, 1880-08-30

"Well, let us hope for the miracle,
then, dear. God has never quite de-
serted us in our deepest troubles, and
don't believe He will forsake us
now"
As she spoke she drew her thin
shawl more closely around her, shlver-
ing in spite of herself under the cold
blast, which seemed to receive no check
from her scanty coverings. Again the
pair crept on and, passing beneath the
lofty wall of st. Winifred's Church,
stood beneath it for temporary shelter
from the driving wind and snow.
While so standing they caught the
faint sounds of the organ solemnly
pealing within.
"Noble music" said the old man, as
the final chords died away; noble
music, and a soul in the playing. That
man, whoever he may be, should have
generous heart"
Hush grandfather" said the girl,
he is beginning to play again"
Scarcely had the music commenced.
however, than the pair gazed at each
other in breathless surprise.
Lily darling, do you hear what he
is playing?" sid the old man in an ex-
cited whisper.
"A strange coincidence" the girl re-
piled.
"Strange! it is more than strange!
Lily darling, who could play that
song?'
The melody came to an end, and all
pause, and then. as if by common i'm
pulse, the old man drew his bow across
the strings, and the girl sweet voice
carolled forth the second verse of the
song. Scarcely had they ended, when
door opened at the foot of the church
tower just beside them, and Michael
Fray, bareheaded, with his scanty locks
blown about by the wind, stood before
them. He hnrried forward and then
stood still, shamefaced, bewildered.
The song had called up the vision of a
gallant young sailor, full of life aud
health, as Michael had seen his brother
for the last time on the day when he
sailed on his fatal voyage. He had
hurried forth, forgetting the years that
had passei, full of tender memories of
happy boyish days, to find. alas! only
q couple of wandering beggars, singing
for bread.
"I beg your pardon" he said,
striving vainly to master his emotions;
"you sang song just now which
] which-a song which was a favorite of
dear friend of mine many years ago.
Will you-will you tell me where you
got it 2"
BY the best of all titles, SIR" the
old fiddler answered, drawing himself
up with touch of artistic pride; =
wrote it myself, words and music
| both"
"Nay. SIR" said Michael sterniy,
"you rob the dead A dearly loved
brother of mine wrote that song forty
years ago."
"Well, upon my word!" said the old
| fiddler, waxing wrOth-'' then your
brother must have stol.n it from me!
What might this precious brother s
name be. pray?"
! An honest name. a name I am
proud to speak," said Michael firing
mp in his turn; his name Was Richard
Fray!'
The old street musician staggered as
! if he had received blow.
/ WhatE he exclaimed. peerins :
eagerly into the others face; "then
YOU are my brother Michael, for l am
Richard Fray!'
| Half an hour later aud the brothers
so long parted, SO strangely brought
! together, were seated round roaring
fire in Michael Fray's quaint,
three cornered parlor. Michael's
stores had been ransacked for warm,
dry clothing for the wanderers.
Drawers long closed yielded. when
opened, sweet scent of lavender, and
containing homely skirts and bodices.
kept still in loving memory of little
Nell gave up their treasures for Lilly 8
benefit. and Richard Fray's snow-sod-
den clothes we're replaced by Michael's
choicest coat and softest slippers. The
wanderers had done full justice to a
plentiful meal and q jng of fragrant
punch now steamed upon the hob and
was laid nn!er frequent contributions,
while Richard Fray told the story of
thirty years wandering, and the
brothers found how it had come to
pass that, each thinking the other dead
they had lived their lives, married, and
! buried their dear ones, being some
times but few miles ap irt, and yet as
distant as though severed by the grim
Dvider himself. And Lilly sat on a
cushion at her grandfather's feet pic
ture of qniet happiness, and sang sweet
songs to please the two old men, while
Michael lovingly traced in her soft
features fanciful likenesses to his lost
Nelly. the strange similarity of the
sweet voice aiding the tender illusion.
And surely no happier family party was
gathered together in all England. on
that Christmastide, than that little
group round Michael Fray's quiet fire.