It was wonderful what power and sweetness there was in her voice;
burst after burst of rich melody fell from her trembling lips. Her
soul echoed the sentiments of the immortal bard, and she repeated
again and again the fifth verse:

"In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life;
Be not like dumb, driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife."

Intuitively she seemed to feel that an hour of great trial was at
hand, and this was a girding for the combat. With the shield of a
warm, hopeful heart, and the sword of a strong, unfaltering will,
she awaited the shock; but as she concluded her song the head bowed
itself upon her arms, the shadow of the unknown, lowering future had
fallen upon her face, and only the Great Shepherd knew what passed
the pale lips of the young orphan. She was startled by the sharp
bark of a dog, and, looking up, saw a gentleman leaning against a
neighboring tree, and regarding her very earnestly. He came forward
as she perceived him, and said with a pleasant smile:

"You need not be afraid of my dog. Like his master, he would not
disturb you till you finished your song. Down, Carlo; be quiet, sir.
My little friend, tell me who taught you to sing."

She had hastily risen, and a slight glow tinged her cheek at his
question. Though naturally reserved and timid, there was a self-
possession about her unusual in children of her age, and she
answered in a low voice, "I have never had a teacher, sir; but I