The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

BIZHVEES 'rur. msr sun rrruae. Hum in nature, in common with Mother Nature, has i s iuuuutab‘e laws. The peo- le who existed beiul'fl the flood were, in heir prim ti unlive , like those of to-day. The cum'enuio.ulity of hi hly civilized so- ciety dues nut mange the eart, but it puts I0 much restraint upon it that not a few ap- Ipear hen-tlt-ss. Tney march throu h life and ti ht its battles like uniforlne' men, trains in a certain school of tactics. This monotony.of character and action is super- ficial in most cases, rather than real, and he who fathoms the eyes of others, who catches the subtile quality of tones and inter rets the flexible mouth that utters them, wil dis~ cover that the whole gamut of human nature exists in those that appear only like certain --~n ._.‘_.A~A musical instruments, made by machinery to . play a few well known tunes. Conventional ' restraint often, no doubt, produces dwarfed and defective human nature. I suppose that if souls could be put under a microscope, the undeveloped rudiments of almost every thing would be discovered. It is more satis- taotory to study the things themselves than ‘ their su gestions ; this we are usually better able to t o amen peo 10 of sim lo and un- trammelled mo es 0 life, w o are not practised in disguises. Their peculiar traits and their general and dominant laws and impulses are exhibited with less reserve than by those who have learned to be always on their guard. Of course there are common- place yeomen as trul as commonplace aris- tocrats and simple life abounds in simple. ten 3. , When a man in Holcroft’s position has ‘3 ided traits, they are apt to have a some- ‘w t full expression; his rug ed nature be- side a tamer one outlines itsel more vividly, ~ 'ust asa mountain-peak is silhouetted against; the hor'zon better than a rounded hill. It probably has been observed that his charac- ‘ter possessed much simplicity and directness. He had neither the force nor ambition to raise him above his circumstances; he was merely decided within the lines of his en- Vironment. Perhaps the current of his life Was all the stronger for being narrow. His motives were neither complex nor vacillat- ing. He had married to keep his home and ‘to continue in the conditions of life dear from association and the strongest prefer- ence, and his heart overflowed with good will and kindness towards Alida because she romised to solve the hard problem of the Future satisfactorily. Apart from? the sym- pathy which her misfortune had evoked, he 'probably could have felt much the same to- wards any other good, sensible woman had she rendered him a similar service. It is true, now that Ali la was in hishome, that she was manifesting agreeable traits which gave him pleasant little surprises. He had not expect- ed that he wouldhave had half so much to L- _A..:..LIA cu launv no vvuuu. .....~- “no, say to her, yet felt it his duty to be sociable in order to cheer her up and mark the line between even a. business marriage and the employment of a domestic. Both his inter- '. eat and. his duty required that he should establish the bonds of strong friendly regard on the basis of perfect equality, and he Would have made efforts similar to those he put forth in behalf of any woman, if she had consented to marry him with Alida’s under- standing. NMV, however, that his suddenly adopted project of securing a. housekeeper ' and helper he. 1 been consul) 1n ted, lze Would find that he wee not dealing with}; business- ,,:L- ..._ MP IN THE FOLD. t: "urn“: Au- Alido {me more than content with the conditions of her life. She said that Hol- croit was not ooiy gagisfied, but also pleased ‘ ,n -l.- A....A,.A_,I .uu! Cl‘Ull‘ "an vvvvvvv J ........... ,, , ‘ with her, and that is all she expected and indeed all that thus far she had wished or hoped. She had many std hours; wounds like hers cannot heal readily in a true 86!)- sitive woman’s heart. While she gninml m cheerfulness apdnconfidence, the terrible ,,,I,! Al, I quvn nu.-.'