Pittston Gazette

              mfe*— liSpl*- UraqflB w^xluMno?»1l \ Olfcst Ntvsfxer ii tin Wwmiig Ulhy. PITTSTON, LUZERNE C1K% PA,, F DAY* DECEMBER A WMty llttl Ml FMMtf JWMl, T* M» n4 t «ing tW kjiua uT the mwiwnd, who Ml tak the Katie uf lil*— hyn»n i4 tin' «C«uM, IW beat*-®. who | iN overwhelm**! in ikiD strife; ■Not th«- juUlant ut the rWurs. for whom j the resounding aeekuiu J Of Mbun." wmi lifted iii i-lwiw, whuse brows wore Uw chaplet uf fa»tD— « Bat tb« hjrnin of Uw low and the humble, Uw weary and broken iD» h.-art, v Who strove and who fitiktl, acting branljr k silent and desperate put; Whose youth bum no flower on its branches, whiiew hopes burned In ashes away. Prom whose hands slippnl the prise thoy hud grasped at, who stood at the dy in* at day. With tbe work of their life all around them, unpititxi, unheeded, alono, With death sw-oping down o'er their hllnn, and all but their faith overthrown. rail Go on took to th» howt w* »4 rati ew^." It hm of tkw* supplicating visits should happen to be near the neon hoar, the oM fellow Troakl slyly hint thai he didn't (Ml very well either, and that a hit® to eat woo Id help him mightily. "1 nekonttwt tuu .e dosoaad strange to Mb that donl »ikK«Mmw) it, and I'll tell yon exactly how It come about: A long time ago, when me and wife was movin oat hew, our how—the one we had—drapped 0ow» in the road and died. Laws amuse;■, how we waa troubled, for we didn't know what to do, not bavin hut a tew dimes, and wa know'd that thar vnut no use in tryin to go on without a bom, as we oouldnt £*» nothin arter we got thar toward raisin a crap While we waa standin thar, mournin, along come a carriage, and right oloso to it come a man on a hoes. The carriage waa as bright as a new dollar, and the man looked like a governor. Waal, when they got to whar we was, they stopped, and th* man asked, 'What's the matter with yo boss?' 'Nothin's the matter with hii now, suh,' I said. 'He might have bo powerful sick a few minits ago, b he's dead now.' 'Is that the only h you've got?' he asked. 'Yes,' said "Have you em bw« to school?" he naked. "Why, far. Andmva," the gm ev claimed, "yon we Qingin \\m mm the ground!" "1 warm " 8hete»dt*4f hwt hnnnet and Mat awiagiiHt it hy the string* littt htual tha| thu wkuW uLa li ailvMkhiil k Wftnti lui |ku| • '*W Wltl "Wtl"1l WW vvV^MH C*riat died fa vain. 1**1 t*dd the er to fadteve en the U*d Jhwna CVfat and fa* baptised, and ha showld faD saved. Vw believe oa Mm and have fawn hap tiaad, Now what stronger proof do y«m want? Ifat yon Mill cling to the Man that a certain namhar are to ha saved and « certain number to ha fat Waal, let ua say that * eevtaia namhar are In he lust and that the certain number are the onea that tefuae to believe " "Pan, 1 reckon you are right, fail ■till I reel mighty bad." "Of course you do, and it ia mainly because yo' time for fealin that way has come and yon don't want to diaapp'lnt yo'aelf by feelin any other way." "Now, pap," she whined, "yon }est kncV that a body wants to feel as well as theyoan. But 1 do know that people have oauae to think hard at me, and that makes me feel bad, for one thing. I try my best, though, and still I cant get 'em nothin fltten to eat when they come hftre." THE BICYCLE WILL DO "Not much," she tmWWi "1 8uw*we yon'd like to goD" "Yea, but ItV moat too fate now, 1 was at school one day, me and little Have, and a man rode up to the schoolhouse and shot the teacher ami killed him. That was a long time ago, and thar hasn't been any school thar sence. The teacher had whipped a boy, and that was the reason the man killed him." hCv th* pw* dortgo aw," * YCM» ww twwr »H I ww n*4 exactly, C«) 1 WtMt J»P **Hwhvn he \V«CMt '\V*y WW UM the ivIIut *i«hD t*f the ridge %*» vote, *nd we ml dinner with * uuui Mwl Mw4 thar, and jeat hefuiv we atarttfd hum* we saw noiuo iu*« gvt tutu * fight and oue uf th»»» wan out nearly *11 to piece* with a knife. 1 reckou they do wiutmi than that in a regular town whar they v«Dui all the time. Pap **7" that he wouldn't live in a town aud he haa been thar, but he kuowa that aonie of the people that live thar we good and kind, for the jedge and hia wife that give pap and mother the hoaa moat have lived in town, hot Little Dave say8 that he het he didn't, hot Little Dave is mighty briggity sometimes. I must go on after the oowa." *"I «i»i «k»iu jtothin U*D •ort." Wnto XittW wpliwl. "1 nvko*  Itowbk* is yo« «r«v ran** *Dy«V" MORE Mia. Bradshaw's other fear was that people who visited her house might go away and "norate it around" that they didnt get enough to eat while there, and she had been known to slip out at night and kill a chicken to keep down the possibility of slander. The old man often said that nothing on the place was safe, not even a ritting goose, whenever anybody chanced to "drop in." Once, when she was delirious with fever, her husband awoke at night and found that she was gone He heard a chicken squawl, and then ho found her in the heniiouse, reaching up and tugging at the feet of an old Shanghai rooster. "Gh, you o«|*h» to bo ashamed of yoVlf. Little lis vol" aho cried. "That ain't uo way to talk a boot oomutoy, and if you don't mindI'll. toll pap whoa ho coram hack. Dun't pay no attention to hint, Mr. Andrews, for ho don't mean what he says." " Wonld yon como to me If I should takonpa aohool?" FOR WOMEN THAN MEDICINE. "If pap saya so, I wonld, bnt I'm afraid that me and Little Dave ooaldn't go until we git through hoein tho oorn." "Yes; I do too." "Now, Little Dave, yon jest know yon don't." While the voire of the world shouts its chorus, its ptear for those who havu won; While the trumpet is sounding triumphant. and h h to the breese and the nun Gay bazme.-r are waving, hands clapping, and hurt? -Dg feet. Throwing after the laurel crowned victors—I stand on tiC-C Ml uf defeat. In the shadow, 'mong those who are fallen and , wounded and dying—and there Chant a requiem low, place my hand on their pain knotted brows, breathe a prayer. Hold the hand that is helpless, and whisper, "They only the victory win Who have fought the good fight and have WlD quished the demon that tempts us within; Who have held to their faith unseduced by the prise that the world holds on high; Who have dared for a high cauiBe to suffer, re Hist, fight—it need be, to dls." "Do ycm have to hoe oorn?" "C!omo on, now, we've got enough," said Miss Madam. "I can string 'em without anybody helpin me." "Do too." "Yea; when it's in the grass much, I d . Pap wouldn't make me, bnt I hate to see him and Little Dave ont in the field all by theniselves." "Won't you let me help you?" Andrews asked. Bat Thorn Who Are Si* Moat Not Bide—A Delicate Subject, Bat Why Should the Troth Not Be Told ? * t With regard to D cheerfully  though he was oo' there arose grave . had so ..ok, even jnd cardial, .oions, and those "No," said the cripple. "I am goin to help her." "I will go with you." I am goin with her," said Little Dave, coming out of the bushes. 