way the letter or wipe my eyes, a
hand was softly laid upon my shoulder. I sprang to my feet, too
frightened to speak. Instantly there was an arm around my neck an' a
kiss upon my cheek, an' I heard neighbor King say, with a happy laugh,
"It's only me, Miranda. I find I'm here as soon as my letter."

"I thought, you might not be comin' back," I whispered, with quiverin'
lips.

"Why, my darling, I've come back for you," he said, bendin' over an'
kissin' me again. "Didn't you understand me when I was here last?"

"I thought I did, but wasn't sure. The kiss was a sort of mystery. But
it's all plain now, an' I'm so happy;" an' like a little fool was off
to cryin' again, this time for gladness, an' he a-holdin' me close in
his arms.

This may not read like much of a love story, yet it was a bitter story
for me, all in all, during the years from Micah's death to the golden
mornin' that brought such sweet relief an' rest. The thought troubles
me now an' then, but I don't believe that Micah, if he sees from the
other world what I've done, blames me for the change. He knows I can't
forget him, an' would not if I could.

Through months an' years of loneliness, of heartaches, of hopin' an'
expectin', of draggin' along for no particular purpose, save to keep
body an' soul together; with few joys, an' but little else than
sighin'; an' the great world made no more for me than a little farm, a
little house, an' a voiceless sky above me--what blame, then, have I,
if I brightened an' happified my life an' his by makin' neighbor King
my husband?

THROUGH THE DARDANELLES.

BY CY WARMAN,

Author of "A Thousand-mile Ride on the Engine of a 'Flyer.'"

Soul of Sappho, if, to-night,
When my boat is drifting near
Your fair island, spirit bright--
If I sing, and if you hear,
From your island in the sea,
Soul of Sappho, speak to me.

Soul of Sappho, they have said
That your hair, a heap of gold,
Made a halo for your head;
And your eyes, I have been told,
Were like stars. Oh, from the sea,
Soul of Sappho, speak to me!

Constantinople may be considered as the end of the railway system of
the earth. Here, if you wish to see more of the Orient, you must take
to the sea. There is, to be sure, a projected railway out of the
Sultan's city into the interior, but only completed to Angora, three
hundred and sixty-five miles. The intention of the projectors was to
continue the road down to Bagd