AS my friend stood by the window, watching the "soft falling snow," I saw him smile,—a thoughtful yet a very happy smile, and, anxious to know what brought it, I asked,—
"What do you see out there?"
"Myself," was the answer that made me stare in surprise, as I joined him and looked curiously into the street.
All I saw was a man shovelling snow; and, thoroughly puzzled, I turned to Richard, demanding an explanation. He laughed, and answered readily,—
"While we wait for Kate and the children, I'll tell you a little adventure of mine. It may be useful to you some day.
"Fifteen years ago, on a Sunday morning like this, I stood at the window of a fireless, shabby