'and I ain't got him now, and the L only knows how I'm goin to mak* crap' Jest then the sweetest face I e* seen—the face of a woman—showed a the winder of the carriage. The dogwood blossoms and the red bad bloom *had givt hfer their oolar, and the dewdrape from tbe grapevines had fell in her eyes. When she seen my wife a-standin thar a-cryin, she asked, 'And is that really the only boss you had?' "But I should think that you'd rather stay at the house and help your mother." Andrews, disgusted with the boy, lighted a pipe and lay down under a "Why, how come you here?" ahe "I would sometimes." cried "Madam," said Andrews, "It la now time tor me to apeak. "80 king as your fears are 0011 fined to yoor soul I am compelled to remain silent; bat when yon include your cookery I mast lift my Toioe in its defense, for, so far as I am concerned, there is not a hotel in the country that oan prepare a meal as appetiaingly as yon da " "But I Jest know this chicken ain't fried right," she persisted, still feeling about far a basis of despondency. • "A saint that had served half his life in a kitchen conldn't fry it better," Andrews declared. . fetalvwirdi, "norate it around," seemed to whisper themselves into the woman's mind during tbe meal, but after dinner, when they sat fa the "big room," talking with pleasant freedom, she wondered how so good natured a man could possibly "slander a body." "I have had yo' hoss put up and fed," the old man remarked when the visitor, slightly loaning back, looked toward the fence. "I didn't reckon you wanted to go any farther this evenin." "Why not at all times?" She turned and looked about, and, seeing her mother standing at the yard gate, looking down the lonely road, resumed her work without answering, but after a few momenta she said: "Mother cries so much sometimes that I can't bear to see her. She's afraid the Lord don't love her, but I know he does, and pap knows it too. Yonder comes pap and Little Davie." "How come you here?" he asked. "Why, I jest come, that's alL" "Waal, I jeet come, too, but that I'n't all" A Plain Talk, Backed Up by Facts, Showing a Sensible Way Out of the Speak, history 1 Who are life's victorsT Unroll thy lung annals and say Are they those whom the world called the viotors who won the success of a dayf The martyrs or NoroT The Spartans who fell at Thermopylae's tryst. Or the Persians and XerxesT His judges or Boc rates! Pilate or Christ? —W. W. Story. "I didn't tell you to help me drive up ihe cows." Difficulty Which Every Afflicted Women Should Read. "You didn't tell him, nuther." "But he can go if he wants to, can't he, Mr. Smarty?" " 'Yea, mam,' my wife answered, wringin her hands. : (From the Bra. Bradford, Pa.) mom wotm than before. I «u D. to my bed for three months end war hrtely unable to a tend to m y ' duties. I oould hudl; fee' week bed I become ;i bet' npon day end night end t wreck. There «« very about ay ultimate reoovery bope that the doctor could 1 wee that I might be abk I again and attend to • after remaining In longer. But instead grew steadily worse. _ to read In the paper  Pink Pllla for Pale People a. _ give them a trial. 'Immediately lng them end-before I had need I saw a marked change ~ my condition. All thii waa confined to my bed lng the medicine until 1 toxee, and by that time ibout and around again. .nent has been eteady ever , had be« n weak, but am growng strung for many 55 * nature, aided by Dr. KMillams'i „ ored for the ail- Pink Pllta, will let me. I have great fa»'" time—in fact, nearlv all «®eee pills and shall use them herea never received anything who felt real temporary relief. During the »eBpring,took them and "*s her condition grew worse nw? 0 him. I have aim M by an affection of the 'or d!^?bter' nineteen - poor that she h*" toonCl 'nam very beneficial Perform her incidental to her sex. Sofaperform her ooncerneJ, 1 consider proprietary medi- 0016" * "but one day Mrs. Gates haa lived it a newspaper many years and Is highly effected by Dr. statement she makee 5s 11 decided to try qnleeced in by her friends jad taken the con- 'noe* to feel better. The The foregoing are but two of many bad bothered derful cures lhat have been credited to to disappear, Williams's Pink Pllla for Pale People _ it once became neaes which heretofore have been suppjied to be incurable, succumb to this '—-* I am ful medicine aa readily aa the moet several ailmenta. In many oeeee the in the cures have bean lnveetigated by lng newspapers, and verified in - oe able to ride her slble manner, and in no case haa the without danger to her semblance of (Med been discovered. 'mpoesible be- fame 1mm sptsm! to the far ends of tlon and there la hardly tMa country or abroad INTEREST TO COUnd. Dr. Williams's Pink Pllla for Pale People are oonaideied an unfailing specific for such dfaeassa as looomotor ataxia, partial muoh talk throughout paralysis, St. Vitus'dance, sciatica, donoerning Mrs. -Martha ralgla, rheumatism, nervoua headache Broome oounty, N. Y., after effects of la grippe, palpitation oi reporter of the Bingham heart, pale and aaL ow complexions, interviewed her for publi- tired feeling resulting from nervous pros will interest (ration; all diseases resulting from vitiatea humors In the blood, such ae scrofula, Cortland chronic erysipelae, etc. They are " — . ago. I specific for troubles peculiar to wentyone years and suoh aa suppreeeion, irregularities, Ht children. About forme of wnaliw— In men they effect afflicted with troubles radical cure in all caaes arising from ae -mi aex and suffered agonia- tal worry, overwork, or exoeeeee of what rhe trouble continued to grow ever nature Dr. Williama's Pink Pills an - «t winter I waa compelled to sold by all dealers, or will be eent postpaid t called in a regular pby- on receipt of price, 60 oents a box or six - did not seem to boxea for $2.50 (ibey are never eoid in bula : "'me for or by the 100), by addreaaing Dr. Wll be- llama's Medicine Co., Schenectady, THTBBUT. " 'And yon say yon can't make • arap?' "Yes, and I can go, too, whuther he wants me to or not.'' "Oh, you think yon are so smart" Too few people ere acquainted with the rapid advance of medi al aotenoe, and too many doctors are still plodding the old paths. Oooe it oomea to peae that people know themselvec, that all physlolans are abreast ot the world'* knowledge, mneh of onr sn£Eering will eome to an end. Medical scientists are not delving into the depths cf knowledge for the mere benefit of brother physicians, bnt for the benefit of the world. They place in the hands of the well flDM • means of keeping well, in the hands of the sick a means of recovery To the parent they give the power ot saving the child. Science is working for yon—will yon aooept the proffered help ? Mrs George Rowend. an estimable lady who resides at No. 276 Seat Main etn t, Bradford, Pa., has oatCse to feel grateful towards the science of medloine. One day recently, a reporter, learning thst Mrs Rowend had been gre*tly benefited by the nse of a new medicine, inter▼iewtd her. She stated that she'— ' suffering with a female trouble years. She had been doc ored tnent for a long her life—and had — ibw_, ttowebok? IWJ mytelf • *d tc bt *iilH »m pLykki. qra\t doc It*. ■1 Tbb «w. hold oat to ma , to get around my household dntlre bed a few month* of Retting better I One day I happened -* Dr. WUliama'a and decided to " iter tak aalf a box for the better In time, however, I I oontinned takhad naed four was able to be The improvesince. I am "Come out under the trees, whar the air is Btirriu," said the old man when he had placed a basket ou the veranda. "Fetch a checr with yon." MISS MADAM. "No; if yon don't mind my staying all night. I have ridden pretty bard toiay and am somewhat tired." " 'We can't do nothin now that the hoss is dead, and we mont aa well die too.' "That's all right I'm goin with yon after them cows all the same." "Yon are mo' than welcome, rah. Let's see, what is yo' name?" "Then the woman sorter leaned ont of the carriage, and, with a smile that pnt me in mind of a mornin in spring after a rain had fell the night befo', said, 'Jedge, get down and give them yo' hoss I' When they had sat down under a tree, Andrews sal* 'hat he had thought of continuing his journey, but that the idea of taking up a svhool in the com mnnity had just occurred to him. "What do yon think of it?" he asked. "Young fellow," said Andrews, looking steadily at the cripple, "it'B time you were dropping your foolishness. I am not interfering with yoa in the least, and it is none of your business whether I go with this young lady or not. Do yon understand?" "That eased her mightily," the old man whispered, "but it won't be long till she fumbles around and finds somethin else to feel bad about" By OPIE READ. "Andrews." "Any kin to Pete Andrews, over in Hackett county?" "I think not." During the forenoon Miss Madam wad Andrews fished in a small stream not far away, bat they were housed daring the afternooq by a furious downpour of rain. Evening came and still Little Dave had not returned. The old man would step to the door occasionally and gase anxiously down the darkening road. "I am afraid," said he, "that Caney fork has riz so that he can't git back. I hope he won't try, for if be does the horses will be droonded share." Tbey sat up antil late and then, convinced that the boy had put up somewhere for the night, went to bed. It seemed to Andrews that he had just fallen asleep when he was awakened by voices down stairs. [Copyright. 1806, by F. T. Neely.] chapter I, An old man and an' old woman, a pale young fellow and a girl, sat at a table placed upon a long veranda. "Waal, you needn't be ashamed to claim kin with him, for he's much of a man. Seen him tie a feller bigger'n him one day at Boyd's mill. Jest snatched a hold of him, sub, and nach- " 'Madam,' said he, 'it shall be jest as yon say,' and, befo' 1 knowed what was bein done, I was so astonished, the bridle rein was iq my hand, my wife was on her knees, and the carriage was gone. We never oould find ont thar names. All we knowed was Jedge and Madam. So when our boy was borned —the one .that was killed—we called bim Jedge, and when the little girl come we called her Madam, but bein such a little bit of a thing, and Madam soundin most too big for her, we added the Miss. 'Lizabuth, step thar to the do' and tell the children we won't go ont to the field agin this even in." "Waal, If you ain't got no particular place to go to, and if nobody in particular ain't expectin you, 1 don't know but it would be as gcod plan . as uny, but thar's this about it —you won'tgit mncl of a sprinkiin of scholars till the corn is laid by. Miss M{\daiu could go most of the time, and Little Dave could go rainy days, but if it's money you're after, why, I ruther think you can do better fti most any sort of business." "No, I can't Mother and pap arc (join." tree in the yard. "I wish that fool boy wasn't here," he mused. "What a restful plaoe this isl What an elysinm after nights that were heated with the fever of gluttony. Oh, cooling shades of simple life, if I had breathed thy atmosphere—I am a fool!" he broke oil, turning over. "I am catching at the ravellngs of a tattered sentiment. But ought I stay here and attempt to teach school? Why ask myself so silly a ques- The cripple's thin lips parted in an evil drawn smile. "Now I wonder who that can be?" said the old man, craning his neck and looking down the road. The girl and the young fellow got up that they might obtain a better view, and the woman, with (f an air of keen curiosity, leaned over the table, gazed down the road, and, with a woman's quickness to discover intention, declared: "He's gain to stop See, papft' clutching the old .man's arm. "He's goin to come in at the big gatf?." "I mean what I say, young man." The cripple smiled again and taking a knife from his pocket opened a long, koen blade, looked up at Andrews and quietly remarked: "That's what a man 'lowed once when he met a wildcat in the country road, and he talked mighty earnest and be meant what he said, too, I reckon, but when he went away his shirt was badly tore and be found out shortly afterward that be had done left one of his ears hangin on a bash." "I don't care for the money that might be in it." "Waal, if that's the case, yon can jest teach a school in this neighborhood as long as yoa are a mind to. 'Lizabuth," he called, "what's the matter with you this mornin?" - ..«s tel. miserable all hay made a i tion? That cbild'B face flutters in my bosom. Look here, Mr.—Andrews—I never credited you with having much sound sense; but, hang it, sir, yon are disappointing I" "He's not goin to do no sich of a thing," the man replied. "He's—hanged if he ain't Wonder who he can be. Ridin putty good stock, anyhow." "Miss Madam," said Andrews, turning to the girl, "it is not my desire to quarrel with a crippled boy, and rather than give him a chance to whine I will surrender the pleasure of going with "You don't mean to say that yoa tried to git across the creek," the old man exclaimed. used them years, who for troubles heart. Her health was so found It almcst impossible to hotuehold dutle*. "I never believed In - clnts," said Mrs. Bo wend, last fall I read an article li which told of the earea Wllliama'e Pink Pills, and. the medicine. Be ore I had tenta of one box I began tof depreeaing weakness whioL me for so many years begai and the action of the heart stronger and moio regular. "I took nine boxes of the pills and now feeling better than I ha' e for years, and I hare unbounded faith, jicdioine." The house was a double log structure, a story and a half high, a broad, open passage between the two sections, and with the shaky gallery, that served as a summer dining place, running out in apparent aimlessnees from the passage The neighbors said that old Bradshaw, having more clapboards than be knew what to do with, built the roof as a sort of joke and was then compelled to pnt down the floor as a necessity. CHAPTER IL "Pap," sho said, slowly turning her face toward him, "I jest know that 1 ain't elected." MI am mylt a wonderful He sank into a reverie, half in the darkness of sleep and half in the light of consciousness, as the slowly waving