praved part, she would have told you) cherished the memory of his
smallest act and word. In fact, the flowers had no association with
Jonas except that along with the awakening of her love came this little
sentiment for flowers into the dry desert of her life. But one day Mrs.
Anderson discovered the old blue broken tea-pot with its young plants.

"Why, Cynthy Ann!" she cried, "a body'd think you'd have more sense than
to do such a soft thing as to be raisin' posies at _your_ time of life!
And that when the world is drawing to a close, too! You'll be one of the
foolish virgins with no oil to your lamp, as sure as you see that day."

As for Julia's flowers, Mrs. Anderson had rudely thrown them into the
road by way of removing temptation from her and turning her thoughts
toward the awful realities of the close of time.

But Cynthy Ann blushed and repented, and kept her broken tea-pot, with a
fearful sense of sin in doing so. She never watered the pretty-by-nights
without the feeling that she was offering sacrifice to an idol.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A NICE LITTLE GAME.

It was natural enough that the "mud-clerk" on the old steamboat Iatan
should take a fancy to the "striker," as the engineer's apprentice was
called. Especially since the striker know so much more than the
mud-clerk, and was able to advise him about many things. A striker with
so much general information was rather a novelty, and all the officers
fancied him, except Sam Munson, the second engineer, who had a natural
jealousy of a striker that knew more than he did.

The striker had learned rapidly, and was trusted to stand a regular
watch. The first engineer and the third were together, and the second
engineer and the striker took the other watch. The boat in this way got
the services of a competent engineer while paying him only a
striker's wage.

About the time the heavily-laden Iatan turned out of the Mississippi
into the Ohio at Cairo at six in the evening, the striker went off
watch, and he ought to have gone to bed to prepare himself for the
second watch of the night, especially as he would only have the
dog-watch between that and the forenoon. But a passenger had got aboard
at Cairo, whose face was familiar. The sight of it had aroused a throng
of old associations, pleasant and unpleasant, and a throng of emotions
the most tender and the most wrathful the striker had ever felt. Sleep
he could not, and so, knowing that the mud-clerk was on watch,