6 W CHANGED. Here the elm tree's shadow Wu zers above the way. Yonder the young sweethrier And the solemn wood. where dq Brouleth in silence1 here The mossy sat—once dear. The clambcring vim: above us Still hang, a perfumed span. A12», how 01‘- together Through tangled paths we ran. 'Cnder the festooned flowers, using the count of the hours! Yonder the pool that wrinkled The silver armored fish—- The mirror the bullfrog shivered As he plunged below-“item? And the lilies. there, inshore, Are imzhmg their feet. as of yore. As of yore til-:- blossoms Spun -lv 1hr Sloplnl: 10a, “11' re laughing z-o-riwmkle Bent]; to the Run her knee. Wm awvflest hour-y hips I’rom coyly opened lzps. As of yore the swallow Gram in h1~ flxxht {Um «I: my); tower. still stately Gl;r.--:h the swan so white: All nature yvt i< true And hunch: l- changed—save you! wReulv-u B. Davenport in New York Ham. Journal. HIS MISSION. Jack Newlyn, who was a barrister of some ”quite. left his home one fine morn- ing, leaving his little wife in her usual state of happiness, returning afew min- utes after 5 to find Her almost as solemn as the great judge in whose presence he had been propoundinq the intricacies of an entangled will suit all the afternoon. “A nythiug wrong, dearest?” he inquired as they sat down to dinner. Mrs. Newlyn gave a start. "Oh, no,” she murmured, “only—only I have had a visit from Miss Blake this afternoon. ’ ' “Who's Miss Blake?" the embryo Q. C. asked carelessly. “Oh, you must have heard of her, Jack. She’s the president of the Modern Woman’s Pionecr Rescue league. ” Mr. Newlyn gasped. “And—and what did she want, a sub- scriptiou?" “I\'-o I’ll tell you. I don't think I ever mentioned it, but before I met you I was a Pioneer. Now, one of the rules of the society orders that when a member becmes engaged or married she forfeits her place. In fact, she is compelled to resign.” Mr. Nowiyn muttered something about a “good job.” “Well, it seems," his wife went on, “that quite a lot of the members have left lately owing to this cause. There's Lucy Johnson, she’s engaged to Mr. Stone, and last week Karo Brown was married, and now there are several more on the point of leaving.” “Quito an epidemic,” the barrister re- marked irrevereutly. “So," his wife continued, with a slight frown, "Miss Blake fears that soon she will be the only one who has remained true to the ship.” “Why doesn’t she got spliced?” Jack asked. “And then the ship would sink.” “She has no desire to get ‘spliced,’ as you call it. She is a woman of firm prin- ciples and she has resolved to devote her life [0 doing good. But to return to what I was saying. As the society has sufi‘ered such losses, she has decided to strike out the rule which declares engaged girls and married women ineligible. and she is now going round to all the old members ask- ing them to rejoin.” The young husband’s facn bore a look of tlu- liveliest consternation. “And," his wife resumed, promised. to do 50.” M r. .\‘wv1yn’s consternation deepened to dirt-st, (liqnay. "But—but what does she want you to do?“ ho asked. “And what are the Pio- net-rs?" “They are a little band of women who are engaged in the noble work of rescuing their unhappy fellow creatures from sin and wickedness. " “But what are they required to do? Not —-not to dive into filthy dens in the east and, visiting housebrcakers?" “.\‘-0, not exactly that. We hold meet- ings for cab drivers, sandwich men and match boys. Social evenings they are, with light refreshment, such as coffee and buns"— “C-o-f—f—e-c u-n-d b-u-n-s," Mr. Newlyn murmured blankly. “Yes, and a little music, and we take them usidc and talk seriously to them and try to bring them to a better frame of mind. It is a nnblo work, Jack. Miss Blake says it is wicked for us to lead a. life of luxury and case when there are thou- sands going ro pcrdition. She says it is woman‘s mission to reform man." “Quue so. " the young barrister respond— ed readily, “and you are fulfilling that mission admirably. " “I“-—— “Yes, you are reforming me." “Oh. you don’t need reforming, dear.” “And cab drivers and sandwich men do?“ “ Yi-s. indeed. " “But, my dear, evening is the only time that l have you. to myself.” “I know," and she sighed. ward. but quite unavoidable.” “And I am to mopc at home by myself whilc you are talking seriously to cabmen and marchbnys?" “Sow, darling, you mustn’t be selfish." “Selfish?" “Yes, you must learn to give up some— thing for your unfortunate fellow men." “Well. what with subscribingtoorphan- ages and homes for destitute children, I give up close on a hundrw a year as it is." “Yes. but that is no proper sacrifice," his little wife said quickly. “You are rich. and £100 doesn't mean any real giv- ing up on your part. You don’t deprive yourself of any pleasure, you know 3’ Mr. Newly—n knitted his brow. His wife's logic was unanswerable. “And if you spared me for three or four evenings a week you would be doing so, and you would know that your dear little wife was perhaps persuading some poor sinner to lead a better life.” “And what am I to do with myself while you are persuading?” “Well, you can read and smoke or go and see your old bachelor friends occasion- 811,." “And so thoudcgghgul Myriam: “I have “It is awk- TIIE VOICE, SATtRDip-i, —-' you usedtoplayand customers-eaten: end?" ‘ I‘m afraid so. They were selfish even- ings. I see it now. We thought of no one'a happiness but our own. Hencefortb, Jack clear, we live for others. Now I must go and dress. Miss Blakecslls for me at 8. There is a meeting of sandwichmen at half past." It was half past 10 when Mrs. Newlyn wine home. She found her husband sit- ting over his cigar and a novel. "Well, how did the meeting go 03?" he asked. “Bpleudldly, splendidly,” his wife cz- clalmed. her charming face azlow with enthusiasm. "Oh, Jack. when I see what a great deal of mini.- work I can accom- plivh I am filled V-‘ith joy. Miss Blake says I shall he of immense use. But tell me, what. have you Lwn domg with your- self while I have been away} ‘ “I? Oh, I dropped in on Harms, one of my old cronies, you know, and very thank- full am I did so." “Very thankful? Why?" "Because. curiuircly enough. I found him dump in a SL‘ln 1m cf rescue work of a trust novel and original kind, and he in- \‘lik‘d me to join the movement. and I have done 50. Our lives now, Ethel, shall be dc\(:tul to this work.“ “Oh. Jack. I am so glad! able: to do such a lot of need." “Well, I hope so, I hope so.” “Now tell me all about it, dear. Iain most anxious to learn in what way Mr Barnes’ scheme differs from ours. What class of people are you going to reform- the scavengers. Ih'.‘ docket-s?" “Oh, no. Those we leave to you laditv. Barnes says that the influence of woman upon man applies to this sort of work just as it does in other ways. and that. the in- flucncc of man upon woman is the sumo." Mrs. Newlyn looked slightly puzzled. "The—inchncc~of~mau~upon—wo- man?" she repeated. “Just so. " “But I don’t understand?” “Why, it's this: way. Our work will be among women. Barmaids"—- “Barmaids?” and her face turned pale. “Bullet girls and nurses. We shall hold meetings—social meetings, with light re- freshment, such as coffee and buns, and we shall take them’ aside and talk serious- ly to them." Mrs. Nowlyn gave a gasp. “Barnes says it is man’s mission." “Man’s mission? Oh, how dare you talk to me of such a thing?” “Eb, what?" “Don’t say a word, not a word. Do you want to insult me? Oh, I wonder how you can come to me with such an infamous prOposal. You must be mud to think I should ever consent to it." “But I consented to you." “That is very different." “I fail to see it. You are taking cabmen aside and talking seriously to them, I am taking ballet girls”— “You sban't. I won’t stand it. Oh, do you want to break my heart?" ”Now, darling, you mustn’t be selfish. You must learn to give up something. We must live for others.” “You sba-shun't Him for bamaids or bullet girls, the horrid things," Mrs. Newlyn sobbcd frorn behind her handker- chief. “But you are living for sandwich men and matchboys.” Mrs. Newlyn bit her lip. “Jack!" she murmured after a pause. “My dear. " “Pro-promise me you won't?" “I can’t. I gave my word to Barnes.” His wife thsted her lacc fringed hand- kerchief in desperation. “I—I'll give up the sandwich men if you will," she murmured at. length. “And the matchboys and cab drivers?” “Ye-cs." “Then on that condition”.