boughs above threw shadows or sifted sun glints on his face. The boughs ceased waving and be slept, a dark shade lying on his countenance. "I did git across the creek." » "But whar are them bosses?" The horseman wbo bad thus turned a quiet noon hour into a speculation of deep ctacern rode up to the yard fence and, following a time set fashion of that part of theconntry, cried, "Hello I" you." "I didn't try to drive 'em through. The creek was so high that I left then» at Perdue's." "How did yoa git across?"' North Maine for respected. Any "iheerfnlly acand acqnaiot- "Don't, now, 'Lizabuth; I say don't give up that way. Come over hero and Bet down. Come on," heBoftly pleaded, going to her. He led hty under the tree and placed her on his chair. "Don't, now." Little Dave smiled again and put up his knife. "Pap, I tell you it wa» Liza Perdue." ully tied him. And eat! Let me tell you. One time a passul of us at & log rollin 'gnnter talk about eatin, and John Sanderson, the one that married Sis Perdue"—That night, after supper, Bradshaw aid that he had a job of work that all •ands could help bim perform. "We luve been runnin along in a push until ve are about out of meal,'' said he, 'and we must shell enough corn tonight to take to mill tomorrow and might as well take several bags while we are at it" "Git down and come in," the old man answered. He had arisen from the table and was advancing to meet tne stranger. "Come right in, suh, and make yo'self at home " "Is that how yoa braised yo' face?" "Yes, agin the driftwood and biesh." " Jt is a thousand wonders you badn't droonded. Why the deuea didn't yoa stay at Perdae's rather than swim that creek and trudge all the way back here afoot?" "I swum." won- Dr. Dl*. "Come on and let's eat a snack!" cried old Bradshaw. He had just turned loose the old gray mare—yea, had just dealt her a blow with the bridle, still holding a memory of her ingratitude. "Pap, thar's a certain nnmber to tx saved and a certain number to be lost." "He married Liza Perdue," Mrs. Bradshaw mildly suggested. "The one that married Sis Perdue," the old man repeated. "Thar, now, don't. You'll feel better after awhile. What's dark now will be bright by and by. The Son of Man didn't die in vain. Come, we'll go out in the woods and talk it over." wondertrill tag reported the lead- The girl vanished. The young fellow hung about and stole an ocoasionaf peep at the visitor. It was evident that strangers were rare in that neighborhood. * Andrews did not see the children at supper, but wben be went .to bed in a half roofti at the top of the house he heard them -giggling in some mysterious hiding plaoe, and as he lay rank down into the old feather bed with a feeling of helpless comfort, he heard them gig gle again, and then he beard rain pat tering on the roof, close above his head Rain on an old roof gently rooks tbC cradle for -'nature's soft purse.". Then comes no nervous dream, taken with tlx flashlight of a disturbed mind, flitting ia troublous zigzag, but there is a semiconsciousness, a pleasurable sinking into deeper comfort, and a thankfulness through it all that the rain is falling so cloee overhead. Listlessly the visitor felt, rather than dreamed, that he was again a plow boy on the old farm, dreading the summons to get up and feed the horses, and, reaching out, he put his arm around the restful ease, of morning drowsiness and hugged it closer to him, loath to part with it, shrinking from the thought of blazing corn rows, where the sweaty horse lashed his tail at the flies, where the spider fled along the strands of its rudely broken web, where the rusty toad, with a dismal croak, rolled upon its back in the hew madd furrow. Suddenly be started and looked about the room. Old man Bradshaw had rapped on the stairway and had called: Andrews started up, and, as if he would rub off the dark shade, passed his hand over bis face. "All right," he answered. "I'll be with you in a moment" The corn was bronght to the house and was placed on a sheet spread on the floor. Andrews declared that he ooald beat Miss Madam shelling, and she laughingly accepted the challenge. Little Dave glanoed at Andrews, and, getting down on his knees, began work. After a thue he looked up and said, "Have to take the wagon, I reckon." " 'Cause I wanted to come home." Mta Bowend will now be every poe' l®"* "Pap, I tell you it was Liza Per[ due, for I recolleck mighty well the day they was married. I was standin at the big gate, and here come Sam Harass on the old mar' that he afterward swopped to Sol Faldin and 'lowed, he did, that Jeff Hawkins had split his foot open with fin ax and that John Sanderson had jest married Liza Perdue. I recolleck it jest like it was yiBtidy.""Little Dave, it do look to me like you've lost about all the sense yoa ever had. Waal, as soon as you git breakfast blojcle if she wiahee, health, * thing which mat fore her nae of Pink Pllla. Their clvlllzs- "We have jest been eatin a snack," ■.aid the old man, when be bad shown the stranger into the house. "Won't you eat a mouthful or so? Don't reckon, bojsrpvpj, that fpty will find much to He led her away, and Andrews went back to the veranda. The girl was sweeping, and the cripple sat on the floor, with hip back against the wall. The visitor sat down pfl a rickety chair, and after gating in the direction which tbe old man and his wife bad taken turned to the young tnan, and with an air of rather pleasing familiarity said, "Ah, by the way, Little Dave, I sup pose yoa woald like to go to school, wouldn't you?" Old Mrs. Bradshaw hummed a sacred tune as she assisted her daughter in putting the dishes on the table. Her face was radiant with the indescribable light of a Christian hope and her eyes were aglow with the soft "effulgence of her soul's tranquillity. • drag store In whew they cannot in the better wait a hour or so till the creek rans down—yoa git on old Joe and go right back after that wagon and team." "Will Miss Madam go too?" "Look here, boy; what the devil is the matter with yoa?" I reckon yoa A STORY or yq' taste.'' (From the Btaghamton, N. Y., Becorder.) We have heard ac the county of late conoC Gates, of Maine, Broom* that yeaterday t ton Republican .  