ring, that no snowballs were thrown by the boys."

"They could hardly expect that," said I; "the world has become so
tolerant that it doesn't care."

"I rather think," Margaret replied, "that the spectators for a moment
came under the spell of the hour, and were awed by something supernatural
in the endurance of that frail girl."

"No doubt," said my wife, after a little pause. "I believe that there is
as much sense of mystery in the world as ever, and as much of what we
call faith, only it shows itself eccentrically. Breaking away from
traditions and not going to church have not destroyed the need in the
minds of the mass of people for something outside themselves."

"Did I tell you," interposed Morgan--"it is almost in the line of your
thought--of a girl I met the other day on the train? I happened to be her
seat-mate in the car-thin face, slight little figure--a commonplace girl,
whom I took at first to be not more than twenty, but from the lines about
her large eyes she was probably nearer forty. She had in her lap a book,
which she conned from time to time, and seemed to be committing verses to
memory as she looked out the window. At last I ventured to ask what
literature it was that interested her so much, when she turned and
frankly entered into conversation. It was a little Advent song-book. She
liked to read it on the train, and hum over the tunes. Yes, she was a
good deal on the cars; early every morning she rode thirty miles to her
work, and thirty miles back every evening. Her work was that of clerk and
copyist in a freight office, and she earned nine dollars a week, on which
she supported herself and her mother. It was hard work, but she did not
mind it much. Her mother was quite feeble. She was an Adventist. 'And
you?' I asked. 'Oh, yes; I am. I've been an Adventist twenty years, and
I've been perfectly happy ever since I joined--perfectly,' she added,
turning her plain face, now radiant, towards me. 'Are you one?' she
asked, presently. 'Not an immediate Adventist,' I was obliged to confess.
'I thought you might be, there are so many now, more and more.' I learned
that in our little city there were two Advent societies; there had been a
split on account of some difference in the meaning of original sin. 'And
you are not discouraged by the repeated failure of the predictions of the
end of the world?' I asked. 'No. Why should we be? We don't fix any
certain day now, but all the signs show that it is very n