~_ . and unexpected disaster which had over-| taken her rendered impossible the serenit . of those with whom a“ has gone wel '1 Dread of something, she knew not What, haunted her painfu‘ y, and memory at times . seemed malignantly ervcrse in calling one whom she prayfgl ‘to orget. ‘ ,,_,I IIAI.._..‘L‘_ L2._.I...u.n ‘ Dread 0! sonwuuuf, nuu nuvu Iluu "new, w - haunted her painful , and memory at times i “ Alida,” he said. verv kindly " It, was V feiemcdhmflligmatiy ervcrae in calling one not the thought of your mother that] l ‘" him: :2 myfeitho misfit. ' ltlmt look of ain into your face ” )roug It 1 ex it nor a h onlt olcrofts kindness, She shook or head sadly with d tIlor kwaru (in? tin rest solace, and she o 08. After “ moment, or’two Iowngast 1?)" ch ii) to; I‘ostrength to keep busy. 1 t ,8,“ nppoolingly to him M she twine im sled n t e rs - \ mu ay morning after their ‘ "There is so much that, 1 w' l ‘1" 3 mp y, tinnzr‘i‘ng‘c‘tho fan‘nor ovirlloptland break. got.” 181 could for. an m icon rem some mm W ion he came ' " 1’0 . . . . ‘(tl‘owni :10 l00k0( With a little diamaz at I potiontolwcil‘lihkmlé? 225'"ch know. “8 “‘XSeiED 3:31-32:13kittclggananltlaim: M ed, you Wore never to Maine ,, 10m )er that 0 ”‘3‘ 0" l Aalncam '. She shook her and, nor did she look the whigh some $021121:él‘gfrésgxmifiiglfgffig’; , CHAI’I‘ER XXIII“ A DOME sno STORY WITH A MORAL. abiding which spake"- I ”Ml- BPJ‘UUI “How long have I kept broaktut waiting, or you rather '2" “ What difi'orauce does it nuke? You needed the rest. The breakfut may not be so nice," was her smiling ans“ or. “ No matter. You are nice to let a man off in that way.” Observing the book in her lap he continuqd, “S_o you were reading a |--‘â€"..... a: nu. , She only looked at him kindly and accept- ed the fact. 4‘ -‘ ‘i’ " Jil‘fx'. “ \Vhy don‘t you pitch into _me ‘3" he asked. “ That wouldn’t do any good." '. “ You‘d like to go, I suppose ‘3" “ No, not under the circumstances, unless you wished to. I'm cowardly enough to dread being stared at.” He gave a deep sigh of relief. “ This thing has been troubling me,” he said. “ I feared you would want to go, and if you did, I should feel that you ought to go." ' “ I fear I’m very weak about it, but I ‘ shrink so from meeting strangers. I do thank God for his goodness many times a , day and ask for help. I’m not brave enough to do any more, yet.” l1 His ru ged features became very sombre a as he saic . “ I wish I had as much courage 'His rugged features became very as be 831 “ I wish I had as much as you have." “van-(Isn't understand me,” she began, gently. “No, I suppose not. ”It’s all become a L -_,.I ..A muddlé to met I ligjqus _bu§in_ese. ” 58km looked at him wistfully, as if she wished to say something, but did not ven- ture to do so. He promptly gave a different turn to the conversation by quoting Mrs. Mumpson’a tirade on church Toing the first. Sunday after her arrival. Aida laughed, but not in a wholly mirthgul‘ and. satisfied qu uvu nu .â€" -- uvâ€"â€"J _-VV way. “ There,” he concluded, “ I’m touch- ing on things a little too sacred for you. I respect your feeling and beliefs, for they are honest and I wish I shared in ’em.” Then he suddenly laughed again as he added, “ Mrs. Mumpson said there was too much milking done on Sunday, and it‘s time I was breaking the Fourth Commandment, after her notion.” v- vuvnvu u u -.v- . When st last he came in and threw off his \ water proof cost, the kitchen was in order, and his wife was sitting by the parlor fire with Thomson’s “ Land and the Book” in ,her hand. ' “ Are you fond of reading ?" he asked. ‘ “ Yes, very. ” V “ Well, I am, too, sort of; but I’ve let the years slip by without doing half as much as I ought.” l “ Light your pipe and I’ll read to you if you wish me to.” “ Oh, come, now. I at least believe in ‘Sunday as a. day of rest and 0 need it. Reading aloud is about as luml' a rk as I can do. ‘ \ulu uv. “ But I’m used to it. I read aloud to mother a great dead," and then there passed over her face an ex reeaion of deep pain. “ What is it, lida? Don’t you feel well 2” “ Yes, oh, yes,” she replied, hastily, and her pale face became Prin‘lson. -A.U ..