she was to you.  There will never be another Helen.  There is one who has a heartache about her and no one knows it except himself and me.  She refused him a few days before she was taken ill.  He stood a long time and looked at her in her coffin, as if he forgot that any one was looking at him.  I told him it was of no use to ask her, but he persisted.  She had told me several times that he was disagreeable to her.  Her mother wonders who will take her place to us all, and we all say no one ever can.  I thank God that she lived so long for my sake.  You and she are like sisters to me.  You do me good, too.  I should miss your letters very much, for I hear from home so seldom.  You are my good little friend, and I am grateful to you.  Give my best love to every one at home and tell mother I like my business.  Mother’s photograph and yours and Helen’s are in my breast pocket.  If I should die to-night would I be as safe as Helen is?

“Your true friend,

“HOLLIS RHEID.”

* * * * *

“The Homestead, Jan. 4, 18—.

“DEAR FRIEND HOLLIS: 

“Thank you for your letter from Washington.  I took it over to your mother and read it to her and your father, all excepting about the young man who stood and looked at Helen in her coffin.  I thought, perhaps, that was in confidence.  Your father said:  ’Tell Hollis when he is tired of tramping around to come home and settle down near the old folks,’ and your mother followed me to the door and whispered:  ’Tell him I cannot feel that he is safe until I know that he has repented and been forgiven.’  And now, being through all this part, my conscience is eased and I can tell you everything else I want to.

“Look in and see us in a snow-storm.  Mother is reading for the one hundred and twenty-second and a half time somebody’s complete works on the New Testament, and father and Mr. Holmes are talking about—­let me see if I know—­ah, yes, Mr. Holmes is saying, ‘Diversity of origin,’ so you know all about it.

“Sometimes I listen instead of studying.  I would listen to this if your letter were not due for the mail to-morrow.  Father sits and smiles, and Mr. Holmes walks up and down with his arms behind him as he used to do during recitation in school.  Perhaps he does it now, only you and I are not there to see.  I wish you were here to listen to him; father speaks now and then, but the dialogue soon develops into a monologue and the master entertains and instructs us all.  If you do not receive this letter on time know that it is because I am learning about the Jew; how he is everywhere proving the truth of prophecy by becoming a resident of every country.  And yet while he is a Jew he has faces of all colors.  In the plains of the Ganges, he is black; in Syria, lighter and yet dusky; in Poland his complexion is ruddy and his hair as light as yours.  There was a little Jewess boarding around here last summer as