of the dear girl, and
the matronly lady who had her in charge could not forbear giving her a
kiss, and said,--

"I hope you will meet with nothing more unpleasant than prairie
flowers."

But just then the child's bright eyes caught sight of a settler
pursuing his lonely way with his gun on his shoulder, his tall figure
standing in bold relief against the sky, although he was several miles
in the distance, and she asked,--

"Mamma, is that a wild man?" And, later, seeing a cow grazing, she
inquired, "Is that a wild cow?"

The next night, about sundown, Mr. Sawyer deposited the missionary's
family at Mr. Lincoln's snug western cottage.

"Well," said Mrs. Lincoln, laughing, as she took her guest's things,
"you've stolen a march on your husband this time."

"Isn't he here?" asked Mrs. Payson, with a disappointed air.

"No," she replied. "He spent a week at the Mississippi, waiting for
you. And, fearing you might get carried by, or injured in leaving the
steamer,--for you know little ceremony is used towards passengers or
their goods,--he visited each boat as it arrived, and had the porter
at the hotel call him up at every boat through the night, inquiring of
the passengers if they had seen a lady of your description with three
young children; and hearing, since he returned, that one resembling
you had gone to the Landing higher up on the river, he went there
yesterday, hoping to meet you, and bring you back with him. He'll
probably get here late this evening; and won't we give him a
surprise?"

It was about nine o'clock when the missionary returned, alone,
anxious, and dejected.

"You don't look as if you found your lost wife and babies," said his
host, sympathizingly.

"No, and I don't know what to make of it. I inquired thoroughly. I
looked the papers over also, but did not find that there had been any
railroad accident of late. I am afraid she has been taken sick on the
way. It was barbarous in me to listen a moment to the idea of her
coming all the way alone, with three children, from Massachusetts to
Minnesota. I ought to have insisted on her remaining at home until I
could have gone for her."

"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Lincoln, "she thought it wasn't prudent to
venture on such a journey, and wrote you so, but the letter has
miscarried."

"I know her too well to think so," responded the minister. "She has
started on her way here. She had decided to do so as a matter of duty;
and, having made her mind u