— “Oh, you dear fellow." “And we shall go back to the old life?” “Yes. oh, yes." “That's right," and be bent his head and kissed her. “Newlyu,” said his friend Barnes as they sat at lunch the following day, “you’re a genius. The idea was splendid, only I’m afraid you’ve ruined my charac- ter with your wife." “Oh, I’ll make it all right,” the young barrister rejoined. “I’ll tell her you’ve given up one scheme.” And then they look- ed at each other and laughcd boisterously, as if at some hidden jnkc.——:‘t. Paul’s. A GREAT DISCOVERY. “Wanted—A gentleman possessing vai- unble secret desires to meet party of means possessing some astronomical knowledge and willing to spend $5,000 in carrying out a. new and valuable experi- ment. Address Murray, care Clark d: 00., baukc s, from 9 a. m. to 12 in.” As I ate my breakfast I found I was mentally comparing myself with the qual- lflcntions in The Times, and with the gratifying (?) result that I found I filled the description. Gratifying? Yes, very. Here I was, an even 30 years old, with an abundance of wealth and a direful dearth of means of unmet-merit. Do you wonder, then, that tlzi= strange advertisement should have a fascination for me? As I wended my way to the cflflce of Clark & Co. thoughts of possible gold bricks and buncombc games flittcd idly through my head, but I was endowed with a liberal supply of egotism, and I hardly gave them consideration. As I inquired of a. clerk at Clark& Co. '5 for Murray I fancied I detected a fleeting smile of curicfity cross his face, but I was quietly ushered into an inner office, where I found myself confronted by a finely built young man of about 35, who cordially ex- tended his band as he read my card. Mr. Hoffman, I am pleased to moetyou, for I have known you long by reputation. Bo seated, My name is Murray, Mr. Hellman—Gordon Murray—and I pre- sume you desired to see me regarding my advertisement in The Times?" I assented. “I thought as much. But first, Mr. Hoffman, I presume you are willing to sink $5,000 in an experiment that will not yield any cash dividends? Good! Mr. Hoffman, before we proceed further I must enjoin on you a promiscof the strict- est confidence in case you decide against me. If you decide for me my secret be comes yours. and your discretion must be You will be f — .- ycur dictator. " “Mr. Murray, you have my word of honor as a gentlemen," I replied. “Thank you, Mr. Badman. I am a phy- sician of moderate practice and more mod- erate income and with a strong inclina- ticn for the study of astronomy and chew istry. In my study of the former I have bad a great and pervading desire to inves- tigate the sun, and toward that end all my energies have been directed, with there- sult that I have discovered a chemical preparation which, inserted between the glasses of an ordinary astronomical tele- scope, will increase its power more than ten times and. at the same time will so neutralize the brilllaucy of the sun's rays as to make it perfectly easy to search the surface of the planes. "Now, Mr. Hoffman, this appears asa wild and fantastical assertion, but I know this from experience with a small hand telescope, and I am only prevented from putting my theory more strongly to the test by lack of funds to obtain such an ln~ comment as I wish, and it is for this [do sire to meet a man willing to fund the ex- periment. " For several minutes after Dr. Murray ceased speaking I sat astounded at the boldness of the assertion and yet con- vinced that the man before me spoke the truth. I looked again, rather anxiouslyhl will admit, at the dark, thoughtful face to see if I could detect any signs of insanity. Far from it. Never was there a more 53119 looking individual. Absurd as the idea ap- peared, yet it fascinated