dearest of all
nooks was "grandmother's room."

God has not promised skies ever blue,
Flower-strewn pathways always to you;
God has not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain;
But God has promised strength from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

THE YOUNG MUSICIAN

Jonas Johnson was the youngest son of an organ-builder in New England.
He was a small, quiet boy, in no way remarkable except in his passion
for harmonies. So great was his love for music, that from his most
tender years he could not listen unmoved to the singing of his sisters
as they went about their homely work; and if the voices happened to be
discordant he ran shuddering from the