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114 the brook, to the silent glades, to his mistress; and I know by the rapture of his voice that he rejoices in the beauty around him as keenly as though he had a human soul. Often I softly open my window to listen to his deathless song, and wish that I were in the valley below standing on the moonlit sward alone with the night, the little brown bird, and my own delight. And I grow to love these hills and valleys with an exceeding love that I never knew for Silverbridge; and know that some day when I lie a-dying, in fancy I shall go back to and visit them; I shall look with clear eyes on the purple brow of the hills, hear the running silver babble of the brook, and the trill of the nightingale will come to me out of the heart of the silence

era in my existence has begun. All my life long I have hated petticoats, and longed for trousers as hopelessly as an old maid of sixty sighs for a sweetheart; and now, lo and behold! Providence, who so rarely grants to any human being his heart's desire, drops them at my feet, and any day I may step into them, and enjoy the exquisite satisfaction of not only feeling a boy, but looking one. Upstairs, in my box, lie two simple garments never yet worn, but which I may be called upon to don at any moment. Perhaps this very afternoon the summons may come, and I shall cast my encumbrances to the wind, and for once feel like Jack. If he could only see me! On the whole, though, I am rather