cation, and her atory, whioh »U women, ia aa folio* a: "I waa born in Hartford, tonnty, New York, forty-two yean ■»Te been married tv -*■  the mother of elgfc ago I waa "I to my ' "Pap," the woman suddenly interposed, appearing in the door and wringing her apron in embarrassed consciousness of the temerity of thus presenting herself, "if he'll wait a minit, I'll kill a chicken and bake some bisonit, for, goodness knows,' we ain't got nnthin that is fitten for a body to eat" "OHTtton't let me pnt you to any trouble 1" the visitor protested. "I'm sure that anything you've got is good enough far me." "Of course," the old man answered. "Who's goin?" "Why, yo'." Dentinth« - "Yoa appear to be happy," Andrews said as he approached the table. "Pap, oh, pap," the old woman called."All right," said the old man. "Have it yo' own way, for it don't make no difference nohow. What I was goin to say is this: A passul of us 'gnnter talk about eatin, and John Sanderson"—"Yes, for I feel now that I am elected. The clouds have been mighty dark, but the sun shined oat at last I'm afraid that yon won't find the dinner to yo' likin, sub, bnt Miss Madam has done the best she can, I reckon." "I want Miss Madam to go too." "What's the use of her takin all that Db*» ja'nt?" "Waal, what is it, 'Llzabnth?" "Yon mustn't talk thater way." "That's all right; yoa gotasleej* Yon ougbter staid with the hosses, iDi(- tle Dave, and yon mnst go right back a* soon as ever the creek runs down." "I don't know," be answered, spit tifig thrubgh his teeth. "I uhUt think that I'd like to go to school long enough to be a doctor, bnt I reckon I'm gittin along a little too mnoh for that now." "Waal, then, I want Mr. Andrews to go." ?nd all Also a "Gracious alive!" exclaimed Mrs. Bradsbaw, "has the boy gone daft? Why, I reckon he'l} want the whole fam'ly to go next" "The one that married Liza Perdue," Mrs. Bradshaw observed, slightly inclining her head toward the visitor. "If I knowed that I was elected," said the old man, softly chuckling, "it wouldn't make no difference whuther a body liked my dinner or not." ■ "I wouldn't like to be a doctor," the girl spoke up, "for I have heard it said that they cut up dead folks." "Will Andrews go if Visa Madam don't?" He was so easy in manner and so cordial of voice that the woman, yielding, thongh reluctantly, it oould be seen, said: "Waal, if you think you can put nn with it. vbu a;e oerfectlv welcome. Pap, fetch a cheer far the gentleman." "Waal, ding it all, the one that married Liza Ann Perdue"— "Little Dave," said the old man, "what is the matter with yo* lately?" "I ain't blind is the trouble, I reck- "What in the name of—go to bed. I don't want to hear another ward oat of you." "I wouldn't tnind that," said Little Dave. "After Mil Parsley's bead bad been split open by a boss kickin him I stood by and seen a doctor sew it up, and never flinched, nnther. Why did yon want to know wbnther I'd like to go to school or not?'1 "Because I was thinking of taking np a school in this neighborhood^'' worse, until hurt D. Uke to my bed. 1 alolan, bat hia treatment  do me mnoh good and only relieved  a little time, after wbleh my oondltlou "Her name wan't Liza Ann, pap It wan't nothin but Liza. You are thinkin bout Lizzie Ann, the one next to the youngest " "Now, pap, yon onghon to talk that way, and you know it It do seem to me sometimes that yon would make fun of anything on the face of the yeth. But I reckon you can't help it I reckon it was jest nachully borned in you. Mr. Andrews, you mnsthelp yo'self and not wait for pap, for he never was a hand to help a body." on." Little Dave did not sit down to breakfast with the family the next morning, and Andrews did not see him until the forenoon was well spent, when the boy, silent and with sodden pallor of countenance, mounted an old horse and started off down the road. The old man, humming a tune improvised by the bubbling kindness of hiB heart, went to bis work of chopping sassafras sprouts from the corners of the fence, bat his wife, still troubled over the possible condemnation of her soul, and fearful that her guest had not spoke* from the heart when be complimented her ability to fry a chicken, sighed distressingly as she worked in the kitchen. "You uster go to mill and not say a word about not wan tin to go by yo'self. You sholy ain't afraid of anything, are rou?" TJ. 1. They seated themselves at the table, bat the girl and the young fellow did not reappear. The girl, peeping from behind the ash hopper and speaking to the young fellow, who had taken refuge behind a corner of the smokehouse, said: "He looks mighty fine, Little Dave." "A fiddle ain't no whar to him," the boy answered. The old man was silent for a few moments, and then, stroking his beard, said: "I wish I may die if I ever seen the like. Confound the Perdue family anyhow 1 The old man borrowed a bull iongue plow from me once, and I wish I may never stir agin if he didn't swop if for a shuck collar and a pair of hames. But," be added, nodding at the visitor, ''what I wanted to git at is this: A passu 1 at pa was at a log rollin, and the question of who could eat the most pome up, and John Sanderson 'lowed in a sort of offhand way that he did reckon he could eat mo' roasted goose eggs when he was right at himself than any man he ever seen. Now this was a leetle grain mo' than Pete Andrews could stand, bein a high strung sort of feller, and be spit his tobacker out of bis mouth, be did, and says, 'Are you right at yo'self today?' And then John Sanderson sort of felt of himself and studied awhile and 'lowed that he reckoned he was. 'Well, tben/Vaaid Pete, 'abont bow many do you think you can chamber V John studied awhile and 'lowed ttait he didn't know exactly how many he could chamber, but that he would eat agin Pete and have an understands that the one that eat the least had to pay for alL Waal, they pitched in, and Sanderson swallowed 11, but Andrews he raised a great shout irf victory by swallowin 18. I tell you be wan't no common man even in them days, when great men was a heap mo' plentiful than they are now. So yon fran't no kin to him?" when his hoss is gone? Don't be foolish, 'Lizabuth." ""Wood morula.' She started, looked np and found Little Dave standing near her. He carried a handkerchief rolled into a small bundle."Yes." "What are you afraid of?" Little Dave went out to the field as If nothing had happened, and while the old man stood in the yard, looking across the cleared land, he saw the boy viciously strike the fence with his hoe. Miss Madam did not come down to dinner ; she did not come down to supper. "Come on now, mister, and eat a snack." "No; don't believe I want to go. Miss Madam," he added, "do you want to go to meetin today?" "Well," replied the old fellow, "this is the first I ever heard of that I'll help bis plate as fast as be can empty it, and that is about all anybody ran da " "A thing that calls himself a man." "Pap, I do believe be has gone daft, and I wouldn't like to trust the horses with him," said the old woman. ''Go away, Little Dave; I don't want to see you." "I won't go till I give yCw this present that somebody said give you." It was Sunday morning, and as Andrews stood on the veranda he thought that he had never before seen a day sp bright Nature had smiled in her sleep and bad awakened with' a laugh. The old time roses in the yard held up theiy pouting lips to be pleased, as half spoil* ed children do, and a resplendent holly* bock that grew near the kitchen, and about whose roots the coffee grounds were poured every morning, devoid of .warmth, seemed happy in the contemplation of its own gaudy dress. "No; Ioan't Mother and pap are goin, and I'll have to fitay and git din ner. Are you goin, mister?" "Little Dave," tbe old man called, t»wby don't you and Miss Madam come plpng berp now and finish eatin yo' dinner?