Very," answered she, shortly; she could not bear to talk of this to Walter, and changed the subject. Very carefully had Mrs. Evans and Sally kept the secret, and it had so happened that it had never been made known to either of the boys. In large cities people are constantly moving and removing, and both Dr. Evans and the Willis's, having changed their residence, no one near them remembered, or perhaps even knew, of the finding of the children.

A week passed away; Israel had enlisted; his regiment was ordered to Portsmouth, and Sally took a weeping farewell of him, putting together everything she could think of for his comfort, and extracting solemn assurances from him that he would write often, as she placed in his hand two portraits of herself and Jacob, looking very stiff and unnatural in their "best things," while Jacob gave him a Bible with his name written in it, and a five-pound note folded between the leaves. Then after he had really gone, Sally sat down and, as she expressed it, "nearly cried her eyes out;" then suddenly jumping up, she went to a bag and took out a cork, which she put in her pocket, “to make her light-hearted."

We must now pass over five years, noting briefly one or two incidents which occurred during that time. Walter had completed his terms in the London University, and gained his diploma. He now practised for a time with Dr. Evans, who had much increased his practice. Maud had finished her education and returned home. She was a beautiful and lady-like girl, and a true gentlewoman in heart. Dr. and Mrs. Evans had seen how dearly Walter and Maud loved each other in the pure unrestrained freedom of home. They knew the strength and worth of Walter's character, which, while it resembled his brother's, was refined and elevated by his superior training. They felt much perplexed, and after a great deal of consideration, Dr. Evans decided when Christmas Eve once more drew near to relate the story of twenty-three years ago.

The time had come, they were sitting round the fire, their family party only augmented by Mrs. Bertrand, who always, if possible, spent Christmas with her daughter, and who was in the secret.

"We should pass the time pleasantly by each one telling a short story. What do you say to it, all of you ?"

"It will be delightful, papa," replied Maud. "Who will begin?" “Your papa, as he has been the proposer," replied her grandmamma, who saw that her daughter was unable to speak.

"Then go on, papa dear, be sure it is an interesting story, or Walter will fall asleep."

"I promise that none of you shall pay me so poor a compliment," and the Doctor related the story of twenty-three years ago already known to our readers.

Silence ensued, Mrs. Evans almost fancied she could hear the beating of her heart, when suddenly Walter rose and left the room. Maud spoke as soon as the door closed upon him,—

66 Mamma, you look so pale; are you ill?"

"No, dear; I am very glad your papa has finished his self-imposed task, but I fear the effect on Walter.”

"It is a charming romance, is it not ?" answered Maud, whose girlish fancy was pleased with the story, which had made Walter a hero in her eyes. "Did you know, grandmamma ?"

'Yes, my love, I have known it for years, but pledged myself to secrecy. I am glad, however, that Walter knows; it is better than living in the dark. Go to him, Nettie," added the old lady, and Mrs. Evans sought Walter's room.

She found him with his arms crossed on the table, and his face buried on them. As he knelt he was trying to think out the story of his life. The discovery was to him one of mingled pain and joy, which as yet he could not analyse, when Mrs. Evans stepped behind him, and, laying her hand upon his bowed head, said,—

"My son, are you grieving about this?"

He answered, sorrowfully, "No longer your son in name, but for ever in heart."

66 Yes," she said, "for ever in heart; but oh, Walter! do not tell me I must give you up!"

Not if Dr. Evans and you tell me to hope; but I cannot stay here, I must go away for a time. I have been living under false pretences, and carrying myself far above my brother, when I had no right to my position, save through your charity. I will not stay now, I cannot stay; I must go away and seek my parents, and if I cannot find myself a name, I must make one; then I will return to you. Do not think me ungrateful, dearest and best of friends, believe in my sincerity, but let me go."

"I can readily enter into your feelings, dear boy, but do not let them mar our happiness at this hallowed season of the year, which is also the anniversary of a great joy to me ever since the stormy night when first

I held you in my arms, and thanked GOD for His gracious answer to my prayer in giving you to me. You have been always a comfort and treasure to me, and by my love for you, dear Walter, I implore you do not try to shut me out of your heart, but ever think of me as a mother who wishes only to retain a son. Let us leave the subject for a few days, until Christmas be over, and then we will decide what to do."

Walter rose as Mrs. Evans stooped and pressed upon his forehead a loving kiss, and putting his arms round her he returned her embrace, and entered the drawing-room with her leaning on his arm. No allusion was made by common consent to the subject uppermost in every heart. Only when "good nights" were exchanged, Dr. Evans infused much warmth into his manner. He had felt it a matter of duty to trouble the waters of life flowing on so quietly, and now he left it to a Physician mightier than he to pour oil upon the waves, and send peace to the troubled soul. Walter received the kindness of his manner in a half deprecating way, which was not unnoticed. Mrs. Evans kissed him with the love of a fond, proud mother; and Maud did not refuse her customary salute under the mistletoe, while Mrs. Bertrand pressed his hand between both of hers as she emphatically wished him "many a happy Christmas."