me, and tfic more I thought: the more enthusiastic I became. “ Well, Mr. Hoffman, do you consider me a fool or a crack or both?" I started at the words, to find Dr. Mur- ray gazing at me with a quiet look of amusement in his eyes. “Neither, doctor, neither. But I pro. some you are prepared tofurnish me some proof of your sincerity?” I queried. “Certainly, sir. Would Mr. Clark of this firm suffice?” “His word would be satisfactory," I re- plied. “Tben, Mr. Hoffman, I beg to refer you to him. And, pardon me, but when may I expect an answer? I should desire to settle the matter at an early date, so that the apparatus could be ready by the 22d of , on which day, you know, the sun makes its nearest approach to the earth.” “You may have my answer in ten min- utes if Mr. Clark is in,” I replied. “He is at present in his private office. Allow me to show you the way. Mr. Clark, may I present Mr. Hofl’man, who desires to question you regarding myself? Mr. Hoflman, I will await you in the out— er office. ” And Dr. Murray‘sllently left me with Mr. Clark. “Mr. Clark,” I began, “banner—er— you—ar—undouhtedly know something of the nature of my business with Dr. Mur- ray' 7! “I do, Mr. Hoffman." "Do you consider Dr. Murray honest in his character and convictions?" I asked. “Mr. Hofimau, I have known Dr. Mur- ray all his life, and I consider him a man above board in his character and views.” "Thank you, Mr. Clark. I believe that is all I care to know.” And I bowed my- self from the office, to find myself face to face with Dr. Murray, who was nervously pacing the outer office. As I approached he gazed anxiously into my face. “Dr. Murray,” I said, “while our scheme appears very chimerloal, yet am disposed to believe in it. What do you propose to do?” “To obtain as large a telescope as prac- tical and have the necessary changes made In it, then take it to ‘R—v— and set it up ready for the 22d,” he answered. “Can such an instrument as you desire be obtained soon enough?” I asked. “I knowof an excellent instrument that can be purchased for $3,000, and the neces- sary changes can be made in about a week.” “Then. doctor, I am prepared to back the enterprise. I will arrange with my bankers, Hicks, Baker 8: Ca, to honor your drafts to the extent of $5,000, and .1 will see you tomorrow. Where?” "At my office, if you please, 1736 Le..- ington avenue. " “Good day, doctor.” And I found my- lelf in the street, wondering whether I was a chump, an ass, or both. o o o t O O 0 The time passed rapidly until the 22d. and it seemed once as though our instru- ment would not be placed at R—— on the desired day, so many unforeseen difficul- ties arose to delay us. But Dr. Murray was as energetic as he was enthusiastic, and the night of the Blst found us installed on the top floor of the Bow] Irving and the instrument placed in a temporary observatory erected on the roof. Dr. Murray and I had small interest in anything else. We were thinking with all our energies of the experiment tomorrow and its result. What would it be? But tomorrow became today, and slowly the forenoon dragged itself through until it lacked but. 15 minutes of the appointed time to begin our experiment. And what would we learn if Murray's discovery were right? What wonders would that great golden orb yield to our inquisitive eyes? Somehow I felt strangely oppressed as I paced up and down the hull outside our rooms, as with some impending cvil. ant; to quiet my nervcsI livhted another cigar As I did so Murray came up to me, and l was startled to note how strangely pale lie was. but before I could speak he Stopped me with a gesture. “Hofi’rnan,” be said, “we are all ready now to put my discovery to the test. What it will prove I cannot say, but I feel ma: something swange and terrible is about I « happen. I don’t doubt that the telescope will work, that my discovery will prove successful, but I am certain that what it will reveal will be far beyond our im- agination.” “Bot, doctor, you cer"-- I interrupted. “So, no. Hofl‘man, let us no: call; about it. Let us goaud see. But firs: I premier-d that on the day we made this experizzzen: I would reveal the formula of my discov- ery, and I will do so now.” “Never mind that now. due. Wait till we see if it works. I. r us go up to :i.