s good, after all. Let
us hope that they knew her before they closed.

She came out, and tried to tell about it, but broke down, and sobbed
before them all.

"It's a martyr's death," said the chief, and added solemnly, "Let us
pray."

He knelt, and the others with him, between the buried negro and the
unburied nurse, and thanked God for the knowledge and the recollection
of the holy life which this man had lived among them in their hour of
need.

* * * * *

They buried him, as they must, and hurried homeward to their living,
comforting one another for his memory as they could.

As for him, he rested, after her hand had fallen on his eyes. He who
had known so deeply the starvation of sleeplessness, slept well that
night.

In the morning, when they all awoke, these of the sorrowing city here,
and those of the happy city yonder; when they took up life again with
its returning sunrise,--the sick and the well, the free and the
fettered, the living and the dead,--the frost lay, cool, white,
blessed, on his grave.

THE LIFE-MAGNET.

BY ALVEY A. ADEE.

_Putnam's Magazine, August, 1870._

There was something about the wholesome sleepiness of Freiberg, in
Saxony, that fitted well with the lazy nature of Ronald Wyde. So,
having run down there to spend a day or two among the students and the
mines, and taking a liking to the quaint, unmodernized town, he bodily
changed his plans of autumn-travel, gave up a cherished scheme of
Russian vagabondage, had his baggage sent from Dresden, and made ready
to settle down and drowse away three or four months in idleness and
not over-arduous study. And this move of his led to the happening of a
very strange and seemingly unreal event in his life.

Ronald Wyde was then about twenty-five or six years old, rather above
the medium height, with thick blue-black hair that he had an
artist-trick of allowing to ripple down to his neck, dark hazel eyes
that were almost too deeply recessed in their bony orbits, and a
troublesome growth of beard that, close-shaven as he always was,
showed in strong blue outline through the thin and rather sallow skin.
His address was singularly pleasing, and his wide experience of life,
taught him by years of varied travel, made him a good deal of a
cosmopolitan in his views and ways, which caused him to be looked upon
as a not over-safe companion for young men of his own age or under.

Having made up his mind to w