son and daughter to his mother until he came back to keep their wedding feast and festival in the little "Church of St. John," where he and she were christened when babies "Alice" and "John"; where, before he went voyages with his father, he had sung as chorister boy from the time he could read. Now, his clear tenor voice would ring out in the chants and hymns of the Church's grand old liturgy. The little girl's heart was very sad in thinking of the long time of separation and of the mother's new grief, at thought of her comfort and her stay thousands of miles away and alone upon the sea. Yes, alone in his cabin, but for one trusty mate. 66 For men must work and women must weep, And now Christmas is passed, the pretty betrothal ring is on the finger, the last kiss is given to mother and sweetheart, and the strong, white-winged bird, "The Success," puts out to sea! May God be with him, my good, brave-hearted boy! is the mother's prayer. II. Here is my strong, broad-shouldered sailor-anchored after a fifteen months' cruise. Yes, anchored fast and sure, at these sugar-producing islands— Hawaii. He has found the fair paradise of which he dreamed he has sold his tidy little ship, put the money into cane-invested in the Kapioanelani plantation. But the rains did not come this year for this district! The irrigation is defective! There are no dividends for him at present! Time may mend matters. He will not fret, he says; he has youth and health, and if he loses that which his father earned, he will redeem it every dollar, or die in the attempt. And so I find him here to-night, resting his tired head upon his arms in the old sugar-mill, for he is chief sugar-boiler of the Nakaona plantation, which is an old and safe one, and has for many years brought in fabulous sums of money to its owners-tons upon tons of sweetest sugar. The head-manager, a shrewd, wise, good-hearted man, well into the fifties, has had his ups and downshis taste of the sea, his youth on the eastern shore as well-his home beloved, his wreck-his dead! He determines that the sailor captain shall have the vacant post which always commands a high salary on a wellto-do plantation. It is a difficult work; by night and by day, unceasing vigilance, skill and patience. Long hours' watch by night-hot hours' work by day! No money must be lost, no sugar go to waste for want of eyes or wakefulness! But this is Christmas eve again, and two long years have passed since he sailed off so confident and full of hope so sure of home and gain in a twelve-month! "Never mind!" he says again, he will work for one year more here, and then he will go back to the snows and storms of his eastern shore! Back to home and love! Back to his father's life, the fishing craft! If needs must-to shipwreck and drowning, but surely back to love and home! One year longer (no more, he says) of heat, fire and steam-of sugar which is not sweet to the taste, nor honey in the mouth-another year of hardest, unwearying toil, and he will be gone! And as he lies there for just a few minutes, thinking of the dear old home, the pretty church all trimmed and lighted to-night, the carols, the snowballing, the happy Christmas cheer, his heart is very sore, and bitter thoughts will enter his mind, and he could almost curse the day when he sold his birthright, his staunch little vessel, for shares in a sugar plantation, and found himself slowly but surely losing his splendid health and courage in a sugar-mill! "All is not gold that glitters," neither is there wealth always in a plantation! Ah! my bonnie Blue-eyes is gone (sad to say, for what will become of the "boiling"?) to Dorimo Hill." Hush! he is sound asleep! sound asleep, this Christmas eve, in the old mill, and sugar is forgotten. by him! But, listen to the heavenly music! An angel is entering the dusty mill to-night, to do his weary work! Softly she wafts about, a being of light and beauty. White as the snow on his own hills at home are her garments, a rainbow-glory about her head-her hands upon the harp! Gently she draws the old curtain, to shut the moonlight from his brow and head, fanning him slowly with her wings the while when he grows restless, yet playing on and on that he may dream to-night to God's own music! "Are they not all ministering angels sent to minister to those who shall be heirs of salvation?" And thick and fast the visions from the skies are forming one after another in his over-taxed and weary brain. For the yield of sugar on this place this season is enormous, and boiling must not cease for him to rest! Ah, no! "For men must work, and women must weep, And the harbor-bar be moaning." He dreams of talking with his father again, a boy on the ship; of their suppers in the little cabin; of the rainy nights on deck, when they watch together for the "Light" near home. And then he dreams of his Alice, as a little girl, pelting him with snowballs on the way home from school; and her merry laughter, when she sent his little cap a-flying; of the big snow man they built up together, a wonder to themselves! And his dream rambles on, until he is back again to the sugar-cane, and looking off to the hills which skirt Kauai, he sees that they have changed to look like immense pyramids of whitest crystal sugar; that the houses, going up here and there, are being cut from it-that, as far as his eyes can reach or discern, there is chimney after chimney, tall as a church spire, and mills where sugar is boiling!-that all Nature seems turning to sugar, and that mankind, at least in Hawaii, is fast going sugar-mad! And when he questions the quiet and thoughtful manager, who has always been his kind and helpful friend and adviser, he tells him it is quite true that the process has been going on, surely but noiselessly, for many months, but that he, being wrapped up in his engrossing mill work and his dreams of home, had failed to detect the change! Dreams are made of such strange, unreasonable stuff, that it did not seem to him at all unnatural that the whole universe should turn to sugar! But the angel was still there, playing her sweetest, lulling strains, "for they know no rest." And now he sees in the sky, baby, cherub faces, with black eyes, and blue and brown; with sweet, smiling mouths and softest curly hair; they are advancing in troops, and in twos and threes and singly, with bright stars in their foreheads, with tiny trumpets and harps, and pipes and viols in their hands, all playing, boys and girls, their eyes dancing to the music! Now and again he can catch the sound of childish voices. They are coming closer, head after head, peering into the mill from every window, and crowding the doorways. He now sees larger forms and older faces; into the mill they come, close up to the "boiling." All at once there is no longer a roof; it is lifted, and the whole sky is full of these angelic beings, host upon host! The sides are gone! and he is far out on an open plain, where there are flocks of sheep with their shepherds, all looking up into the sky, listening to the |