"The bird fluttered and chirped and talked with a purring song, which I fancied to say, 'Oh, my poor heart! poor heart! poor broken heart! Alas!' and it was such a strong impression that I put my hand to my own heart and held on there, while I laid my head on one side till it touched the feathers of the bird on my shoulder; and so we sat silently musing. "What do you think roused us? There was a quick fluttering in the bird's breast. She flew away from my shoulder: she flew to the top of the highest azalea, and she sung--oh, how she sung! Joy, victory over doubt, faith crowned, glimpses of heaven in the spring sunlight,--they were all in that song. I knew in a minute what had come. I threw open the sash, and out of the sunshine, borne in with the odors of the new grass and budding trees, came a little brown bird, tired as from a long journey, but with a song of greeting that overtopped even the song of welcome that awaited him. "I watched them a moment, as if in a spell, and then I tore up my letter to the baron and tossed it among the flowers; and the tears came in my eyes, and I said aloud, 'Oh, Arthur, I do love you--I know I do! If you don't come back I shall die.' "'Then, dear, you shall not die, for I am here;' and the foolish boy--for it was Arthur come back and stolen upon me to surprise me--put his dear strong arms about me, and I was ready to faint, and cried a little on his shoulder, and he kissed me, and we went in to papa and talked it all over; and he told me about his finishing his studies and hurrying home, and all about the blond, a cousin of his who was out in Leipsic with her mother studying music, and they'd made a home for him, and said I should know them and they should know me; and it was all lovely. And the result of it all is, here we are, and we love birds, and we love each other. And do you wonder at it? And here's Arthur, coming back from his letters. And, and--Come and kiss me, Arthur." And so the little lady finished with a kiss, as she had begun, and the parrot moved uneasily on his perch at being disturbed with conversation at so late an hour, and the Java sparrows twittered a little; and I rose to go, only asking, "And the baron?" "Oh! he's married since--such a lovely wife!--and I dare say is as grateful to the bird as Arthur and I. You see, he was only infatuated--Arthur and I were in love." "Good-night," from me. "Good-night, good-night," from them; and I heard another kiss as I went down the walk. WM. M.F. ROUND. THE MOCKING-BIRD.