-_-n:.... u l|'-v -“v- _--, "it was anotherwéithbi bf memory recalling the many Sundays she had read to the man who had deceived her. “Shall I read?” she asked. u ANAL" lm mid- verv kindlv. “ It was ofmn might. is well be vimâ€"@1717 this church and re. can ever put in words. Her thought was “ I didn't think that even he was capable of that. What a way of assuring me that he'll be attent with me 1” Then she quiet- ly read or an hour descriptions of the H01 Land that were not too reli ions for Ho - croft's mind and which satisfied her con- science better than much she had read in former days to satisfy a taste more alien to here than that of her husband. , ”L _..-....n, Holcrofl: listened to her correct pronun- ciation and sweet, natural tones with a sort of pleased wonder. At last he suid, “ You must stop now." “ Are {on tired 2” she asked. “ N0. uh you are, or ought to be. Why, Alida, I didn't know on were so well edu- cated. I'm quite a arbarous old fellow compared to you." H [ hnfln‘t thnnuht of that before." She UUIIIPW V“ vv “ I hadn‘t’thought of that before," she said, with 3 Ian l1. “ What a £00 I was, then, to put it into your head i" “ You must be more careful. I never have such thoughts if you didn’t suggest them.” _ “ How did you come to get such‘s good education ‘2” " I wish I had a. better one. Well, I did have good adventa es up to the time I was seventeen. After was old enough I went to sehool quite steadily, but it seems to me that I learned a. little of every thing and not much of any thing. “’hen father died and we lost our property, we had to take to our needles. I suppose I might have ob- ! mined work in a store, or some such place, ibut I couldn’t bear to leave mother alone and I disliked being in public. I certainly didn't know enough to teach, and besides. I was efreid to try.” "m Wllw.“ ~v - “ Well, well: ' you've stumbled into quipg‘gnquh Place at last." r Igl , _-.._L “hunt =6- kn l “IOU quu5u vvvvvvvvvv “ That’s what _I like most about it, but I don't think I stumbled into it. I think I’ve been led and helped. That's what I meant when I said you didn’t understand me,” she added, hesitatiugly. “ It don’t take cour- age for me to go to God. 1 get courage by believing that he cares for me like a. father, as the Bible says. How could I ever have foufnd so kind a. friend and good a. home my- sel ‘2" - l I ‘. ,‘ ”.‘aA §Ull '- “ I’ve been half inclined to believe there’s a Providence in it myselfâ€"more and more so as I get acquainted with you. Your troubles have made you better, Alida ; mine made me worse. I used to be a Christian ; Iain’t any more.” She looked at him smilingly as she asked, “ How do you knowj" I H L- _A__\:,.J JLV V JV“ nuv -- u “ Oh, I know well enough,” he replied, gloomily. “ Don‘t let’s talk about it any more,” and then he led her on to speak simply and naturally about her childhood home and her father and mother. “ \Vell,” he said, heartily, “ I wish your mother was living, for nothin would please me better than to have sum 8. good old lady in the house”. ,, -L- _..:.1 kiln‘,:“' In“: I" Ilil I IIV‘HVI She averted her face as she said, hnskily. “ I think it was better she died before”â€" but she did not finish the sentence. By the time dinner was over, the sun was shining brightly, and he asked her if she would not like to go up the lane to his woodland to see the view. Her pleased look was sufficient answer. “ But are you sure you are strong enough ‘3” he persisted. “ Yes, it will do me good to go out, and I may find some wild flowers." “ I uess you can, a million or two.” By t .e time he was through at the barn she was ready and they started up the lane, .now green with late April grass and enliv- ened with dandelions in which bumble-bees were wallowing. The sun had dried the moisture sufficiently for them to pass on dry-shod, but every thing had the fresh, vernal aspect that follows a warm rain. Spring had advanced with a great bound since the day before. The glazed and glu- tinous cherry buds had expanded with a1 a- matic odors and the white of the blossoms was beginning to show. ,A â€"- -. ...u “ By to-morrow,” said Holcroft, “ the trees will look as if covered with snow. Let me help you,” and he, at his hand under her arm, supporting an aiding her steps up the_steep places. . 