*'"Nonsense, 'Lizabnth, he's Jest got one of his tantrums, and ding me if he -han't go if it takes all the bide off. I have been too kind to you, suh, to stand any of yo' foolishness, and I want you to get up when I call you and hitch np them horses. Do you hear?" CHAPTER III. "She is not well," Mrs. Bradshaw explained. The old man silently nodded his head. No," Andrews answered, "for the truth is I iode so hard yesterday that I don't care to do any riding today. Are you going, Little Dave?" frhe cripple glanced quickly at An-_ drews and simply said, "No." The days passed, bat Andrews said nothing more about takipg the school, exoept on one occasion, when he remarked that it would be better to wait until the corn should be "laid by." Old Bradshaw and his wife appeared to be much pleased with him. At evening and sometimes at noon he would read Spurgeon's sAmons to tbem from a tattered book that bad mysteriously found its way into the neighborhood, and the old man, with his chair tilted back against the wall, never failed to go to sleep, and his wife never failed to chide him. The visitor essayed to show his usefulness in more than one way, and once he made a pretense of helping Miss Madam and Littlo Dave hoe a piece of preek bottom corn where the land hod been "broken up" wet and which was (oo oloddy to be plowed, but the heat of the son soon drove him in the shade. The girl laughed gleefully at his lack of endurance and said thut he ought to wear a sunbonnet ancfr tie it under his chin as sho did. The boy did not laugh, nor did he express the contempt he felt, fearing that he might arouse Androws' pride and thereby nerve him to the determination of overcoming his aversion for the toilsome employment. Andrews went into the doep woods and sat on a log in a small, now made clearing where A lank and stoop shouldered man was riving clapboards. He placed the rolled handkerchief in her lap. "What is it?" "Don't want no mo'." t „ The visitor looked up, and the girl and yopng fellow dodged out of sight. Id some parts of tbe country this would bave been regarded as ah odd family, but in a certain wild region of Kentucky old pi an Bradsbaw's "folks" were quite conventional. Tbe head of the household was somewhat of a neighborboood character. Be was tall and gaunt, with a large, pioneer sort of nose, and with an uneven, grayish beard. He had a backwoodsman's ideas of the ludicrous, that brood estimate of fun wbicb, when refined, but not too much toned down, approaches the establishment of a distinctive class ot American humor, and emphasizing his conception of tbe ridiculous, as though an atonement must be offered, there was a pathetic note somewhere in the gamut of his voice. When a young man, he had built a house on a hillside, near a spring that gushed from under a ragged bluff, green the year round—eternity's moss covering the rock of ages. Here he and his wife had spent many a year of foil, and it was here, in an old orchard, that they expected to be buried. fbe woman, 1oo, was, in her way, a fvpe. She had two great fears—one that she might not possibly bave reoelved enough of the Spirit when, years ago, she had sprung up from the mourners' bench and shouted in the almost trended ecstasy of her soul's deliverance from torment She was supremely, she thought divinely, happy far months afterward, but gradually she began to fear tha(i h«r conversion had been too vioand that satan most either have I a hand in tbe work or bad at least thrown in ft suggestion or two. Sometimes ber faith would be perfect, and pot a cloud could she see in her serene ■ky of hope. Then she would go about the yard, singing. Everything seemed to inspire her, and new songs came to her as she stood, with ber arms resting on the fence, gazing down the lonely road. The breeze that stirred her hair was a whisper of love, and the sunlight that fell in the lane was a smile of encouragement. Suddenly, and without a warning gradation from this mount of ■ assured paraon-e, sne wouia sinit into the valley of doubt. The breeze that stirred her hair was harsh with reproach, and the snnlight that fell in the lane was a threatening flame. Then she would hasten to the field where her husband was at work. Early the next morning two men rode op to the gate. The appearance of the men pronounoed them strangers in that neighborhood. News might be expected."Mother," said Miss Madam, "I do hope you ain't goin to have another spell Here of late you don't mo' than git out of one till you are into another." She took up tbe bundle and nnrolled It "Mercy, what is this?" she cried, springing to her feet ' "His heart!" tbe cripple shrieked, and fled. "Look and see." "Yes, suh, I hear." "Waal, are you goin to mind?" "You've been too kind to me for me not to mind." Mrs. Bradshaw appeared to be in better spirits when she and the old man returned from the woods, but occasionally, as she busied herself with preparations for the ride to church, there was a nervous outcropping of the distressing anxiety through which she had passed. While Bradshaw was attempting to tighten the saddle girth the old gray mare squealed maliciously, and, reaching around, bit a handful of hair from the top of his head, and in a frenzy he seized a fence rail, knocked her down, and then, clapping a hand on bis head, swore furiously. "We are looking for a young fellow that we understand has been stopping here," said one of the men. "We are officers of the law from Louisville. The man Hitchpeth, who has been stopping with yon, is"— "Jest set right down and fall to," said old man Bradshaw, and then, with a sly wink, be added, " 'Lizabuth must bave not up befo' day and declared war 3D toe chickens, tor about IS o ciock * Heard the old Shanphai squawl like thar wan't no mo' hope left on the face of the yeth." . "All right, then; that settles it" "Don't talk to me about spells, child. You don't know what a spell is. It do seem to me like I git leas and lees happiness out of this life as the years roll on, and what will beoome of me after awhile the Lord only knows." The cripple did not speak again that night, but in apparent unconcern of what passed about him knelt on the sheet and shelled com until the work was done, and then getting up be gave Andrews a quick glance and ascended rbe stairway that led to bis Bleeping place. The afternoon had come. Little Dave was gone. In the bouse tbe old woman, weighted down with tbe news of an awful tragedy and crushed by tbe fear that her own soul was doomed to an endless torment, cried aloud in the hopeless voice of pitiable lamentation, i The old man walked slowly in tbe orchard, with his hands held behind him. Be saw Miss Madam on her knees under an apple tree, and going nearer be ■aw her patting tbe earth abont a little mound—he saw a bloody hauditen-hhf "No man by that name has been here," Bradshaw interrupted. "I think we've all got something to be happy for, mother. I never was as happy in my life as I am now, and it seems that I get happier and happier everyday." "That is his name, but you know him as Andrews. He is the defaulting oashier of a bank, and