reported that the little one would not live to land unless the nausea could be conquered.  Then mamma sought the parents, told them she was a Christian Scientist, and, with their consent, would try to help the child.  The mother was eager to try it, but the father sneered openly.  He had ‘no faith in any such mummery,’ he said, yet he finally yielded to his wife’s almost frantic appeals and gave his consent.  The dear little thing was relieved almost immediately, and at the end of two hours, after eating a wholesome meal, was wrapped in a blanket and carried on deck, weak and white as a snowflake, it is true, but entirely free from the dreadful nausea, and smiling happily as she lay in her father’s arms and breathed in the fresh, pure air.  The next day she was dressed and playing about the deck with other children.”

“Well, that was a signal triumph over materia medica, wasn’t it?  How did the doctors bear it?” queried Miss Reynolds, who had been deeply interested in the story.

“The ship’s surgeon and Dr. Fletcher, of Philadelphia, gave mamma a very wide berth; but Dr. Stanley appeared to be really interested and anxious to learn the secret of the sudden cure.  He found it very difficult, however, to accept some of our views, and it was too funny for anything to hear him, day after day, trying to corner mamma upon numberless points on which he had spent years of study,” and Katherine laughed out merrily over some of the memories which her account had recalled.

“That was what he meant, perhaps, when he said ’Mrs. Minturn would not be teased and could not be defeated in an argument’?”

“Yes; he was very good-natured over it, though, gallantly bearing his defeat, never manifesting the slightest irritation, and was always most courteous.  He is very cultured, and, having traveled extensively, we found much to admire and a very delightful compagnon de voyage in him.”

Miss Reynolds shot a keen look at the girl’s animated face.

“Yes,” she observed to herself, “and if I am not very much mistaken, our ‘cultured gentleman’ heartily reciprocates that last statement.”  Then she remarked to Katherine:  “He is really a noble fellow and bound to make his mark in the world.  It is a great pity, though, that he should be so handicapped in his career.”

“Why, what do you mean?” exclaimed the girl, in astonishment.

“Oh! do you not know that he is partially blind?”

“No, indeed!  Why, he has beautiful eyes!” said Katherine, flushing.

“Yes, dear, I know he has, and there are very few who even suspect his misfortune, but it is true, nevertheless.  When he was a boy of nine,” Miss Reynolds went on to explain, “his father was showing him, one Fourth of July, how to manage some cannon crackers.  By some fatality, the first and only one fired hit a post, glanced off and struck the child in the eye.  When he recovered somewhat from the fright and pain caused by the accident, no