1 ALA “1-.....”1 .nn‘p UIIU D your lllwvvus Her lips were parted, the pleased took was in her eyes as they rested on trees and shrubs which lined the half ruinous stone walls on either side. “Everything seems so alive snd‘gladfihis afternoon ,” she remarked. ,. ,L' t- -L t........ ullv v uuu “an. un--â€" “--_- “ Yes," replied the matter-of-fact farmer. “A rain such as we had this morning is like turning the water on a big mill-wheel. It starts all the machinery right up. Now the sun’s out, and that’s the greatest motor ow- er of all. Sun and moisture make the arm 80.” “ Mustn't the ground be enriched' too ‘3” “ Yes, es indeed; I suppose that’s where “29 all fail: But it’s no easy matter to keep a font in good heart. That’s another rea- son why I’m so glad I won't have to sell my stock. A farm run without stock is sure to grow poor ; and if the farm grows oor, the owner does as a matter of cellrse. ut what put enriching the ground into your head? Do you know any thing about farming ‘3" “ No, but I want to learn. “'hen I was girl, father had a garden. He used to take papers aboutjt, and I often read them alou 17---. Y -nmnml‘nn ‘hn a. mu: uuuuu lu uuu ;. Vlwn -v-n. â€"-- -- _-_-,_ r to him evenin s. Now I remember thug used to be muc 1 in them about enriching the ground. Do you take any such paper? i " No. I haven’t much faith in book-farm- n .I’ - q‘ I don’t know,” she ventured. " Seems to me you might get some good ideas out of papers, and your experience would teach on whether they were useful ideas or not. f you’ll take one, I’ll read it to you.” “ 1 will, then, for the pleasure of hearing w you read, if nothing else. That’s something I hadn’t bargained for,” he added, laughing. She answered in the same spirit by say. ing. “ I’ll throw that in and not .call it square et." “ I think I’ve got the best of you,” he chuckled; “ and you know nothing makes a Yankee farmer happier than to get the best of a bargain.” “ I hope you’ll continue to think so. Can I sit down a few moments?” ” Why certainly. How lorgctful I am I Your ta k is too interesting for me to think of any thing else," and he laced her on a flat rock by the side of the ane, while he leaned against the “call. l_ ___».._ L........‘:nn lulu-un- "bun-u", yuv Bees and other "iihisécta were humming around them ; a butterfly fluttered over the .‘o . .-A nrounu unum; a noun-nu...y .....,_V m. v. ,_ “7, fence and alighted on a dandeiion almost at her feet; meadow lurks were whistling their limpid notes in the adjoining fields, while from the trees about the house beneath them came the songs of many birds, blending with the babble of the brook which mn not far away. ‘ “ Oh, how beautiful, how strangely beau- tiful it all is.” ” Yea, when you come to think of it, it is real pretty," he replied. “ It's 5 pity we vet so used to such things that we don t no- tice ’em much. I should feel miserable enough, though, il I couldn’t live in just such a place. I shouldn't wonder if I was a good deal like that robin yonder. I like to be free and enjo the spring weather, but [sup one neither I10 nor I think or know how rpe_it_ell_is.” "1 \Véilibgihflyou and the robin seem park of it,” she said, laughing. H Oh um um,” he ranliad with u. Rum! "$68,. 10.15.51: ngfiaâ€"‘v’éith a gufihw which sent tho robin 011‘ in alarm, " I ain’t beautiful and never was.” uvuu-u u. .._.. â€"v . -- She joined his l¢uéi1tiutmid with a posi t. volitnle nod, “I’m right, than h. The robin isu'bg pretty: bifd, yet-gverybo y likes him." nu , , L- Ln" nu “ E 52813611191me time: Then he has an pipetite equal to mine. But everybody don’t i l 0 me. In liked in this flat, I think I’m genera y dis- town." “ If you went among them more they wouldn't dislike you." “ I don’t want to fie among them." "They know it, an dislike you." “ Would ings, end all that’s the reason they you like to go out to tea~drink~ that ‘2" “ No indeed ; and I don't suppose I’d be received,” she added, sadly. " So much the worse for them, then, blast ’em,” said Holeroft, wrathfully. ‘ “Oh no, I don't feel that way and you . shouldn’t. When they can people ought to be sociable and kind.’ “ Of course I’d do any of my neighbors, except Lemuel Weeks, 9. good turn it It came in my we , but the less I have to do with them the otter l’m satisfied.” “ I’m rested enough to go on now,” said Alida, quietly. They were not long in reaching the edge of the woodland, from which there was an extended pr aspect. For some little time they looked at the Wide landscape in silence. Alida gave it only partial attention, for her mind was very husy‘withnthou‘ghts suggest- __._ LL. lllluu VIC-Du VVIJ wwwa ..â€"-__ V7,, 0 ‘v ed by her husband’s alienation from his neighbors. It would make it easier for her, but the troubled query would arise, “ Is it ri ht or best for him ? His marrying me Will separate him still more," Holcroft‘s face grew sad rather than troubled as he looked at the old meeting- house and not at the landscape. He was sitting near the spot where he spent that long forenoon a few Sundays before, and the train of thought came back again. In his deep distraction he almost forgot the woman near him in memories of the past. His old love and lost faith were inseparable from that little white spire in the distance. 1 AIA__,_L‘_ VIII." IIUIIAV II al-vv or--- ._ -7 Alida stole a glance atv him and thought “ He’s thinking of her,” and she quietly strolled away t_o_ look for wild flowers. . '1- 1 _L 1....4. u I’ Dill v-nn. .- n w “ Yes," thuttered Holerof t, at last, “ I hope Bessie knows. She‘d be the first one to say it was right and best for me, and she’d be glad to know that in securing my own home and comfort I had given a. home to the homeless and sorrowfulâ€"a quiet, good wo~ mm, who worships God as she dic .” -- 1 ~ g- “1 L2- -..::.. “.1”. hnlrl fn- luau, Iv uv I‘VANI-n ~ w-.. v He rose and joined his wife, who held to- wards him a. handful of trailing arbutus, rue anemones, bloodroot and dicentras. “ I didn't know they were so pretty before,” he said with a. smile. - - p u. ,, 1 nauu “lulu u: u nnnnnnn H‘s smile re-assqred her, for it seemed kinder than any she had yet. received, and his tone was very gentle. “ His dead wife will never be my enemy,” she murmured. “ He has made it right with her in his own CHAPTER XXIV. GIVEN mm ow-x WAY. On Monday the absorbing work of the farm was renewed, and every day brought to Holcroft long and exhausting hours of labor. \Vhile he was often taciturn, he 'evidently progressed in cheerfulness and [hope Alida. ‘oonfirmed his good impres- ‘___.... “nnmn‘ nnr‘ :nvfl’ina ' thoughts.” IIVPU. All-“I- -vâ€"V,_,, _ _ sions. His meals were prompt and inviting ; the house was taking on an aspect of neat. ness and order long absent, and his ward- robe was put in as good condition as its rather meagre character permitted. He had positively refused to permit his wife to do any washing and ironing. “ \Ve will see «to...» a... nnvt fun." he said. “ If then you (hum; lllcuslv unw...---_ I positively refused to permit his wife to do any washing and ironing. “ \Ve will see about it next fall," he said. “ If then you are perfectly well and strong, perhaps, but not in the warm weather now coming on.” Then he added, with a little nod, “ I’m finding out how valuable you are, and I'd rather save you than the small sum I have to pay old Mrs. J ohnson.” In this and in other ways he showed kind- ly consideration, but his mind continually reverted to his work and out door plans with the pre-occnpation of one who finds that he can again give his thoughts to something from which they had been most reluctantly withdrawn. Thus Alida was" left alone most of the time. When the dusk of even- ing came, he was too tired to sa much and he retired early that he might 0 fresh for work again when the sun appeared. She had no regrets, for although she kept busy, she was testing and her wounds were healing uu [CBIUUB’ nu annual,“ _..__ __ l _ . was testing and her wounds were healing throufih the long, quiet days. It was the essent a1 calm after the storm. Caring for the dairy and working the butter into firm, sweet, tempting yellow rolls were the 0111 tasks that trou led her a little, but Holcro I; assured her that she was learning these important duties} fagter thap he had elxpect- IHI [val-III unto-vs: vav- -.