¢ cE~ servatorv," and I l i the way up ti." stairs Murray quickly following. As we stepped on the roof I glanced at my watch. It lacked but live minutei, and I strolled over to the 2 iff-K: ape and Leg-m carefully exazuiuin: ”I: :‘djustmcnts to: a: least the hundred” '.u\‘. SEPTEMBER 18, 1897. r As I did so I was startled by the loud slang of the fire alarm and cries of “Fire! Fire!" in the street below. I turned toward Murray, but he was hurrying toward the edge of the roof fac~ lag the saws, and I Started tofolicw, only to be stopped before Icould take half a dozen steps by Mum . who had been leaning over the edge the roof, and now turned to me with blanched face and ex- claimed: “Good heavens, Hoflmau. it is the ho- tel, and it is one mass of flames." He turned again to the street, and as lw did so a cry of horror escaped my lips, for in his excitement he leaned further out than be thought, and as I made a wild. foolhardy reach for him be plunged head- long into the street below. I leaned, horror struck, over the roof and gazed into the street. only to be con~ fronted by a seething mass of flames and great, cddying clouds of smoke, which seemed to pour from every window in the building, while from the opposite side of the street I could see men excitedly run- ning to a spot directly beneath where I stood. Then the peril of my position burst more fully upon mo and I ran for the stairway. As I passed the telescope an uncontroll- abi: desire to take one look at the sun, now almost overhead, possessed me, and I turned back. It was but the work of an instant to ad- just tbo lenses and turn the instrument on that great golden orb. Then I pressed my eye to the tube, only to pinch myself to make sure I was awake. At once all thought of fire and the ow- ful fate of Murray left my mind. I could see nothing, know nothing but the scene spread before my eye. The scene on the glass seemed divided into two parts, one dark, cold and forbid- ding, the other bright, sparkling, blind- ing. As my eye became more accustomed to the glass I could see that the two parts of the picture were divided by a broad stream of water that flowed with‘a swift, raging current, and the scene on the right, which had appeared to glow with the brilliance of raging flames, was a city of magnificent size surrounded by a gigantic wall, and the material of which the wall and buildings were constructed glowed with a phosphorescent quality equal to millions of incandescent lamps. The scene on the left was broad and bare, only wide, rough plains of jagged, cumbersome rocks and dark, dcép fissures, backed with mighty mountain peaks, standing brown and ugly in the clear at- mosphero. As I studied tho surface more closely I discovered an object moving rapidly to— ward the river. Eagerly, feverishly, I screwed up the adjustments until the figure of a man stood out plainly. Carefully I examined him, than rubbed my forehead in bewilderment. Was I crazed? Had I gone stark mad? Horrors! I sprang from the instrument in terror and fell unconscious to the floor. I I O O I I . They tell me I lay in a wild delirium of brain fever for weeks, but all I know is that when I came to myself I Was in the R hospital, too weak almost to speak, with a gentle, white capped nurse at my side. I tried to speak, but she stopped me with a gesture, and I dropped off to sleep. When I awoke again, I asked: “The hotel? Murray"— “TJJore, be quiet, Mr. Eofiman; do not excite yourself. The hotel was entirely destroyed, and you were saved by 21 mir- acle almost," the nurse answered. “But Murray? He—he—ls dead?” I stammered. The nurse nodded her head in assent. For weeks after I lay weakly struggling between life and death, but I at last he— gun to rally, and then I asked how I had been saved and to see my preset-var. He was a strapping young man of 26, who seemed ashamed