"Why, it is like living in another world altogether," said Mr. Hayden, enthusiastically to one of the neighbors. "The children are so much happier, quieter, more peaceable. I tell you, it is like getting free from prison to come into this way of living, and my wife is getting stronger all the time. Of course you want it," he continued. "Come over some time, and we'll tell you more about it." Saying good night he walked away, leaving his friend to wonder if the entire family had not turned lunatics. Enwrapped in the seamless robe of Truth, the sharp winds of worldly criticism seldom reach us, because we are no longer susceptible to their sharpness. A gentle mildness beams from every face, for beyond the veil of outward appearances we learn to discern the pure, perfect holiness of God's child--the divinity behind the bars. Not, however, till we know how to put on this wondrous robe are we invulnerable. Although Mrs. Hayden had learned much and lived much in these last few months, there came a time, as the summer drew near, when it seemed that everything was slipping away from her. Not her health, except that her old headache occasionally threatened her, but things did not seem as clear to her. Many problems were only in a partial state of solution, and a vague dissatisfaction, a helpless discouragement took possession of her at times, very hard to bear, especially when contrasted with the light she felt had so long guided her. Of late even her treatments seemed almost fruitless. Her old-time impatience had manifested itself on several occasions, and one warm June morning she went about her work in a decidedly old-fashioned mood. It was Monday, and in addition to the washing to be seen to, the little extra help to be rendered the girl, her husband had sent her a large case of strawberries to be put up, manlike, forgetting that this day at least was full. She was hastening to get them ready before the dinner hour, and the "picking up" of the sitting-room, so essential Monday mornings, had been left till a more convenient season. Mabel had gone to school, while Jamie and Fred were playing in the sand in the back yard. With her hands in the berries, and her thoughts busily engaged, she was suddenly roused from her reverie by the noisy entrance of Fred, who just came in for a drink of water. As he turned to go out, he threw his arms around his mother's neck and gave her a boy's impetuous hug, and a kiss that ought to have rejoiced any mother's heart, but this morning it annoyed her. "Run away, now; mamma hasn't time this morning," and she pushed him impatiently away. Just then the door bell rang, and Fred sprang to answer it. In another moment he ushered into her presence a shabbily dressed, poor, miserable looking woman, who immediately asked for a drink of water. "I can get it," said the ready Fred. While he was gone, the woman began her request: