stream was singing its own gay song, and for once it
waked no longing in her breast. As Mrs. Nancy turned to walk up the
path, she drew forth Almira's letter, not without a momentary pang of
remorse. With the letter in her hand she paused again, and looked and
listened as though she would drink in the whole of Colorado at one
draught. Suddenly a gleam of roguish wilfulness came into the sweet old
face, and speaking half aloud, she murmured,

"I don't know but I'm getting to be a heartless old woman, but--I'm
afraid I'd full as lief somebody else closed Almira's eyes for her!"

And with this revolutionary sentiment the faithless little New Englander
passed into the house that had at last taken on the dignity and the
preciousness of a home.

II.

BRIAN BORU.

Sir Bryan Parkhurst, a young Irish sportsman just over from the old
country, was rather disappointed in Colorado; and that was a pity,
considering that he had crossed an ocean and half a continent to get
there. The climate, to be sure, was beyond praise, and climate is what
Colorado is for, as any resident of Springtown will tell you. Nature,
too, was very satisfactory. He liked the way the great mass of Rocky
Mountains thrust itself up, a mighty barrier against the west, perfectly
regardless of scenic conventionalities. There was something refreshingly
democratic about the long procession of peaks, seeming to be all of
about the same height. In that third week of September not a single one
of them all wore the ermine, though their claim to that distinction,
measured by their altitude, equalled that of their snow-clad cousins of
another hemisphere. On the other hand, Sir Bryan pleased himself with
fancying that the splashes of golden aspen and crimson sumac on the
mountain sides, contrasting with the brilliant, unalterable blue of the
sky, had a Star-Spangled-Banner effect--a thing which the British
tourist is always delighted to discover.

Truth to tell, it was the people that bothered Sir Bryan. In dress, in
manners,--he sometimes feared in morals, they lacked the strong flavor
which he had confidently looked for. They did not wear flannel shirts in
general society; they did not ask impertinent questions; a whiskey
cocktail did not seem to play a necessary part in the ceremony of
introduction; the almighty dollar itself did not stalk through every
conversation, putting the refinements of life to the blush. In short,
Sir Bryan found himself forced to