Just as the clock was on the stroke of eight, a pleasant sound came fitfully to them. It was a softly whistled tune, and the cheery cadence told of a mind free from unpleasant doubts of welcome. "Surely that can't be Ned back already; he wasn't to start home until nine," said Rose, going to the window and cautiously peeping from under the curtain. "Right you are there, sister Rose," assented Cassie. "It surely can't be, especially as Ned could no more whistle 'Marching through Georgia' than you could have done the marching. It sounds uncommonly like young Farmer Dunscomb's whistle to me." "Well, whoever it is, I am deeply thankful that somebody besides a tramp is coming," interrupted Florence. "And so am I," demurely agreed Rose. "Do go to the door, Cassie, and peep out, and make sure that it isn't that dreadful creature coming back." "Are you a dreadful creature coming to murder us all?" demanded Cassie of the whistler, setting the door slightly ajar, and thrusting her head out. "Well, I don't go round giving myself out as a dreadful creature," responded a jolly voice from the porch. "Hello! What's this I'm breaking my neck over?" as the owner of the voice tripped upon an old slouch hat. "Bring that article of wearing apparel to me, if you please," requested Cassie as she opened the door, letting a flood of light out upon the visitor. "That is a little token of remembrance which I wish to keep. There!" holding the hat out at arm's length, "I have long wanted a gilt toasting-fork or rolling-pin, or something artistic, for my room; now I shall embroider these shot-holes and gild the brim and hang it up by long blue ribbons, just where my waking orbs can rest upon it as they open in the morning. Ah, this hat will ever have stirring memories for me, friend George," eying the young man dramatically. He looked at her a moment, then burst into a hearty laugh. "Is she crazy, Rose?" "Yes, she's the dearest and bravest lunatic in the world, George," answered Rose. SURRENDER. BY GERTRUDE HALL. Then lead me, Friend. Here is my hand, Not in dumb resignation lent, Because thee one cannot withstand-- In love, Lord, with complete consent. Lead--and I, not as one born blind Obeys in sheer necessity, But one with muffled eyes designed, Will blindly trust myself to thee. Lead.--Though the road thou mak'st me tread Bring sweat of anguish to my brow, And on the flints my track be red, I will not murmur--it is thou. Lead.--If we come to the cliff's crest, And I hear deep below--oh, deep!-- The torrent's roar, and "Leap!" thou sayst, I will not question--I will leap. "HUMAN DOCUMENTS." "_For of the soule the bodie forme doth take, For soule is forme and doth the bodie make._" --From "An Hymne in Honour of Beautie."--SPENSER. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.