They were speechless, and only could stare at the box Directed to Mamie St. Clair, From “The Lord in Heaven.” What did it all mean? And a letter beside was there-- A letter from heaven read: “Be a good girl, And never do anything ill; Love mamma as well as you do to-day.” And a fifty-dollar bill. If I wrote from now till the crack of doom, I could tell no more than this. It was all packed down in that wonderful box, And the dolly--oh, gracious! what bliss! And in time that letter to heaven direct Sent many and many a friend, And perhaps a new papa--who knows?--may be sent By heaven itself, in the end. Striking out for Themselves. BY F. H. SWEET. “Reckon we’ll get ’em burned out by Tuesday week, Tom, and be ready for Pylant’s oranges. Suppose the old fellow will want us to take pay in town lots, though.” “He’ll get left if he does;” and the lad by the fire removed the skillet of fried bacon from the coals and put the coffee-pot in its place. “I’m willing to work out a five-acre lot, but don’t want any towns. Say, Dave, what do you think of the party going to Punta Rassa?” he added, as he thrust a stick into the bean-pot to see what prospect there was for an early supper. “Well, from what I hear, I fancy there is plenty of good land to be homesteaded in that section, and if we didn’t have a good job here, I’d be for joining them. I begin to feel a little anxious to have some land where we can be starting trees of our own.” “Same here; but the land will come in good time, and while we’ve got a week’s rations of bacon and hominy ahead, I shan’t kick against luck. But grub’s ready.” Both lads fell to with a relish. Beans seemed to be the central dish at almost every meal, and yet they somehow never seemed to tire of them. They had encountered a good many hard knocks since leaving their Western home, but were evidently none the worse for them. Dave Freeman, the son of a hard-working Kansas farmer, had come South to better his prospects, and with a deep but unexpressed longing to help the home folks. At Flomaton, or Pensacola Junction, as it is now called, he had fallen in with Tom Byrne, an Indiana boy, and the two had soon become fast friends. By getting occasional jobs along the way, and not infrequently “tramping it,” they had reached their present quarters, near Panasofkee, in Sumter County. Here they had taken a contract from a “papertown” proprietor to clear five acres of land for seventy-five dollars. This was a low figure, as the ground was full of palmetto roots, and not only were the trees to be cleared from the land, but all stumps to be burned out. The boys already had been at work over two months, and hoped that another week would complete the job. On the first, their employer was to commence gathering his oranges, and they expected several weeks’ employment with him.