But there were two hearts who kept vigil that night. Walter sat by the fading embers of his fire far into the early morning hours, lost in conjectures as to his parentage, and feeling as it were like a vessel suddenly cut from its moorings. But to one step he made up his mindhe would seek his brother, and together they would try to discover something of their friends. He would go to Jacob Willis next day but one, and learn from him the whereabouts of Israel, to whom his heart went out as the only kinsman he could claim. Mrs. Evans on her bed, during the dark hours of the night, dwelt with sorrow almost amounting to anguish on the fact, that if Walter found his parents she must resign all claim to his love. She forgot that affection given and received from infancy becomes rooted in the soul, as a part of itself, and that although for a time other objects may engross part of it, it returns, like the torrent diverted from its course by the rock, to its first channel with renewed force.

In the morning the whole family attended morning prayers; and as Walter listened to the ever beautiful story of the birth of our Blessed Redeemer, the Holy Child JESUS, he took comfort, and felt brave to endure whatever might be in store for him, and thus the Good Phy

sician poured the balm of Gilead into his sorrowful heart, and gave him the peace" which passeth understanding."

On the same evening Sally was suddenly announced as wishing to speak to Mrs. Evans alone, and on that lady joining her she made an apology for her intrusion, adding,-"I have just come from the station, maʼam, from seeing Israel off. He came last night all on the sudden, and gave me such a turn as nearly made me put pepper in the puddin' instead of spice, and Jacob he come in just then, and started back struck all of a heap. Mother and father,' he says, 'I'm come for to-night-our regiment is ordered to the Crimea.' I says, 'O dear, my boy! my boy!' Then he says, 'Now, mother dear, don't cry! let us eat our Christmas dinner together to-morrow, and join in the Christmas hymns once more with joy. It may be the last time on earth, but if it is there will be endless joy in heaven.' Oh, dear, ma'am, I did feel bad, but I didn't let him see, and I bustled about, and we had supper, and all to-day he has seemed so loving and kind that my heart's ready to break, for I'm sure we shall never see him no more."

"Do not be superstitious, Sally dear. I have much to say to you, but cannot stay now, my absence will be noticed-so come with Jacob at seven to-morrow evening. And now, good night, and my best sympathy go with you."

"We'll be sure to come, ma'am. Good night." Mrs. Evans shook hands, and in a few minutes Sally was on her way home.

The next evening was a trying time. Walter was much grieved when he heard that his brother had been so near him, while his heart had yearned for him, and he had not known he was there. His behaviour to Jacob and his wife was, as the latter remarked, that of a "real gentleman," but she did not agree with him in his purpose of seeking his parents. She said on her return home, as she waited while Jacob made ready to go on his beat," Well, I like Mr. Walter wonderful, but I can't understand how he can want to go after them as never cared for him."

PART II.

WE will now follow Israel to the seat of war, the Crimean war, with whose history all are more or less familiar. He had not yet been into action, and while he looked forward with true soldierly elation to the time, his heart was holding loving converse with those dear friends left

behind. During the years he had been in the army, his unexceptionable behaviour had gained for him rapid promotion; he was now a corporal: ever faithful in the discharge of his duties, always kind and obliging to his messmates, and respectful to his superior officers. The chaplain was a man eminently calculated for his post, and from his teaching and example, blessed by the Holy Spirit of GOD, Israel became a soldier worthy to fight under England's banner, and also a soldier of the Cross of CHRIST. And now we see him writing in the trenches before Sebastopol a letter to Sally, which she carried to Mrs. Evans for her perusal, who begged it of Sally that she might post it to Walter; he was now absent taking the practice of a surgeon who was in ill health, in one of the northern counties of England. The letter ran as follows:

"My dear Father and Mother,-For such you always will be to me, I have opened the packet you gave me, and read the contents. It is very wonderful that I should have been taken care of by you, who now know nothing further of me than the letter tells me. I shall always be your son, if you will let me, and can never love you more than I do now, for all your care of me. Who I am does not trouble me. I am writing to you in the trenches, hoping this will find you well, as it leaves me quite well, thank GOD. I have been looking at your likenesses, and thinking very much about you and father too, for all here is ruin and desolation, with the dying and the dead around us, and the cannons roaring in the distance. I have been in two skirmishes, and have not been hurt, thank GOD. Every evening the chaplain addresses us, and his words put new life and energy into us and all the officers. Lieutenant Merton has been talking with me about dear old England. Here the officers seem to lose sight of rank, and we all join in one common cause, and we know that if GOD is for us none can be against us. If I should never write another letter, or see you again on earth, goodbye, dear father and mother, and that GOD may bless and keep you both is the prayer of

"Your affectionate son,

"ISRAEL WILLIS."

When Walter read the letter he felt more than ever drawn towards his brother, and resolved to write to him, telling him full particulars of what he had learned respecting themselves; but the next letter he