we want bim." "Now, pap," his wife protested in meek annoyance, seating herself at the foot of the table near the steaming coffeepot and smoothing her hair in an embarrassed way, "if you keep on talkin like that, folks will think that I ain'f got right good Bense, bat a body has tq five, I reckon, and if chickens ain'f tq pat I'd like to know what they was put pere for. Jest pass yo' plate, Mr. Apr drews." Andrews heard them loading the corn long before daylight was sprinkled through the roof; he heard the dogs prancing in many a whining caper on the veranda; he hoard the wagon roll uway, and then he dozed with early morning stretchiness and dreamed that he saw thin lips that bespoke many a night of lonely suffering part in a cold and threatening smile. Old Bradshaw rapped on the stairway and cried that breakfast was ready, and Andrews sat up in bed and mused: "Why do I stay hero? Would any other human being— but don't I stay because I am a human being?" He found the girl Joyous when ho went down stairs. She struck at him with a broom, and, darting away, defied him to catch her. The old man, who stood near, laughed at her froliosomeness, but his manner changed a moment later when he saw the pale and despondent face of his wife. "He is gone," the old man said. ' "When did be go?" "Must have gone last night." "Have you any idea which way he went?" Supper was over long before Little Dave returned, and when he did come he walked through the house without stopping, and, paying no attention to a remark addressed to him by Mrs. Bradshaw, went into the yard, looking about and listening as be walked with strange oautiousness. Suddenly he halted, and then, turning, went toward the woods lot and stopped behind a tree. Andrews was fitting on a smooth log, where the cattle came to lick salt, and Miss Madam was standing near him. The moan was shining, and a small pond, which the ducks kept in a state of trouble all day, seemed to smile in thankfulness "Oh, for mussysake, pap, don't I Oh, please don't!" his wife pleaded"What (n the deuce, then, do you expect me to do, hah?" he cried, turning upon her with a sharp cut grin of agony. "Didn't yon see ber bite mighty nigh all the hair offen the top of my head? Do yon reckon I'm goin to stand here and call her honey after that? Whoa, here now! Oh, you better stand still, or I'll maul the daylignts outen you, you good for nothin wretch, and I give you two years of corn extra twice within a week. Blast yo' old hide, I'll maul you till you can't see. Stand round here, now." "No." on the ground not far away. "What *re yon doin here, my p»»DP little angel?" The men rode away, and Miss Madam, who had run down stairs, drooped back to her hiding place. Late that evening, while the old man and Little Dave were feeding tbe horses, one of the officers oame into the barn. "I am buryin a bird," she sobbed, without looking up. » "Wby don't Miss Madam and Little Pave come along bere now and quit their everlastin foolishness?" the old man asked, looking toward the kitchen door. "Enough of anything is enough, and too muob don't taste Bweet at alL " "No; | have no relatives in this »tate." The months passed. One night, v hen the rain was falling on the clapboard roof, the old woman lay helplessly on her bed. ''You live away off yander some whar, I reckon?" "Well, old man, we caught him; found him about 15 miles from here pretty oomfortably fixed in a farmhouse. We don't want to go on any farther tonight and would like to stop with yon nntil morning." " ¥es; a long ways." "Don't look like you been uster doin much work?" Andrews heard a Buppresaed giggle, and then there came on the quick conveyance, -of an excited whisper the words: "Don't do that I Don't shove pie pot there!" "Pap," she asked, "are yon and. Mi«* Madam here?" "Don't reckon you ever done work of this sort," said tho man. for an evening of rest " Yes, 'Lizabuth, here we are." "Raise me up. " He raised her and bold her in his arms. For a few moments she was quiet, and then sh«D cried in a weak. though joyous voire, "O mnssyfnl God—O heavenly Savi. Dtir, now I know that I am elected." "Pap," the woman interposed, "don't talk thater way. Everybody don't have to work themselves to death like us." any "And do you think that you would Bontinue to love me, no matter what might happen?" Andrews asked. "You can't stay," Bradshaw answered. "I don't want to see him agin." "But can't we stay in that old cabin down in the hollow?" "Pap, if you keep on that way, I'll be afraid that you ain 't elected nuther.'' "No, I don't think 1 ever did." "Yon don't think so? if you'd ever have done it, you'd knowit blamed well, and there wouldn't bo any thinkiu about it. You are Btoppin at Brad•haw's, ain't you?" •'Come on here, now," Bradsbaw demanded. "We don't want nq mo' of that foolishness and won't have it, putherl" "I'd ruther not be elected than to have all my hair bit out by the roots," be exclaimed. "Dog my cats if I'm goin to stand it Talk about bcia elected when a fool mare is snappin all the hair offen me. Wisht I may die dead if I ever was hurt as bad in my life I Whoa, now 1 Oh, I'll maul yo' old head into a loblolly if you don't quit yo' prancin I Gome on here now, 'Lizabuth, and let me help you up." "Waal, 'Lizabuth, I sholy didn't mean no harm, for I had an old uncle in No'th Klinu that never done no work, and he was a putty good sort of a fellow, too, I'll tell you." "Oh, nothing could happen toohange me. You must know that You know that I"— " 'Lizabuth, what's the matter?" he asked. "Don't care wbar yon stay so you don't bring him near me." # The weather "was hot, and the officers remained on the outside of the cabin in which their prisoner was confined. The door, which opened outward, was securely propped with a log. I "I'd like to have a drink of water," one of the men remarked. "Here toa There's a spring right down yonder. Suppose yon go to the house and get a cup. *t * Little Dave stepped out upon the porch and cautiously advanced toward the ta ble. Andrews saw an under size younp man—a mere boy—pale, despite thC seeming efiect the sun had made tCD brown his face, with hair almost white, and with one leg apparently mucl smaller and shorter than the other. Hi* eyes were almost as colorless as a potato vine that had grown in a cellar, and his thin, drawn lips spoke, the guest fan cied, in impressive silence of many and many a night of lonely suffering. The girl camo out. A bashful smile put her shyness in italics and laid embarrassed stress upon her red timidity. Her eyes were brown, and her wayward hair inspired a thought of a ripening corn silk that a perfumed breeze had tangled. Shr was beantifuL Even an old man, gazinp upon her, would have been thrilled Andrews was young. He cared nC longer to listen in silence to what thC old man might say, but began to talk. He toid a pleasing story, and Mist- Madam laughed. He was so free, so easy. They had never seen any one like him. "Come to breakfast," she said. "Come on, all hands, It's bedtime," old man Bradshaw shouted from the house. "Yea " "But what's the matter?" he repeated, following her as she turned toward the table on the veranda. A journey soiled man stopped at Bradshaw's to stay overnight. He *»w • aad old man and a girl whose fare was sweet with the resignation that comes after deep suffering. "And this is Bradley county," said the traveler. "The name reminds me of Tbe visitor laughed in so good natured a way that the man laughed, and "Hearn you are goln to take up a Bohool." The next morning, when Bradshaw rapped on the stairway, there came no reply from above. He rapped again, londer than before, and then went up stairs. Andrews was not there, nor had the bed been occupied. The old man, with wonder and surprise pictured upon his face, wept down stairs. Little Dave met him, and, with a peculiar smile, said: then from the outside there came a tittering that caused the old woman to hasten to the door. "Miss Madam, what's tbe matter with you and Little Dave out thar?" she asked. "Can't you behave yo'selfs and not dodge about a-gigglin like a lot of geese?" "You was thinkin so, eh? You don't pear to know nothin for certain. Jest sorter think so all the time. Don't see bow you could lorn a child much. Don't believe I'd sign for more'u a third of a scholar. Waal, I must be goin. Hope you've got senso enoogh to find tho way out of here." "I was thinking of doing so." "You know what the matter J# better than I can tell you. Sit down and help yo'self, Mr. Andrews." Andrews, the girl and Little Dave stood looking after the old man and his wife until a bend fur down the leafy road hid them from view. "Shall I read you ono of Spurgeon's ♦ernions after breakfast?" thegnest askixl, knowing that she was again in rioubt as to the election of her soul. that took plaef in Texa? not long ago. I was berdin cattle at the time, and among other cowboys hired a young feller that was sorter crippled. One day a mad steer knorked him off his horse and pinned him to th»D greruul with his horns. I ran to him and he mumbled somethin, but all 1 understood was Bradley county, Kentucky— Little Dave." "I must ko and anther some snap beans (or dinner," said Miss Madam, taming away. "I don't care to, that old fellow is so cranky. Let's go down to the spring. The prisoner has been sound asleep for an hour; the door is propped all right, and be couldn't possibly get out before we get back." ''Geesedon't giggle. They squawks,'' came from the outside. "No, I am obleeged to yon, for I hardly think it would do me any good. I Ho took up his frow and slouched himself away, and Andrews, stretching himself on a log, mused and dozed in the shade, lulled by tho soft, varying and never familiar harmonios of a thousand buzzings, as farofl and as subdued as an echo and yet as close as a song poured directly into tho ear. A rustling of the dry leaves on the ground startled him, and looking up he saw Miss Madam coming toward him. i c.ckon I was boriied to be lost. The "His hofis ain't in the stable." "la it possible that be is gone?" "Who's gone?" Miss Madam exoitodly asked. "Let 'em alone, 'Lizabuth," said the old man, smiling. "Let 'em enjoy themselves while they can." "And I will go and help you," Andrews gallantly volunteered. preacher said that tliur was a certain number of souls to be saved and a certain number to bo lost, and I don't think thar's any use for me to try." "They are your children, I suppose," the visitor remarked. "No," Little Dave spoke up. "Iam goin with her. We don't want to im- " Andrews. His bed ain't been Blept in, and Little Dave says his heea is gone." They started off toward the spring. Little Dave, carrying a hatchet in bis hand, stepped from behind a tree and approached the cabin. He hastily and yet without a sound climbed up one corner and crawled out on the roof. He made an opening by removing a number of clapboards and then climbed down inside pose on company." " 'Lizabtith," said the old man, "if thar was any such thing as a woman listenin to reason, I could soon convince you that you are doin yo'self a great wrong by givin away to these spells. You take everything the preacher says as law and gospel, when the truth is, he don't know any mo' about it than we do. He gits his knowledge "Waal—that is to say—partly," the old man answered. "Miss Madam is our daughter—the only child we ever had except Jedge, that the guerrillas killed durin the war—but Little Dave ain't no kin to us. We took him to raise befo' Miss Madam was borned, cause he was n little bit of a crippled thing that nobody didn't want, but he always was a mighty peart child, and, bless you, be can do a power of good with a hoe now. He's crowdin 20 putty close, and Miss Madam is goin on 17*" "Oh, it would be no imposition, but a pleasure," Andrews declared, and he went with them to the garden, although be felt that bv one at least his presence was not desired. Little Dave carried a dishpan into which the beans were put and several times when Andrews attempted to deposit a handful the cripple adroitly and with the appearance of acoident moved the pan so that the beans might fall on tho ground. "You little wretch," the visitor mused, "I'd like to shake that ill mannered snllennesa out . Under the apple tree where the girl bad "buried a bird" there is another little moand—atmby's grave. The girl ran np stairs—ran ont to the stable—came drooping back and went to her room up under the clapboard roof. "J?ap, 1 jest know I ain't elected." "How do vou know? You ain't seen all the votes yet, have you/"' "Thisdo beat me," the old man declared.THE KJH). "For mussy sake, don't talk that way when a body is in sich distress. Oh, I have .done the best I can, the Lord knows I" "We've got that piece of corn done," she sai&, "and I ain't got nothin to do now but go after the cows and drivo 'em homo. " For sale cheap, or, will raehamre for hay, otto or toil, a good second hard MM! banket?, "What'sthe matter?" Mrs. Bradshaw asked, coming from the kitchen. CHAPTER IV. "Sit down and rest yoursolf. " "I ain't very tired," she rejoined, seating herself on tho log. "Bnt you must be nearly roasted with that hot sunbonnet." from the Bible, and so do we; we oan't find no other book to git that knowledge from, and nuther can he. If you believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and still think that to' soul is goin to be lost, "Mercy on me, how could he when we all thobght so much of him? Look about, and you mout find him aomewhar, papt." "Andrews has run away." It was early morning. Miss Madam nt on the smooth log where the cattle came to liok salt. The ducks had jnst begun to trouble the water of the pond. The girl sat with' her hands lying listlessly in her 1*1*. ■  "Waal, if you have, you are all right, I reckon. You trust in the Saviour, don't yon?" After breakfast, while the old man and Little Dave were feeding the stock, Andrews continued to sit at the table, looking at the girl as she took away the diohftft  "Oh, yes, with all my soul." i. "W*al, then, nothln can't hurl tqD' "Why do too call her Min Madam!" "What would hebodoia round hero