'Mercy on us; what will he do next?' thought I, as he tweaked a feather out of his breast, gave the nib a peck, and then coolly wrote these words on the card I handed him: 'Church of the Disciples. Knock and it shall be opened!' There it was, in letters of gold; and, while I looked at it, feeling reproached that I hadn't known it sooner, my friend,—he didn't seem a stranger any more,—said in a business-like tone, as he put back his pen, 'Now I must be off. Old Ben reads an article on the "Abuses of the Press at the present day," and I must be there to report.'
'It must be very interesting. I suppose you don't allow mortals at your meetings?' said I, burning to go, in spite of the storm.
'No, ma'am. We meet on the Common; and, in the present state of the weather, I don't think flesh and blood would stand it. Bronze, marble, and wood are sterner stuff, and can defy the elements.'
'Good evening; pray, call again,' I said, hospitably.
'I will; your eyrie suits me: but don't expect me to call in the daytime. I'm on duty then, and can't take my eye off my charge. The city needs a deal of watching, my dear. Bless me! it's striking eight. Your watch is seven minutes slow by the Old South. Good-night, good-night!'
And as I opened the window, the great bird soared away like a flash of light through the storm, leaving me so astonished at the whole performance that I haven't got over it yet.
TILLY'S CHRISTMAS.
'I'm so glad to-morrow is Christmas, because I'm going to have lots of presents.'
'So am I glad, though I don't expect any presents but a pair of mittens.'