-..__ __v _ ed fir to. She had several hours a day in which to ply her needle and thus was soon enabled to rAeplenisl‘l hex: scanty wardrobe. .._.........-..1 Uuuusvu w l‘llllvu-u-- -- ..__.___ One morning at breakfast, dshe appeared in another gown, and although its material was calico, she had the appearance to Hol- eroit of being unusually well dressed. He looked pleased, but made no comment. When the cherry blossoms were fully out, an old cracked flower vaseâ€"the only one in the houseâ€"was filled with them, and they were laced in the centre of the dinner table. 0 looked at them and her, then smilingly remarked, “ I shouldn't wonder if you en. joyed those cherry blows m( re than any thin else we have for dinner.” ” want something else, though. My ap- tite almost frightens me.” “ That‘s famous. I needn’t be ashamed of mine, then.” v: nnnnnn One evening, before the week was over, he saw her busy with a rake about the door. Last year’s leaves were still scattered about, with twigs and even small bou hs wrested by the winds from the trees. Io was pro- voked with himself that he had neglected the usual sprin clearing sway of litter and a little irritater that she should have tried to do the work herself. He left the horses at the barn and came forward directly. ” Alida,” he said, gravely, “ there’s no need of your doing such work ; I don’t like to see on do it." “ ell,” ‘she replied, “ I've heard that women in the countr often milk and take care of the chickens.’ “ Yes, but that's very different from this work.‘ I w‘oqlldp’t “lie pooylo to thlnk I ex 1);»;th Euéfi "thing» of {03 yvvvvu nuvu tun-5.- v- 1-. “ It's very easy work." she r ‘rl, smilin - ly, “easier than IWeepin a room, thing something like it. I use to do it at home when l was a girl. I think it does me good to do somethio in the open air.” She was persxsting. but, not in a way thet chafed him. Indeed, as he looked into her appealin eyes and fame flushed with exercise he felt t at it. would be churlieh to say another word. " Well,” he said, laughing, “ it makes you look so young and rosy I guess it do“ do you good. '1' suppose you'll have torhave your own way." J “You know I wouldn't do this 'or thing else if y? really didn’t want me w: ” ’ou om can." he replied, with is good nature entirely restored. “ You can see that you get me rigln under your thumb when you talk that way. But we must both be on our guard against your fault, you know, or many soon you'll be taking the whole war of the {Min oil'my hands." “ To be serious," she resumed, accom- panying him to the barn for the first time, “ I think you are workin ' too hard. I'm not. Our meals are so simp e thet it doesn’t take me long to get than. I’m through with the hurry in my sewing, the old do does the churning and you give me so muc help in the dairy that 1 shall soon have time on my hands. Now, it seems to me that I might soon learn to take entire care of the chickens, big and little, and that would he so much less for you to look after. I’m sure I would enjoy it very much, especially the looking after the little chicken." “ Do you really think you‘d like to do that '2" he asked, as he turned to her from unharnessing the horses. “ Yes, indeed, if you think I'm compe- tent.” “ You are more so than I am. Somehow, little chickens don‘t thrive under a bus man’s care. The mother hens mean well’,' but they are confoundedly silly. I declare to you that last year -I lost half the little chicks that were hatched out_.” ..v “\Vell, then,” she replied laughin , “I won’t be afraid to try, for I think § can beat you in raising chickens. Now, show me how much you feed them at night and how much I’m to give them in the morning, and let me take the whole care of them for a mouth, get the e gs, and all. If they don’t do so well, then ’11 resign. I can’t break you in ‘a rhonth.” -3 Us“): _-l-.‘ n... ‘5“. vu nu .- --.....k “ It looks more as if you’d make me. You have a good big bump of order, and I haven’t any at all in little things. Tom \Vatterly was right. If I had tried to live here alone, things would have got into an awful mess. I feel ashamed of myself that I did’t clear up the yard before, but my whole mind’s been on the main crops.” . u uv.v ...