of having been guil- ty of a heroic deed. When I asked about the telescope, he looked surprised and answered: “Why, you see, that is what knocked you silly, sir. Just as I stepped on the roof you gave a cry and jumped from your seat by the telescope and heaved over on the roof with the old concern on top of you-n For a minute I thought, then asked: “You say I gave a cry, Gibbons? Did I say anything you could hear?" "Sure. air. I heard it all. Your few was aawvblte. as a ghost and you gasped out, “My God, it’s (calm—Troy Times. ' A LOOK INTO THE GULF. (looked one night. and there Semiramis, With all her mourning doves about her- head, Sat rosklng on an ancient road of hell. Witnered and eyeless, chanting to the moon Snatches of song they 921113 to her of old Upon the lighted roofs of Nineveh, And then her voice rang out with rattling laugh: “The llugles they are crying back again— Bngles that broke the nights of Babylon And then went crying on through Nineveh! Stand back, ye trembling messengers of illl I rush out with my hair unbound to quell Insurgent cities! Let the iron tread Of armies shake the mirth. Look, lofty towers! Assyria goes by upon the wind!" And so she bubbles by the ancient road, Winnie cmes turned to dust upon the earth Elise through her whirling brain to live again— F-xnliles all night. and. when her voice is dead. Ber weary lips beat on without a sound. —Charles Edwin Markham in Scribner‘u ON A PRAIRIE. Ah, yes, de lak' sparkle an look ’appy son de sun, but (let water 6011’ know. eat dou' uu’erstan. I tell you ’cw dc story ’appen. One day Philippe, my 'usban, say at me, ”Josephine, tak’ de egg an de butter on sell dem on do Anglismen dot live roun‘ de lak’.” Dose men com’ off Angina an fink. day mak’ dc farm, but dey shoot an flab an , drive on do prairie an let deir crop grow ‘ as ’e please. My 'ouse was see: mile on, an dare was de lon"drive roun’ do lak’. W'eu I com near dees plus, I see one tent. an I tick I fln’ som’ Injun. But prayscnly I see on de grass one w’ite wo- man. an she ’af de 101er face, an dc long hair fall roun’ ’er an shine can do sun. W’en she ’ear do wagon, she sit up an look at me. Den she loan by one tree an «2.7mm l I thump from my wagon an say, “W’at ees dc trobl' of you?“ Den she cry: “I so glad, so glad for see you. I t‘ink I never see one woman som' more. It‘luk my 'eart brak‘ w’en I lie ‘ere all do day so lou'scm‘." I look roun"an I‘say: “W'ero cos some— body? W‘y dey lano you so lon'som'?“ Den she say, "My ’ust go way for shoot an for fish all day, an 'e (1011' uu'cr- scan dot I‘ll be frighten an lon’som'." Aftcrw’ilc she tell me do story of ‘crsev. She did live on Anginud \vid fadcr, mod~ der, sister, brcddcr, an many people com' ecu dclr ’cmc. Blmeby she promise for marry wid one young man, an firs' ’0 com' on Canada wid 'ccmcov, an '0 write many letter of do loi’cly prairie an 'ow she be 'uppy in dis plus wid ’cem. Den ’e com’ back on Anglaud an marry wid 'er, an 5110 leave ‘er people. She miss dam, but she try for be 'appy wid ’eom. W'eu dey arrife on Canada an go by do city an dc towu on do farm, sbc t’iuk she lira de co‘ntry. But dey com’ farun more far an go t’rcuglq de prairie w‘erc dcrc‘a no tree, no water, so her eye grow tirc’. After w'llc dere’s no more train, no more car, an dcy drive ecu dc wagon far an more far, on she see no 'ouse, no people. Don ‘er ’cart feel lon'scm', but she try for seem ’appy. At 135' dey urrifo by dis plas', an she see com' tree an dc lctely lak', but derc‘s no ’ouao, derc’s nodding but do tent, an one man stun near by an smoke. Den ’cr ’us‘uan say, “We stop ’ero.” Sho say, “W’erc ees do ’ouse?” ’E say: “But tent ees my 'ouse, an you ’ave no trobl’ for 'ousckcep. Sometime Tum, (lat man. ’olp you w‘on 'e’s not busy.” She say, “W‘ere one do woman for 'elp meY’I ‘E say: "No woman live near dis plas'. Dose lady-(lat com’ from Anglnnd an live on (is prairie be glad for work an ’elp dcir ’usban.” She spik not, but go can do tent. Dat tent was dirty, so dirty, bacos dc man, Tom, don’ trobl’ for wash t’lngs, on do