n.

"I wish I could have shared just a little of my good fortune with him,"
I said to Zulime, who really was as stately as a queen. But the best of
all my possessions I would not, could not, share with any one--I mean
the adoration of my little daughters to whom I possessed the majesty of
an emperor.

"Here his trail ends. Here by the landing I wait the
same oar--the slow, silent one.
We each go alone--no man with another,
Each into the gloom of the swift, black flood.
Burt, it is hard, but here we must sever.
The gray boatman waits, and you--you go first.
All is dark over there where the dim boat is rocking,
But that is no matter--no trailer need fear,
For clearly we're told, the powers which lead us,
Will govern the game till the end of the day.
Good-by!--Here the trail ends!"

* * * * *

Christmas came this year with special significance. Two pairs of eager
eyes now peered at all bundles which came into the house. The faith and
love and eager hope of my daughters made amends for the world's lack of
interest in my writings. They and their mother were my wealth, their
love compensated me for the slender dribble of my royalties.

"Our Christmas shall be as happy as that of any millionaire," was the
thought which actuated me in the purchase and decoration of our tree.
Wealth was highly desirable, but absurd as it may seem I had no desire
to change places with any merchant or banker. The foolish notion that
something historical in my work made it worth while, supported me in my
toil. It was a hazy kind of comfort, I will concede, but I wrapped
myself in it, and stole away out into the street to buy and sneak a
Christmas tree up the back stairs. It was a noble tree, warranted to
reach the ceiling of our library.

Father came down from Wisconsin and Franklin came up from Oklahoma to
help me decorate it, and when, on Christmas morning, they both rose with
me, and went down to light the candles, they were almost as gleeful as
I. Mary Isabel was awake and piping from the top of the stairs, "Is it
time, papa? Can we come now, papa?" and at last when the tower of glory
was alight I called back, "Yes, now you may all come."

Slowly she descended step by step, clinging to her mother, who was
carrying Constance. Very slowly the procession approached, for the
little voluptuary in front was loath as well as eager--avid to enjoy yet
hesitating to d