And as she sat down mournfully before her shrine, tears dimmed her eyes, so that she could scarcely see the Radiance there, and, falling on her harp-strings, would have rusted them and marred their sweetness; whilst in the silence, a voice, too long and bitterly familiar, was heard at the door. Turning round, she perceived the form of the Enemy there, whilst behind him glared fierce and hungry eyes, and in her terror, the harp almost fell from her hands. But she threw herself on her knees before the altar, pressed the harp convulsively to her heart, and cried, "Will these ruins never be repaired, these doors never closed against my enemy and thine?" The pressure of her trembling fingers drew forth some plaintive strains, like the wind on Æolian strings; but low and plaintive as they were, the enemy disappeared, and the wild beasts fled howling from them. Then she began to perceive the power of her harp, and drew from it a song of joy and triumph. And as she still gazed on the radiant shrine, a veil seemed to be withdrawn from it, and she perceived that it was a window, so that the light streamed through it, not from it. Wondering, she gazed, until, penetrating further and further through the light, she saw in the depths of heaven a Temple like her own, only perfect, glorious beyond comparison, and full;—full of worshippers robed and singing like herself, and full of that wondrous radiance which streamed from the heavenly form she had seen. She laid her harp upon the shrine, and to her surprise the strings began to quiver of their own accord. An electric current united them to the harps in the heavenly temple, and they vibrated in exquisite harmonies the echo of the harmonies above. And with the heavenly strains, came a voice divine and human, mighty as the sound of many waters, yet soft and near as a whisper in her ear: "Here all ruins are repaired, the enemy cannot enter here, but here thou shalt dwell for ever." And softly floated down these other words:— "For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." The Jewel of the Order of the King's Own. ————— ONCE on the sea-shore, in a land a long way off, I met an old man dressed as a galley-slave, and toiling at convicts' work, with a heavy chain around one of his arms; but his face and bearing were stamped with the truest nobility. I felt sure he must be a victim of some political cabal, and not a criminal, for not a trace of crime or remorse debased that calm brow and those clear, honest eyes. This might not have struck me as remarkable, since such unmerited sufferings were but too common in that country. What arrested my attention was the expression of unfeigned and lofty joy which irradiated his aged countenance.