harmless-sounding cause. She had been looking up into one of her
apple-trees, one day, a few weeks ago, and an apple had fallen and struck
her in the eye. Such innocent means does Nature sometimes use for her
cruel accidents of disease and death! Just an apple falling from a
tree,--and you are blind! A fly stings you, on a Summer day, and you die.

Colin, rested and refreshed, we once more started on our way, but,
bravely as he strode on, there was no disguising it--my blithe,
happy-hearted companion was ill. Of course we both assured the other that
it could be nothing, but privately our hearts sank with a vague fear we
did not speak. At length, after a weary four miles, we reached Towanda.

"I'm afraid," said poor Colin, "I can walk no more to-day. Perhaps a good
night's rest will make me all right." We found an inn, and while Colin
threw himself, wearied, on his bed, I went out, not telling him, and
sought a doctor.

"And you've been walking with this temperature?" said the learned man,
when he had seated himself at Colin's bedside and felt his wrist. "Have
you been drinking much water as you went along? ... H'm--it's been a very
dry Summer, you know."

And the words of our friend in the buggy came back to us with sickening
emphasis. O those innocent-looking fairy wells and magic mirrors by the
road-side! And I thought, too, of the poor old blinded woman and the
falling apple. Was Nature really like that?

And then the wise man's verdict fell on our ears like a doom.

"Take my advice, and don't walk any more, but catch the night train for