- _ _. “ As it should be. Don’t you worry about the little things. They belong to me. Now show me about the chickens, or they’ll go to roost while we‘re talkiqg." .. u ‘- vv . vvu- . ---- - “But I, as "well as the chickens, shall want some; spppeyz” :- . ",,,)II u Inu- uv..-_ ~_r “ I won’t left either of you starve. You’ll see. " ,, uvv. “ Well, you see this little measure? You fill it from this bin with this mixture. of corn and wheat screenings. That’s the al- lowance, morning and evening. Then you go out to the barn-yard there and call ‘ kip, kip, kip.’ That's the way my wife used”â€" He stopped in a little embarrassment. “ I’d be glad if I could do every thing as she did,” said Alida, gently. “ It has grown clearer every day how hard her loss was to on. If you’ll tell me what she did and ow she did things”â€"â€"and she hesitated. “ That’s good of you, Alida,” he replied, gratefully. Then with his directness of speech he added, “ I believe some women ‘ are inclined to be jealeus even of the dead." a ,,,_ , "Av auv..~v“ -v ‘7 “ You need never fear to speak of your wife to me. I respect and honor your feel- ingsâ€"the way you remember her. There’s no reason why it should be otherwise. I did not a tee to one thing and expect another,” and 5 1e looked him straight in the eyes. He dropped them, as he stood leaning against the bin in the shadowy old barn, and said, “ I didn’t think you or any one would be so sensible. Of course one can’t forgot quickly ’2.â€" a A; n _--__ 4L- (3...... IVIE‘IV \ “IVlI-J v “ Yolu oughtn't to forget,” was the firm reply. “ Why should you? I should be sorry to think you could forget.” “ I fear I’m not. like to make on sorry," he replied, ei hing. “ To te I you the truth,” he adx ed, looking at her almost commiseratiugly, and then he heyitated. ‘I ‘A_L H .l vvuuuauv-wu.~°.d ' “Viv , “ Well, the truth is usually best," she said, quietl . “ Well, I’ll tell you my thought. We married in haste, we were almost strangers, and your mind was so distracted at the time that I couldn't blame you if you forgot whatâ€"what I said. I fearedâ€"well, you are carrying out our agreement so sensibly that I want to thank you. It‘s a relief to find that you‘re not opposed, even in your heart, that I should remember one that I knew as a'little child and married when I was young.” “f relfiember all you said and what I said,” she replied, with the some direct, honest gaze. “ Don’t let such thoughts trouble you any more. You’ve been kinder and more considerate than I ever ex ected. You‘have only to tell p.13 how .she d‘k ’1â€" " No, Alidti’,” he said, quietly, obeying a. subtile im ulsc. “I’d rather yo would do everyth 113 your own wayâ€"â€"as it, natur- al for you. ’lhere, we‘ve talked so long that it’s too late to feed the chickens to- night. You can begin in e mofiing.” Hf“. 1” also nrin: N QI' unn have ('11 c"‘Oh 1” she cried, “ 3% you have r811 your other work to do. I’ve hinder (1 rather than helped you by coming out.” “No,” he replied, decidedly, “ you’ve helped me. I'll be in before veryehng." ._ -_ \ u Furious cyclones and heilstorms swe 9; over a large part of \Vcsterroand Sonta- Western Missouri, Houtthastcr-n Kansas and Northern Arkansas on Thursday night, causing great loss of life and destruction of pro erty. Several towns were entirely de- mo shed. The railws s will have to look to their laurcls. A ew York steamship company is about to build a vessel with an estimated speed sufficient t_o make thgypyngo f_r_om I‘few York to Liver ool in a little more than four days. She w ll have twenty boilers, and the engines will be of 27,886 horne- Wer and capable of giving a speed of 22 note an hour. The Etrurin, which has made the fastest record of 0 «law five hours and 3| minutes, has a horse-power of ”,000. Her time for the passage is about the same as that of the transcontinental express trains, but the latter, of course, have to make many ‘ stops on the road. (T0 m: CONTINUED.) '33 you hive r do. I’ve hinderg‘ll he stood_ )egming