nd flat in line with the
eye--for this was Carlow County.

All at once the anger ran out of John Harkless; he was a hard man for
anger to tarry with. And in place of it a strong sense of home-coming
began to take possession of him. He was going home. "Back to Plattville,
where I belong," he had said; and he said it again without bitterness,
for it was the truth. "Every man cometh to his own place in the end."

Yes, as one leaves a gay acquaintance of the playhouse lobby for
some hard-handed, tried old friend, so he would wave the outer world
God-speed and come back to the old ways of Carlow. What though the years
were dusty, he had his friends and his memories and his old black brier
pipe. He had a girl's picture that he should carry in his heart till his
last day; and if his life was sadder, it was infinitely richer for it.
His winter fireside should be not so lonely for her sake; and losing
her, he lost not everything, for he had the rare blessing of having
known her. And what man could wish to be healed of such a hurt? Far
better to have had it than to trot a smug pace unscathed.

He had been a dullard; he had lain prostrate in the wretchedness of his
loss. "A girl you could put in your hat--and there you have a strong
man prone." He had been a sluggard, weary of himself, unfit to fight, a
failure in life and a failure in love. That was ended; he was tired of
failing, and it was time to succeed for a while. To accept the worst
that Fate can deal, and to wring courage from it instead of despair,
that is success; and it was the success that he would have. He would
take Fate by the neck. But had it done him unkindness? He looked out
over the beautiful, "monotonous" landscape, and he answered heartily,
"No!" There was ignorance in man, but no unkindness; were man utterly
wise he were utterly kind. The Cross-Roaders had not known better; that
was all.

The unfolding aisles of corn swam pleasantly before John's eyes. The
earth hearkened to man's wants and answered; the clement sun and summer
rains hastened the fruition. Yonder stood the brown haystack, garnered
to feed the industrious horse who had earned his meed; there was the
straw-thatched shelter for the cattle. How the orchard boughs bent with
their burdens! The big red barns stood stored with the harvested wheat;
and, beyond the pasture-lands, tall trees rose against the benign sky to
feed the glance of a dreamer; the fertile soil lay lavender and glossy
in the