pot and pan, do blanket an do coat, lie all rouu. She was tire, for day drive far; she was 001, for de fros' was yet can do groun; she was hongry, but she know she out not w'en t’ings look like dat. So do tear com’ can '9: eye. Dat mak' 'er ’usban angry. an ’e say: "I never t‘ink you was dat kin of woman. Odder men 'uf do bravo wife dat ’clp dcm." Den she sit on do groun an cry like ’cr 'eart bruk’. Den ’0 grow more angry on go way off on do prairie. De man, Tom, feel sorry,.an '9 ask ’cr as! she not know she mus’ live eon one tent. An she say she never know (lat. She t’ink she live can one ’ouso w’ere odder people live near. Den Tom mak’ do fire, on fry do pork an do potates, an mak’ some tea, on '0 say, “You feel better w'en you eat som- ding.” Shc try for eat, but do pork was fat, on do potates swim ecu dc grease, so she t’ank eem, but say she feel too seek for cat. But she drink do tea an feel better. Do nex’ day she ache all over. She eat nodding, she walk not, for do groun eon damp, de tout cos damp. An'at dc flrs' ’er ’uaban cos sorry, but bimcby ’o grow tire for tuk' care of ‘cr, an '8 say, “Dcre’s no good ecu-life set one man mus' stay by do tent all day.” An w’en she grow not strong 'e leave '8: day by day alone wid ’ersev. Before I go from ‘er (181: day I cook for 'er do poash egg an do toas’, an she eat like she be starve, an she say, “Dat cos like doy cook by my ’omc.“ After dat I drive ’roun do lak’ an arrife on do little cottazho w’cro live dc t’ree Angllsmcn. An I Spik wid one of dam abou’ dat woman, an ’8 say, “’Er ’usban 866 one selfish brute. " I like dat Augiisman, an I t’ink, “ W’y she not sac _ you before she marry wid eem?" For dat man was no ’andsomo, so brav’ an so strong. After (int 1 drive every day by ’cr tent an wash de t’ings an cook suimiing (lat she may out. An she grow more strong, an bimeby she laugh an say she don' feel so lon’som’. After w’ile deir ’ouso arrife. Een dc prairie, w'ere dere‘s not wood for buil’ do ’ousc, dey boy do ’ousc son de city, an ’e arrifc all pack up, ready for put togeddcr. Do big Anglismun dat I llk’ com’ ’roun do oddcr side of do luk’. an ’e ’elp ’or w’on she put dc furnlzhur can do ’nuse, an w’eu lbs laugh an seem please ’0 watch ’er, an do eye of com grow sof’, an do sigh com’ from oea ’eart. But she don’ know dnt. Many time '6 com' an ’8 read for 'er an sing for ‘01-, an somtime dcy sing torjed- der. An do color com' een or check, an she look 'appy, an ’e smile wid do sweet smile, an I t'lnk: “Ah, you would be de kin' ’usbund. You would be strong, you would be zbentii. But dnt see too late now." One day w’en I arrife she look w’ite and smuzh. An after w'ile she put ’er arm roun’ me an cry: "0b, Josepha, Josepha, I never t'ink dare was any wrong w’en '0 com’ for see ma, an I tol’ my ’usban every time ’8 com’ an ’e never any I do wrong for slug wid com an read-wld com. But lac' night w’sn my ’usban’ arrife from do villazhe, ’9 say dat de peopl' dare gosseep becos dc Angllsman com’ by dis ’ouse so many time, an my ’usban say, “W’en (in: man arrife ’ere, you tell ’eem ’a never darken dis door again." Den she lay ’er 'ead by me an spilt no more word, but I feel dc meesairy can my ’cart for ’21-. Bimeby she say: "Josepha, I want my modder. Eef my maddest was by me an I split wid ’er, 86$ ’clp me bar all dat.” Praysonly I so do Angllsman com' up from de lak'. Den day spik togeddar. an de face of can: grow w’lte, on de black com’ ecu cos eye, an dc voice of com trem'l’, but I know not 17'“ ’13 say. Praysonly the say: “Goodby, goodby forever. I t'ank you from my ’ear: for all you ’af done. I know you are good. I know you are noble. I pray you may be ’appy." I ’05:: not do word ’0 say, but de face of com look like do face of do dead. Den he go fast away by de lak, on she keep ’cr eye on dat little canoe dat marry eem over de ink, for she know ’6 com’ back no more. Do nbx’ day I go by dc ccttuzhe of do Angliaman for sell my egg and butter. an dose odder two men tell me can ’e leave. dam an go far, far away. who. 0‘..- _.dn an. “0‘ ~54. u— .- ~