alarm and made no attempt to escape. He calmly conversed with his miserable nephew; and at last, when he saw that he was touched, addressed him like a father till he had fairly subdued him. But he would not return his brother's draft. However, he gave him some help himself, and having prayed with him, let him go." "Ay, dear aunt," exclaimed Walter, "that was a hero indeed." "Yes, Walter, a true moral hero; for, if you remember, moral courage is the bravery shown, not in acting from sudden impulse, nor from `pluck,' as you call it, nor from mere animal daring, but in deliberately resolving to do and doing as a matter of principle or duty what may cost us shame, or loss, or suffering, or even death. Such certainly was Mr Fletcher's courage. A sense of duty and the fear of God upheld him against all fear of man." "True, auntie," acquiesced her nephew; "and so it was with Amos." "Yes, just so, Walter. You tell me that when your unhappy brother-in- law pointed the pistol at Amos, your brother said with perfect calmness that he was in God's hands, and not in the hands of Mr Vivian. In thus acting from duty, and deliberately hazarding the loss of his own life rather than do what his conscience disapproved of, Amos exhibited, like Mr Fletcher, the most exalted moral courage." "Thank you, dear aunt; and I am so glad that I have been permitted to help my hero out of his trouble." On the third day after this conversation, the post brought the welcome news from Amos that he should bring his sister that afternoon to her old home, and that her children would follow in a day or two. Seven years had elapsed since the erring daughter had left sorrow and shame behind her in her home, by suddenly and clandestinely quitting it, to become, without the sanction of father or mother, the wife of a specious but profligate and needy adventurer. And now, sad and forsaken, she was returning to a home which had for a long time been closed against her. Oh, with what a wild throbbing of heart did she gaze at the familiar sights which presented themselves to her on all sides, as she and Amos drove along the well-known roads, in through the great green gates, up the drive, and then, with a sudden pull up, to the front door. The next moment she had sprung on to the door-steps with an eager cry, and found herself clasped in her father's arms. "My poor, poor child! welcome home again," he murmured, with choking tears. "O father! father!" she cried, "it is too much happiness." She could say no more.