A farmer who happened to be not far from the spot, and who had seen what had happened, came up just as Miriam, panting and excited when all the danger was over, was embracing her young brother with a violent burst of tears. "Well done, my brave little maiden!" exclaimed the farmer, clapping her on the shoulder. "But you did not stop to think that you might have been sucking poison in while trying to suck it out." "It didn't need thinking!" cried the child through her tears. "I'd much rather have lost my life than my brother!" Happily neither of the children suffered from the effects of the venom; but Hamil never forgot the proof of affection given to him by his sister. The tie which united the hearts of the twins did not become weaker by the lapse of years, and parting was a sore trial to both when Miriam entered her first place, and Hamil enlisted as a soldier. Most of the young maid's spare moments were given to writing to her absent brother, and when he was on his campaign in Abyssinia, a letter with the African post-mark on it, filled her with keen delight. The letter would be read over and over again, and then hoarded amongst her treasures. When victory crowned the British arms, when Magdala fell, Miriam was as proud of her hero brother as if the whole success of the war had depended on the prowess of his single arm. She was almost wild with joy when she heard that Hamill was ordered home, and that, after their painful separation, she should see her twin brother once more. Great joys and great sorrows are often closely linked together; sometimes when we are feeling for the sweet ripe fruit, we unexpectedly find the serpent. Miriam had some difficulty in getting leave to go and see her brother, who was stationed for a short time at Greenwich after his arrival from Abyssinia. Miriam's impatience was so great that she almost threw up her place, because she had to wait for two or three days before obtaining this leave. At last, with a heart bounding with joy, Miriam set out on her little journey in company with Mrs. Smith, a soldier's wife, who was going to her husband at Woolwich. Fast went the train, but not fast enough to suit the impatience of Miriam. Short was the journey, but to the eager girl every mile seemed to swell into ten. Woolwich was reached, and Miriam with her companion was soon hurrying up one of the streets. "How fast you walk, my dear," observed Mrs. Smith with a smile; "you must remember that I'm not quite so young as you are. I'll get my husband to find out your brother and bring him to our meeting-place at the baker's; for, eager as you are, I suppose that you'll hardly rush right into the barracks to see him." Miriam laughed—how merry and blithe was her laugh—and slackened her pace a little. As they turned the corner of a street, Mrs. Smith spoke again, but in a lower tone, to her young companion.