=Grafenburg People.= By REUEN THOMAS. A novel out of a row in the church—a good one; that is, novel, not row.
=Romance of a Letter.= By LOWELL CHOATE. A life with an inflexible purpose turns out happy or not, according to—what? The old question: When do we arrive at “years of discretion?”
=Rusty Linchpin and Luboff Archipovna.= By MADAME KOKHANOVSKY. Two stories of Russian life, of characteristic simplicity and interest.
_Volume 15, Number 1._ Copyright, 1887, by D. LOTHROP COMPANY. _November 5, 1887._
[Illustration: THE CAT THAT COULD OPEN DOORS.]
WHOSOEVER, THEREFORE, SHALL CONFESS ME BEFORE MEN, HIM WILL I CONFESS ALSO, BEFORE MY FATHER WHICH IS IN HEAVEN.
COME UNTO ME, ALL YE THAT LABOR AND ARE HEAVY LADEN, AND I WILL GIVE YOU REST.
IT IS LAWFUL TO DO WELL ON THE SABBATH DAYS.
I SHALL have to begin the story for you, or you would never understand. It happened that the twelve girls in Mr. Shepard’s Bible class were very nearly of an age; were class-mates in day school, as well as on Sundays, and were very fond of one another.
They lived in different parts of the country, but were gathered in Clayville at boarding-school.
It came to pass that on this year of which I write, they were to be widely scattered; only one was to return to the school in the fall. It was because of this fact that the thought grew up, out of which grows my story. On the last Sabbath before they separated, Mr. Shepard gave to each a tiny book of texts; one for each week, with the hint that he would like them to live by those words in the coming year.
This set them to thinking and to talking. After many plans, it was finally agreed that they should each select a month in which to write a letter that should give some account of an experience connected with one of the verses for that month. These letters were to be passed by mail from one member of the class to another until each had read them; and I, being a particular friend of several of the girls, have the privilege of reading them, and of making a copy for you, my Blossoms.
Cora Stevens had the month of November, and, without more introduction, I give you her letter:
I hope you every one miss me as much as I do you! Really and truly, I am dreadfully homesick for school! But this is my special letter, so I must not take time for anything else. I’m sorry I promised to write the first one, because I don’t know just how to write it, and I have such a mean, silly little story to tell, that I’m ashamed of it, anyhow.